Seoulscapade

A great deal was advertised on TV in Seoul recently where you could get a new LG Cyon mobile phone—the strangely named Viewty, model KH2100, for only 26,000 won. It included a charger in the deal and since we needed an extra one of those, we bought the phone.

It’s got all the stuff you’d expect of a latest hand phone, including a cool touch screen instead of any buttons (except for off and on). It came with a cable to hook the phone up to Cyon’s Mobile Sync software. Unfortunately, this software is all in Korean and some fonts just appear as questions marks on my English XP system. But after trial and error I could figure out how to import a CVS file of my numbers into the phone and sync pictures.

Separately from this software, it’s also possible to connect to the phone’s portable 450 MB disk to upload images, text files or music. Great, I thought, I’ll just copy over some MP3 files and away I go—wrong! Like many before me, I misread the signs. When it says MP3 in all advertising, on all of the phone’s music settings, and even on the name of the phone’s default music folder, it does not mean it plays MP3! How stupid of me to think so.

The Cyon can’t play MP3s. Instead, it plays KMPs, which I’ve never heard of. There’s not much info on the net, and I could only find a Mac program that would do conversions—don’t be fooled by something called a KMPlayer, it’s just like GOM Player and doesn’t do conversions—but then I stumbled onto a Korean blog with a small conversion program that thankfully works.

You can download it from here. You don’t need to install it, everything is ready to go in the folder.

Once again, like the Cyon software, this program is made for a Korean operating system so most fonts are question marks, as shown above. Through trial and error again, I figured out how to get it to work. Here are the steps following what I’ve illustrated in the image:

1. This is where you locate and load the MP3 file you want to convert.

2. Put your mobile number (or any number) in here. It won’t work without this.

3. Select the output directory.

4. Do the conversion, which takes about 2 seconds.

Just above the convert button is a button to clear the contents.

It’s called a Healing Tao, or at least that’s what’s stamped on the back of it. It’s supposed to be good for internal health, and according to my wife, a lot of people swear by it. And so does she now, after trialing it, and so do I, after hearing about and witnessing some of its effects.

So how do you use it? Well, all you do is lay on it, with those knobs pressing into your stomach. You’re supposed to do this for about half an hour or so. My wife managed 5 minutes before bed one night. It was simply too painful to continue. But that was enough for her because the next morning she was amazed at, um, how shall I put it, at how the final act of the digestive process had improved.

That’s essentially what the thing is for to aid the digestive process. The handles, I presume, are if you want to use it like a massaging machine. As for the handle with tapered end, I’d hate to think what that might be for. I’m sure it’s use does not involve anything painful. The knobs can be taken out to reduce the number of pressure points on the stomach, too.

I’ve noted that it causes burping pretty soon after you start laying on it. So, my skepticism has been cured to some extent. As for its full affects, I can’t be sure. I can only go on what people say. But what a curious invention. I’m also intrigue at how anyone would come up with such a contraption.

I guess he or she wanted to improve on hand massaging. Some of my wife’s friends massage their stomachs after meals to aid digestion, a technique that has probably been passed down from generation to generation. This thing is just an extension of that.

My wife can now last quite a while on it without groaning with pain. As for me, I’ll pass on it for the time being.

OK, here’s some explanation to the following. I’ve traveled a bit and have put up with what most have to while traveling without a fuss. But everyone has their limits and when you stand back and take a cold hard look at it, some things about traveling really suck.

Why I became so annoyed about what people commonly put up with is perhaps because I’ve been spoiled by the Korea’s excellent transport systems–far superior to those of Europe. This discrepancy, and the fact that I’m less tolerant than I used to be, has compelled to write of the following ordeal.

To start our 2 week vacation to the south of France in January, 2008, we had to endure a 10-12 hour flight to Paris, then transfer to a 1.3 hour flight to Nice, which was delayed for another couple of hours. It was wearying as you can imagine.

Livestock Conditions

I was dreading Flight AF 267 from Incheon to Paris because I knew it’d be grueling. As it turn out, it was, with additional unforeseen trials adding to the hardship.

