expatriate games

Blogspam, the breakfast of champions

2005-11-29T16:59:00.000-08:00

Ahh... After a long work-related absence, I have returned to wax lyrical (and parenthetical) for a few brief moments stolen between teaching and "life" (all that other stuff that you think is getting in the way of having one turns out in fact to be one; the fun stuff is just nice extras). It has been several months since I even looked at my blog, so I thought I'd take a spin, check out the comments, see if anyone had managed to find me and how, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah...

I have been blogspammed! A good 80% of my so-called comments are actually links to websites (pseudo-blogs) touting everything from low-interest loans (mon oeil!) to lasik (mes yeux!) to a sure-fire way to make tons of money from home (yes, I'm well aware that spamming pays better than teaching; more's the pity). Although for the moderately intelligent reader it doubtless goes without saying, I will condescend to say that I find this a crass advertising technique and a shame. Don't choose your liposuction clinic via a link to a blog which will never have anything pertinent to say on the subject (impertinent ideas abound, but I shall save them for another day when I have more free time). Now let's just sit back and see how long it takes the liposuction spammers to get a hit on this site and tack on a pseudo-comment. I'm betting under a week.

Can Disneyland Pyeongyang be far behind?

2005-02-05T13:59:00.000-08:00

North Korea tells men: Be patriotic and cut hair
State TV IDs ‘unhygienic’ men; edict sets 2-inch coif limit
The Associated Press

Feb. 1, 2005

SEOUL, South Korea - North Korea is fighting a new war — against long hair.The dictatorship has been telling its men to trim their hair “socialist style” since last September — saying men with long hair are incompetent and unhygienic.

Socialist style? Sound more like Republican style to me!

- C'mon baby, let's do it socialist style!
- Ooh, I just love it when a man talks dirty!

The North’s state-run news media identifies violators of the edict by showing them on T.V., identifying them by name and address and then critiquing their hair. It showed one man with hair over his ears on Monday — and asked if he can be expected to “perform his duty well.”

Talk about your fascinating subjects for a reality show. Although it sounds kind of like an un-fashionista version of "Queer eye"...

- Now that you've had your ears lowered, c'mon and perform your duty, stud muffin!

The government mandates that hair be no longer than two inches. But it does offer an exception to old men, who are allowed to grow 2.8 inches to hide balding.

[For those of you not in the know: "At Disneyland, there is a strict grooming code, one which does not permit long hair, facial hair or dangling jewelry."]

I am psyched!

2005-02-04T04:37:00.000-08:00

http://www.bestiary.ca/biblios/biblioauthor.htm

This may mean nothing to you mere mortals, but it means everything to me. Someone actually included my dissertation in an (admittedly exhaustive) bibliography on medieval bestiaries. This is the first time I've done a web search and come up with a hit on myself along with the 99 on my sister-in-law, the world-renowned physicist. So scroll on down and behold the mystery that is me (providing, of course, you have enough clues to figure out which one I am in this cast of thousands).

[http://www.tmbw.net/wiki/index.php/All_Alone/Lyrics]

I rock!

In the Zone

2005-02-02T13:40:00.000-08:00

Never fear, today's topic is not anything sports-related (as if!); rather, we are going to take a look at:

TIME ZONES (learn 'em, people!)

Once upon a time, life was simple. You lived in the same time zone with everyone you would ever think of phoning, or - worst-case scenario - you had a rougue cousin or second-best-friend who had moved to some godforsaken planet like Alabama, one time zone to the west. No big thing; what's an hour, give or take?

And then one day, you hopped on a plane and flew halfway around the world, racking up some serious time difference. You started having to calculate: noon minus 6 hours is ... uh, 6 a.m. Is that too early to call my folks/my boyfriend/my bank? Your parents, never having mastered basic math, decided never to call you again (hey! a fringe benefit!) but to have you call them instead (oh great, so now I have to ruin my Sunday afternoons by hanging around the house 'til 2 p.m...). The occasional inebriated friend from back home would call at midnight his time (6 a.m. for your pasty white Francophile asterisk) to tell you how he was loving life and especially the white-hot chick passed out next to him (me, I just love sleep; I suppose it's my masochistic side, since the Fates long ago decided I would never get enough of it).

