Jun 09
By Mizaru
Here we are heading into a new summer and as I walk into a local expat watering hole to attend a birthday party, the talk at the bar revolves around how last week’s perfectly pitched baseball game was marred by a bad call at first base for the last out of the game in the bottom of the ninth. I find that foreigners who come to South Korea to teach English (amongst other endeavors) and hang out tend to believe in the “we have the technology so we have to use it” aphorism. I didn’t bother with the instead of that: to see if someone saw a greater truth that maybe we and technology have turned the corner on and can’t see anymore. That perhaps there’s a more powerful perfection in the umpire blowing the call, but then admitting it with an earnest apology, and then the pitcher matching that with an effortless forgiveness.
Jun 08
By Mizaru
Excuse me if I am in a state of high dudgeon. I just spent summer
turning to fall in Dublin but I live in Seoul, South Korea in the sweet sounding neighborhood, Haebangchong. It’s a neighborhood at least half populated by non-Koreans, commonly known to all as foreigners, and it often wears the nickname, “The Ghetto.” Its crowded main street begins at the Yongsan U.S. Army base’s uniformed gate then left past the store over-packed with small and huge kimchi pots and then drags upwards.
Jun 07
By Jennifer Stevens

The moment I arrived in Seoul, my self-esteem took a nosedive. Thousands of porcelain-skinned, shiny-haired waifs in 4-inch heels everywhere I looked…I felt like some freakish blonde extra in a glossy fashion movie.
Well, it’s been nine months, and apart from some staring on the subway, I feel far from famous. So I Skyped my friend Eric back home who said: “Well then what do you want from me? Move back here so your size six ass will be considered skinny again! And in the meantime, get yourself dolled up, go out to a gay bar, and get some much-needed attention from a bunch of half-naked men.”
Jun 07
By Finbarr Bermingham

I’m going to level with you from the outset: twelve months ago, I’d never even heard of Gwangju. My geographical knowledge of the Korean peninsula was sketchy at best and I was as guilty as every other naval-gazing Westerner in assuming South Korea began and ended in Seoul. So I’ll forgive those of you who have yet to be awakened to the undoubted charms of this parochial southern city. A year down the line, my eyes are open.
Jun 02
By Mizaru and Stuart Wainstock

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