The Boeing 777 used for this flight had a seating arrangement installed for economy that borders on the inhuman. I mean, I’m strongly against the appalling confinements livestock suffer, and in all fairness I also object to such conditions being applied to humans.  It was like a kind of torture and patently not suitable for 10-12 hour flights. I really think flight seating measurements should be looked into because I swear the airlines, or Air France at least, are shrinking them centimetre by centimetre each year, on the sly.

I am not a large person at just 77 kgs and I’m under 6 feet tall, but what I was expected to fit into gave me practically no moving space at all. It was similar, I guess, to what sows sufferer in factory farm gestation crates, which is torture. I find it hard to believe that anyone else could find this restricted space acceptable after paying so much for an airline ticket. Why do people put up with it?

I had to get out to stretch at one point and upon my return, while standing in the aisle, I was taken aback by the space I was expected to fit in. Just seeing it from that angle, I just couldn’t believe it. I stood there kind of stunned. I actually went and inspected other rows to check that my seating was not worse then everyone else’s.

The Three Little Pigs

As if the cramped quarters weren’t bad enough, we had what can only be described as inconsiderate arseholes sitting in front of us, who henceforth shall be known as the three little pigs. The pigs were French, by the way, not Korean. As soon as they sat down they inclined their seats as far back as they would go, and that’s how they stayed for the duration of the flight. That reduced my space considerably. Sometimes the guy in front of my was bouncing hard on his seat as if to try and force it back further. Unbelievable. It took a lot of restraint to keep my cool.

To be fair, the monk was not as bad, he actually raised his seat to eat meals. However, that was no help to us, since a fat lady was in front of my wife and the bouncer, a pompous prick with a nose like something on a gargoyle was in front me. Both of them were oblivious to any consideration towards us. As the flight began to drain our energies, we began to hate them.

It was also aggravating that the three little pigs had the seats by the exit door, so they had all the leg room they could want. And so, they spread themselves out in that direction as well by leaving items lying around their feet. They had to be asked several times by airline staff to pick up their things. But they pretty much ignored these directives.

In situations like this, I often give up because I don’t want to lower my standards to their level with petulant retaliations, and because I am sometimes benumbed by the sheer enormity of human stupidity and ignorance—so insurmountable that it is foolish to even bother to protest. It’s like when you a dealing with children, or even pigs, you indulge their lack of insight. It does not always do much to lessen the anger.

Double Standards by Air France

Does Air France use such a torturous seating arrangement because it’s a Korean flight and because there is a mistaken belief that Koreans are smaller than Caucasians? It is true that the Japanese are smaller on average than Caucasians, and it might have once been true of Koreans, but it is not true of the average Korean anymore. Air France needs to adjust its policy, not just for Caucasians like me flying out of Korea, but for Koreans, too.

On top of everything an incident occurred that could only be described as discrimination. My wife, who is Korean, was like me finding the confinement of the seating hard to cope with. By the way, she is somewhat smaller than me, and even she found it torturous. The woman in front of her ignored any protest. At one point, it got too much for my wife and she asked one of the stewards to get the person in front to put her seat up. The steward simply shrugged and did nothing. However, later, my wife noticed a steward asking a Korean passenger to put their seat up at the request of someone seated behind them.

Is there a special rule for French passengers and another rule for everyone else? It would seem so because, to add insult to injury, the rude people in front of us were not even made to put their seats up during meal service. Putting seats upright is usually a standard requirement on all airlines at meal times. Why does Air France not practice this policy? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to eat a meal when the person in front of you has the seat back as far as it will go?

The only advantage of nearly having my chest crush by the seat in front of me was that the video screen was now closer. This was useful because my video screen was tiny. As I later discovered, the screen sizes on seats were completely random as to who got a good screen and who didn’t. Some people had new larger screens while others like me, who presumably paid the same price for a ticket, got a tiny old fashion screen that was like watching an iPod. This only added to the resentment of the conditions I was expected to endure.

Why didn’t I put my seat back to give myself a few more inches? Because I hate to inconvenience the person behind me.

Vegetarian? Rabbit Food Will Do.