Flash forward a few years and a few time zones. Now you are in a wonderful land that knows no daylight savings time (no springing forward, no falling back, just sunset at 5 p.m. in winter and sunrise at 5 a.m. in summer), in the world's number one time zone. You are 13 hours ahead of the folks back home (14 in winter); 7 hours ahead of your in-laws (8 in winter). Phoning home would have become problematic, were you not ALWAYS awake at 6:30 a.m. (Children, be it said in passing, have their own private time zones to which we adults are not privy. What on earth could possibly be the advantage of waking before sunrise, especially on weekends? Is this really a good idea for the continued propagation of the species?)

To make things even more confusing for your befuddled in-laws, your sister-in-law is in the US at this time, so while you are x +7 (or 8), she is x - 6. You probably see where this is headed, but let me tell you, even when you see the 2" x 4" coming at you, it still hurts when it hits you. Yep, mom-in-law misdials and calls at 4 a.m. I don't care what kind of lifestyle you have, when the phone rings at 4 a.m., it's never a good thing from any perspective. Luckily for the offending party, a well-placed invective never killed anyone, and more lethal forms of address require physical proximity.

Strike 1...

A couple of weeks later, it happens again. This time, the culprit is your beloved younger brother, whose speed dial should be disabled until he learns how to perform basic addition problems. (What do they teach them in MBA programs, and is that what happened at Arthur Andersen?) He rings in at 1 a.m. to ask for help with his CV (Hey, dude. Rule number 1: Never call anyone at this hour. Even family. Don't make me passive-aggressively turn your cover letter into a tangle of homosexual innuendo and bad grammar...).

A word to the wise: unplug your phone at night, and turn off the cell. And for all those well-meaning friends and family members with no grasp of time, try grandma's little trick: Buy a clock (digital, preferably with militray time or at the very least a big P for p.m.) and set it to the time where your loved one lives. Place a little placard or sticker with the loved one's name on/above the clock. Repeat as necessary. Et voila! Grandma has never called at an inappropriate time. She is in the Zone...

Just an afterthought:You're travelling to another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound... but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land, whose boundaries are only that of the imagination... you're entering... the Twilight Zone... Do you have any idea what freaking time it is??

And whilw we're at it, homage to today's film-o'the-day, Groundhog Day, which is oddly appropriate to this post.

Paint it Black

2005-01-31T22:00:00.000-08:00

Imagine yourself walking down (or rather, up, as there's a slight incline in my direction) a windy street in Seoul on this fine winter's morn. it is a balmy -8 degrees C (18 degrees F) but feels like minus 12 with the wind chill (10 freakin' degrees!!). So there you are, trudging along against the wind with an ice cream headache without the ice cream, one hand (guess which?) clasped against your forehead. Wait a minute...what's that you are holding in your frostbitten hand? An ice pack?? Why yes, because you are...

Back in Black

Before I got married, I never had a black eye. A couple of fat lips from misguided attempts to engage in team sports, probably more than my share of sprains, but no shiners. And now, in the space of a little over 6 weeks, 2 black eyes (or rather, the same one twice).

Lest you start to wonder - as I'm sure everyone in my entourage is doing - whether my husband beats me, the answer is no. ("Sure," you are thinking, "That's what all battered women say. The monster!") No, really, he's not the one. It's my kids.

The first time, it wasn't really a child who had it in for me; it was a door. I'd gotten up at 5:45 in the AM to give the little one a bottle, and while I was picking her up from her crib, the door hit some toy stashed behind it and swung half-closed. It was dark in the room, I was half-asleep, I didn't see the door until it was in my eye. Actually, I still didn't see it; I saw stars. Expletive! Expletive! That was truly painful and gave me a black (actually, a rather fetching shade approaching eggplant, until it turned a sickly yellow) eye that lasted a little over 3 weeks. It made for some lovely Christmas pictures: Ah! The memories! (Okay, you can stop singing "Luka" now. Really. Cut it out!)

This time, the older one was at fault. It was time to go to school, he didn't want to go, he stood up quickly and violently and head-butted me. You'd think the glasses would protect me, but I'm pretty sure that in both cases they just exacerbated the situation. (Of course, having said this, if I hadn't been wearing them, I probably would have blackened both my eyes on my own by walking into walls or doorframes.)

I'm pretty sure that this time I won't have the all-out ringer, but more likely just a bruise above the eye. The timing is, as ever, impeccable: we are leaving for a beach holiday next Sunday, and in all the photos I'm sure to be sporting an unusual hue of eyeshadow on the left eye. Call it alternative glamour, or combat chic. I am the next Eve; my alternative Venus de Milo beauty will rock your world!

Now for today's linguistic oddity. I always thought the French referred to a black eye as an " oeil au bord noir" (literally, a black-rimmed eye). Sounds logical enough, no? Mais non, the correct expression is "oeil au beurre noir" (literally, an eye with black butter). I don't know about you, but that sounds like some kind of severely gross appetizer to me.

And with that, I leave you to seek Stones mp3s on the Net. "I see a red door and I want to paint it black... or walk into it when it shuts behind my back..."

Too much time on my hands

2005-01-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

and it's tickin' away with my sanity...

More fun with words:

We start with a short poem from Robert Frost (my favorite American poet)...

Original poem (Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice”):

Some say the world will end with fire,
some say with ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
to say that for destruction, ice
is also good and would suffice.

We then switch the spell-checker to French and find the closest match with French vocabulary. Then, we back-translate that French text into English, which gives us:

Back-trans. 1:

Somme say the world vile end vita fire,
some say vita vice.
From watt I’ve tested of desire
I hold vita chose ho favor fire.
But if fit ad to perish twist,
I thong I know annoying of hate
to say chat for destruction, vice
dish alto cod hand world suffice.

We repeat the last 2 steps:
Back-trans. 2 (not much changed from 1):

Somme say the world vile end vita fire,
some say vita vice.
From watt I’ve tested of desire
I hold vita chose ho favor fire.
But if fit ad to perish twist,
I thong I know announce of hate
to say chat for destruction, vice
disc alto code hand world suffice.

More fun for the Francophones among you:
Phonetic transcription of original poem into French:

Somme sait de vol d’huile hein d’ho-hisse faille heure,
somme sait ho-hisse haïsse.
Forum ouate à Yves testé d’oves d’Isère
aille hall d’huis zoos où fait for faille heure.
Peu Eudes-Yves y d’hâte tout péri – chut – tout haïsse,
aille zinc aille nos y neuf oves ait, euh…
tout sait date fort destruction, haïsse
ils haut sot gourde hein de Wood surf haïsse.

Back-translation of phonetic transcription:

Sum knows of the theft of oil – huh? – of heave-ho weakness hour,
sum knows heave-ho that he should hate.
forum Yves’ cotton tested of alpine (Isère) ova
might he go hall of the door zoos where he makes for weakness hour.
Not very hurriedly, Udo-Yves utterly perished there – shh – all that he should hate,
might he go, zinc, might he go there that he might have our nine ova, uh,
everything knows, is dated strong destruction, that he might hate
they high, stupid butterfingers – huh? – Wood’s surf that he might hate.

Modified (semi-grammaticized) back-translation of phonetic transcription:

The sum knows of oil theft – huh? – of the weakness hour’s heave-ho,
The sum knows – heave-ho – that it should hate.
The forum, Yves’ cotton tested on alpine eggs,
might he visit the hall of the door zoos where he prepares for his hour of weakness.
Slowly, Udo-Yves utterly decomposed there – shh – with all that he should hate,
might he go, zinc, might he go there to take our nine eggs, uh.
All is known, utter destruction is dated, that he might hate
those high, stupid butterfingers – huh? – that he might hate Wood’s surf.

Phonetic English transcription of modified back-translation:

The some nose of oil theft – huh? – of the weakness ours: “Heave, ho!”
The some nose – “Heave, ho!” – that it should hate.
The four, um, eve’s cotton tested on Al pine eggs,
my tee visit the haul of the door zoos wear he pre-pairs four his our of weakness.
Slow, Lee - ooh, dough! - eves udder Lee decomposed their – shh – with awl that he should hate,
my tee go, zinc, my tee go their too take hour nine eggs, uh?
Awl is known, udder de-struck shun is day dead, that he mite hate
those “hi!”, stupid butterfingers – huh? – that he mite hate would’s serf.