I was the subject of reverse discrimination, however, because I had pre-ordered a vegetarian meal. That meant I was served before everyone else. That part was fine. But what could the nation renowned for its rich cuisine deliver? For my main course, I was given salad. For my side dish, I was given yet another salad—the same kind of salad! One was big, the other was small. So, my meal mostly consisted of lettuce and and cherry tomatoes.

But I will give them credit where it was due. My meal was not delayed.

Delay After Delay

It was a great relief to get off that flight, but then we had to contend with Charles De Gaulle, which is a dump compared to Korea’s Inchean. We couldn’t see any signs for transfer to a domestic flight and had to face French information desk staff to get help. We were encouraged by not getting as much disdain as I expected. There was even a smile. I suspected something was wrong—or perhaps she was new.

We rushed to another terminal and got to the security check a couple of minutes before the close of boarding. We needn’t have worried about the time because the fight was delayed. And then as we were boarding, boarding was delayed because they wouldn’t open the plane door. Then on board the flight was delayed further while they moved cargo around for balance. I doubt such a delay would even happen in Korea—people wouldn’t stand for it.

By this time weariness was setting in, and so was body odor from stewing in one’s own juices for something like 14 hours. This plane wasn’t full, though. It was so empty, the first 10 rows had to move to the back to provide ballast for take off!

The aircraft was an Airbus A320, and this actually had leg room, by which I mean room for a pair of average legs plus some extra space for leg movement. This kind of aircraft would have been much better for the Seoul to Paris flight.

The flight to Nice was pretty quick and the airport wasn’t busy. Fortunately I had researched about getting into town, but I asked at the information desk anyway, who told me less than what I already knew. It’s funny, they’ll tell you to catch a bus at platform 5 but they will not tell you where platform 5 is. They will help you but only with the  minimum they can get away with. We couldn’t see any signs to direct us the the platform, and it was only be chance we eventually found it.

Getting Into Nice

To get into Nice from the airport’s Terminal 2 take bus 98. Pay the jaded driver around 4 Euros per person. Don’t bother to ask him for any help unless you can interpret grunts. He’ll give you a one day pass that is good for all bus routes.

Bus 98 does not have a map of its route anywhere. You don’t know where it will stop, and when it stops, you don’t know the name of the stop. This would never happen in Korea, not with such a pressing need for efficient mass movement. In France, if it’s only bedraggled tourists that will be faced with confusion, who gives a shit?

I had a map I’d printed off and an idea of where we were going in my head. Still, it was dark because of the delayed flight, which I hadn’t planned on, and I could not read any signs of significance. The scale threw me as well. Distances were smaller than expected. So, I didn’t have my bearings and wasn’t ready for our stop.

That was another bit of bad luck, as the bus got stuck in a main drag traffic jam before the next stop. Fortunately, our walk to the hotel didn’t take long because, as mentioned, distances were not great.

Salvation at the Roosevelt

At the Hotel Roosevelt, at the very doorstep of our destination, the whole dynamics of the journey changed. Here we were treated like humans. We were greeted in a most pleasant and helpful way by the desk clerk. The hotel foyer was simple, clean and neat and this was also reflected in the room. A kettle was even supplied, so we could have a welcome coffee, which you don’t often get these days.

What a relief it was to finally collapse on the bed, after what ended up being around 18 hours of uncomfortable travel. We were thoroughly exhausted.

Air France and Institutionalized Merde

My last word on this jaunt is that because Air France has a monopoly on direct flights to Paris from Korea, it possibly believes it can get away with anything. However, I suggest that Air France rethink their seating policies and upgrade their fleet. I certainly won’t be taking the direct route to Paris again on Air France until I hear that conditions are better.

To learn how to improve, Air France need only look and learn from the Koreans. The flight back from Paris was magical with Korean Air compared to the torture of getting there with Air France. With Korean Air, people in economy have more space. The video screens were the largest I had ever seen and the viewing selections the widest range I have ever seen. There must have been about 20 to 30 movies to watch. The staff ensures seats are upright at meal times and were courteous at all times.

I won’t go on because, quite frankly, what the French could learn from Koreans, in terms of customer service, transport and consideration of others, would fill an entire book.