Orthographic equivalent translation of modified back-translation

Thee some nows of oil theft – huh? – of the weakness ours heave-ho,
The sum nows – heave-ho – that it should height.
The forum, eve’s caught untested one owl pine eggs,
mighty visit the haul of the dour zoos ware he prepares fore his our of weakness.
Sloe Leigh - ooh, dough!- eve’s utterly decomposed their– shh – with awl that he should height,
mighty go, zinc, mighty go they’re tough take hour nine eggs, uh.
Awl is none, udder destruction is day dead, that he mite heat
thoughs “hi!”, stupid butterfingers – huh? – that he mite height would’s serf.

Semi-complete orthographic equivalent translation of modified back-translation

The(thee) sum(some) knows(nose, nowes, nows, nos, noughs, noes, nothes) of(ove) oil theft – huh? – of(ove) the(thee) weakness(weekness, weeknesse, wiqueness, wiquenesse) hour’s (ours, owers, oughers) heave-ho (hieve-hoe, hieve-hough, hieve-how, heive-hoe, heive-hough, heive-how, heve-hoe, heve-hough, heve-how)
The(thee) sum(some) knows(nose, nowes, nows, nos, noughs, noes, nothes) – heave-ho(hieve-hoe, hieve-hough, hieve-how, heive-hoe, heive-hough, heive-how) – that it should(shood) hate(hait, height, haight, heat).
The(thee) forum (four ‘em, fore ‘em, foor ‘em, fawer ‘em, four um, fore um, foor um, fawer um, four ‘ome, fore ‘ome, foor ‘ome, fawer ‘ome, four ‘om, fore ‘om, foor ‘om, fawer ‘om,) Yves’(eves, ieves, eives, eaves) cotton (cotton, caughten) tested on (awn, one) alpine (owl pine, Al pine, owl pign, Al pign) eggs(egs) ,
might he (mighty, my tee, meigh tee, migh tee, my ty, meigh ty, migh ty, mite hee, myte hee, meight hee, mite hie, myte hie, meight hie, mite hei, myte hei, meight hei, mite heigh, myte heigh, meight heigh, mite hey, myte hey, meight hey, mite hy, myte hy, meight hy) visit the(thee) hall(hawl, haul, holl) of(ove) the(thee) door(dore, dour) zoos (zose, zuise, zooze, zews, zues, zoughs) where(wear, wair, ware, weir) he(hee, hie, hei, hy, hea) prepares(prepairs, prepears, prepeirs, preperes) for(foor, four, fower, fawer, fore) his(hizz, hiz, hise) hour (our, ower, ougher) of(ove) weakness(weekness, weeknesse, wiqueness, wiquenesse).
Slowly(slowelee, sloughlee, sloelee, slolee, slowely, sloughly, sloely, sloweleigh, sloughleigh, sloeleigh, sloleigh, slowelea, sloughlea, sloelea, slolea) , Udo(ooh dough, ooh do, ooh doe, ooh dow, oo dough, oo do, oo doe, oo dow, ue dough, ue do, ue doe, ue dow, ou dough, ou do, ou doe, ou dow, ew dough, ew do, ew doe, ew dow, oup do, oup doe, oup dow)-Yves(eves, ieves, eives, eaves) utterly(udderlee, udderly, udderleigh, udderlea, utterlee, utterleigh, utterelea) decomposed(dee-, dea-, de-, cum-, come-, kum-, kome-, com-, kom-, poez/s-, poz/s-, powz/s-, poughz/s-, powez/s- ) there(their, thare, they’re, thair) – shh – with all(awl, aul, oll) that he(hee, hie, hei, hey, hy) should(shood) hate(hait, height, haight, heat),
might he (mighty, my tee, meigh tee, migh tee, my ty, meigh ty, migh ty, mite hee, myte hee, meight hee, mite hie, myte hie, meight hie, mite hei, myte hei, meight hei, mite heigh, myte heigh, meight heigh, mite hey, myte hey, meight hey, mite hy, myte hy, meight hy) go(goe, gow, gough, gowe), zinc(zink), might he (mighty, my tee, meigh tee, migh tee, my ty, meigh ty, migh ty, mite hee, myte hee, meight hee, mite hie, myte hie, meight hie, mite hei, myte hei, meight hei, mite heigh, myte heigh, meight heigh, mite hey, myte hey, meight hey, mite hy, myte hy, meight hy) go(goe, gow, gough, gowe) there(their, thare, they’re, thair) to(two, too, tough, tue, tew, toup) take(teak) our(our, ower, ougher) nine(nighn, neign, nyn) eggs(egs), uh.
All(awl, aul, oll) is(izz, iz) known(none, nown, non, noughn, noen), utter(udder) destruction(dee-, de-, dea-, con-, kon-, cun-, kun-, struck-, struc-, tion, sion, shun) is (izz, iz) dated(dayted, day dead, day ded, deighted, deigh dead, deigh ded, daited, dai dead, dai ded, deyted, dey dead, day ded) that he(hee, hie, hei, hey, hy) might(mite, myte, meight) hate(hait, height, haight, heat) those(thowes, thoughs, thothes, thows, thoes, thos) high(hie, heigh, hei, hy, hi), stupid(stewpid, stoopid, stuepid, stoughpid, stoupid) butterfingers(budderfingers, budderfeangers, budderfingurs, budderfeangurs)– huh? – that he(hee, hie, hei, hey, hy) might(mite, myte, meight) hate(hait, height, haight, heat) Wood’s(woods, woulds) surf(serf).

Okay, now back to work for me!! I really need to get a life!!

This is the story of Dr. Shannon and Mr. Jive...

2005-01-25T11:45:00.000-08:00

This is what happens when you run my "Lost in Translation" post through the dialectizer (set to "jive"): http://www.rinkworks.com/dialect/

You will realize that I have serious language issues if you try pasting that post in yourself; it didn't sound jivy enough for me, so I did a little editing. Gotta wonder about me thinking I am an expert on jive...Then again, I could conceivably be a bit more well-versed in it than some algorithm. I do have some linguistic background, after all. And I saw Airplane (http://larry.teamoverkill.com/jive/) and Trading Places!! Maybe next time I'll translate a little something into Anglo-Norman (I'm sure you's is aw sittin' up'n takin' notice now. What it is, Mama!)...

I ax'ed fo' de DVD uh dis movie last summa; it wuz one uh dose doodads evereybody kep' recommendin' since it radical relates t'my sucka'al situashun (lost in Seoul; ah' still don' rap no Ko'ean, yaddah, yaddah. Lop some boogie...) , and since ah' can neva' seem t'get t'de movies dese days...I wants'ed t'see whut all de fuss wuz about. Man! So's yes, some great flick, dough t'be fair, Ko'ea idn' 'esactly Jay-pan, and ya' do tend t'get used t'some doodads when you'n 'espat an' not a visito' (fo' 'esample, afta' 18 monds, ah' dink ah' can say I'm upside de jet lag. What it is, Mama!..). Also, bein' in sum family situashun means dat ah' have mah' own little wo'ld t'occupy mah' time and am shielded fum freakin' contact dat ah' might actually look fo' if ah' wuzzun' tryin' ta keep mah' girl chile from bustin' in huh lil' haid o' tryin' t'scrub dem crayons off de wallsheet. (Memo t'myseslf, dig dis: ah' real do need t'get out mo'e wid mah' cam'ra n' take sum pixers uh de tent-bar-slash-carwuzh and sum uh de oda' crazy spots I've moseyed on down across [ touch de puppet haid ]). Gotsta love dat Bill Murray; whut gots me in da mood fo' dis post wuz sometin' he say in de IHT (Int'l Herald Tribune fo' dose uh ya' stateside; like da NYT...but wid comics! Right on!). Seems like an interviewa' wuz ax'in' Murray about his reputashun fo' bein' difficult t'wo'k wid. An' Murray, he say (I jus' wish ah' could mosey on down up wid sump'n likes dis, dough who would ax me?): "Dey say ya' catch mo'e flies wid honey dan wid vinegar. Ah be baaad... But let me say dis, dig dis: Who. 'S coo', bro. Be wantin'. Flies." Hey. 'S coo'. Bill.

As for the title of this post, lest you slept your way through the '80s: http://display.lyrics.astraweb.com:2000/display.cgi?men_at_work%2E%2Ebrazil%2E%2Edr_heckyll_amp_mr_jive
(although personally, I prefer "Down Under" and "Who Can it be Now?")

under the knife

2005-01-18T22:00:00.000-08:00

Some people go shopping; I have surgery. There's nothing quite like it: the rush of a good dose of Valium after a 12-hour fast, the dizzying disorientation brought on by lack of adequate corrective eyewear, the thrill of new scars in cool and unusual places... Okay, some I'm not actually a hospital junkie: the gowns are all wrong for me fashion-wise (my bony rear not being the feature I most like to put on display), the beds are doubtless the distant descendants of the medieval rack, and the food... if they even let you have any, you usually wish you were still fasting and getting sustenance by way of morphine drip.

Nevertheless, I seem to have met more than my fair share of knife- (or laser-) wielding MDs set on separating me from my more useless/dangerous body parts. I started out with the basic wisdom tooth excision: pleasant laughing gas, forgotten recovery room ramblings, and a week of ice cream and low-grade painkillers. Not too bad, I told myself; I should do this more often.

The second time around was slightly more palpitating (and far less pleasant): tonsillectomy at age 20. This is supposed to be kid stuff, not even inpatient if you are under 18. Not so for the elderly twentysomething, for whom it is major surgery and takes longer to heal. I got a nice private room, a panic attack upon waking up in recovery and being unable to breathe or swallow, a wicked sore throat and a super diet plan. Too bad I REALLY didn't need to lose those 10 lbs. Permanent ice cream headache for 2 weeks; I decided maybe surgery was not a worthwhile hobby. The gods , however, decided otherwise...

Shortly afterward, I entered the frequent-suture plan: rack up enough stitches and you get a minor operation on the house (no cosmetic surgery, unfortunately). 2 minor hand surgeries (1 carpal tunnel, 1 exploratory) were followed by 1 major hand/leg surgery (same hand) during which time I racked up enough miles to get a free appendectomy or frontal lobotomy (minus private room and other surcharges), then another minor hand surgery, then a bona fide hack job during which I wowed them all by sitting up just as the bone saw began to hum (no joke; took 10 years off the surgeon and 15 off the anesthesiologist!). All this to remove a little tumor I called Fred and his offspring, which I didn't think to name. Bummer; I lost my awesomely long scar and my joke about having the world's longest lifeline... all the way up to my elbow...

Let's not count childbirth, shall we... no c-sections...

Between kids, I must have started to miss the hospital: I had a close call with an appendectomy but ended up just spending the night on the digestive surgery wing for observation. 10 months later, excision of a big &*%$ing cyst next to my knee (over 2 inches long). At least I got another impressive scar out of it... and another inpatient experience to add to my list.

After the 2nd kid, re-cyst (albeit smaller) in Korea, where the hospital food is better but everything else is pretty much the same. I added on an arthroscopy this time for kicks: not recommended because it's SUPER painful and you don't even get any scars out of it (3 little dots around the kneecap). I couldn't kneel for months after (and I hate praying flat on my back, don't you)!

Latest in a long line: laparoscopy. What a neat little invention: hardly any scars (2 tiny dots and a couple of sutures around the scar everyone was born with), and no knives. Amazing what they can do with lasers these days... Of course, my favorite part is when they blow you up like a balloon (literally fill you with CO2) so they can get a good look at your insides. Gotta love paying someone to make you look and feel like a beached whale with none of the perks of pregnancy (indulging in cravings, the "glow", maternity leave...). This was supposed to be an outpatient procedure but surprise, surprise: the wee spy camera spotted some illegal collusion between organs (think ovary superglued to intestine, that sort of thing) and the laser guns were sent in to break it up. Two adhesions, one 4 inches long; you have to worry when your organs start ganging up on you. How long before all-out mutiny?

At least I have good health insurance. And a hospital with cable.

Lost in Translation

2005-01-10T04:47:00.000-08:00

I asked for the DVD of this movie last summer; it was one of those things evereybody kept recommending since it sort of relates to my personal situation (lost in Seoul; I still speak no Korean, yaddah, yaddah...) , and since I can never seem to get to the movies these days...I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

So yes, a great flick, though to be fair, Korea is not exactly Japan, and you do tend to get used to some things when you are an expat as opposed to a visitor (for example, after 18 months, I think I can safely say I'm over the jet lag...). Also, being in a family situation means that I have my own little world to occupy my time and am shielded from bewildering contact that I might actually seek out were I not catching my daughter as she hurls headfirst off the coffee table (again) or trying to scrub crayon off the wallpaper. (Memo to myseslf: I really do need to get out more with my camera, snap a picture of the tent-bar-slash-carwash and some of the other fabulously esoteric spots I've come across [ touch the puppet head ]).

Gotta love Bill Murray; what actually got me motivated for this post was a quote from him in the IHT (Int'l Herald Tribune for those of you stateside; basically an int'l version of the NYT...but with comics!). Seems an interviewer was asking Murray about his reputation for being difficult to work with. Murray's response (I so wish I could come up with something like this, though who would interview me?): "They say you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. But let me say this: Who. Wants. Flies."

You. Go. Bill.

Krispy Kreme in Seoul

2005-01-05T17:02:00.000-08:00

06 janvier 2005

Krispy Kreme in Seoul

When we moved to Seoul in July of 2003, I was impressed by the number of Dunkin Donuts outlets here. I was also dismayed to find that there was not one Krispy Kreme outlet to be found. Ah, those lighter-than-air Hot Now glazed doughnuts (spelled as Mother Orthograph intended, and not subject to the fonetik kraze... okay, so the company name belies that, but still, a doughut is a doughnut is a doughnut...)

My loyalty to KK doesn't come from the fact that my parents currently live near its corporate HQ in Winston-Salem - I have no loyalty to RJR nor Hanes - but rather from the fact that I take years to digest anyone else's lead-filled variety. Not to mention the fact that DD's specimens are often dismayingly stale to boot. Don't know why that guy gets up at 4 a.m. to make the "donuts" when no one is going to buy them until 7...

Anyway, I had looked into the franchising info and decided that THAT was not an option (as I didn't have $2 million in handy cash, never mind several other successful franchise operations) and was gloomily pondering the prospect of going without doughnuts for perhaps several years (never bothered me during all those years in France, but with the DD reminder on every streetcorner, suddenly I was in serious crave mode) when one day I saw a tiny blurb in the Korea Herald. KK was coming to Seoul!

After biding my time for a few months, I was pleasantly surprised (and amused) to receive an e-mail from the American Women's Club announcing that the USO would be running free shuttle buses on the day of KK's grand opening. Took me forever to find the USO (I had a nice mutually incomprehensible conversation with some Korean soldiers at the wrong gate of the military base), but not as long as it would have to find KK on my own.

At last, the blessed moment arrived. I stepped off the bus to find a Korean Elvis impersonator and a Korean Superman dancing to loud pop music and trying to entice the wary passersby in this upscale area of town into coming inside and tasting their wares. Not the typical US Grand Opening, but charming in its way, I guess. There was also a welcoming committee for the Americans on the shuttle bus: trainers from Winston, Greensboro and ... Oklahoma? ... waving us in, giving us a free hot glazed doughnut and coaching the Korean staff to take our order. I savored the free sample, picked up a dozen glazed (at 12,00 won or $11 a pop, I guess it's a good thing the store is hidden halfway across the city), tried to win a free gift at the dart throw (silly me, I hit the bullseye instead of one of the doughnuts on the outside of the spinning wheel: game over, better luck next time) and hopped into a taxi home.

All in a day's work for the Seoul survivor (no way you're getting ME on an Atkins diet!)