First Woman : Your hair looks really nice today.
Second Woman : Oh, thanks, but all I did was use a cock on it.
First Woman : Really? Mmm . . . I might start doing that.
Second Woman : Oh, yes, a cock is an all in one beauty care system.

Yes, that’s right, it’s not a sex toy. It really is a common hair brush, which is fortunate because that’s what I had hoped I was buying.

What the hell were they thinking?

I’m imagining the boardroom of the manufacturer, when the design team sat to consider an appropriate brand name for their “Beauty Care System” (as it says on the label), or rather this common hair brush. They wanted to give it a cool English name. No one there knew much English. An English dictionary is called for. They fling it open, desperate now because the head guy at the end of the boardroom table is getting impatient. He wants a name decided on so they can start moving product.

They look up “leader” because they want to impress that their brush is a leading product on the market. But the synonyms don’t sound right; “boss”? no, “director”? no, “rooster”? no, they want something cooler. They find “cock”—hey, bingo, what about that? Yeah, it’s shot and snappy. Yeah, that’s cool. Yeeeaaaah.

They explain to the head that they’ve found a word, and that it means “leader.” He’s impressed. He likes that sentiment. He nods his ascent because he likes to think of himself as a, well, a “leader”-head. The Cock goes into production. English speakers all over Korea are aghast.

I’m clutching at straws here.

Maybe they were thinking in terms of to erect, to fabricate, to fashion, as Roget’s Thesaurus has it. Thus, “the Cock” is Konglish for “the Fashioner.” Could that be it?

Really, it’s beyond me.

Look at his man. Would you say he is your average kind of middle-aged married man, perhaps with an equally average wife and a kid or two? If you think he looks mild-mannered, respectable, like a man who works hard day in day out to support a family, you’d have an impression that most people get. He is just Mr. Average.

In fact, this guy is so average looking that he’s made a career out of it. That’s how he appears in soap operas here, not as a big star or some villain in the piece, but as Mr. Average—a normal, average family guy going about his business in the background. That’s his specialty. But make no mistake, remember that this man is a professional. If he appears to be an average man with nothing remarkable about him, it’s because that’s the image he works hard to project.

And if you think that’s all he can do as a professional, you’d be wrong because this guy is just exploding with talent. He is much more than your average guy. For there’s a side to him that refuses to settle for the background—and rightly so. He’s got something others don’t have, and besides, that other side to him simply won’t let him rest. He’s got to let it out.

It’s the side of himself that he reveals for his second job. It’s the side that has been recognized by the advertising industry for its genius. Here I present its many facets all based around a single theme, and yet, a theme whose every colour and shade is explored.

Here you see him warming up. This is prior to what I call “full throttle.” Here, he still resembles an average guy, in the pub after a hard day’s work. But he’s toying with us, it’s nothing compared to what is to come.

In this performance, he has obviously based his work on sports cheering. But while this represents the point of maximum expansion for the average person, it is only half measures for him. In fact, we are witnessing a point of transition here, the point at which this man shakes the vestments of an average sensibility and cuts his other side loose.

I refer to that other side of him that is a rampant, raving, screaming lunatic.

Here is Mr. Average going absolutely nuts. Will you look at the size of that gob! He’s not simply a solo performer either, as the next shot shows.

Intelligently, he’s chosen a woman to run around with while going berserk. Such performances give an idea of the wide range of his acting talent, stretched to the limit. Legend has it, that when plied with enough rice wine—as I suspect he has been for the following photo shoot—he is able to swallow an entire football, provided it’s exterior is lubricated with fish oil.

He has his critics, of course, the most outspoken being Julia Roberts, whose snide remarks classifying him as a mere amateur are clearly driven by jealousy. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a matter of who was first to have a mouth the width of a football, it’s what you do with it for the public good that counts. Look at the following, we can even see tears from the sheer effort he is putting into it.

I’ve become a great admirer of his work, not the work in soaps because I’ve never seen them, but the work you see represented in these images. Take this typical scene of a typical Korean couple after a hard day’s work. Cutting edge, with it’s retro-60s look. And that’s a nice sweater, too. Even here, some wide mouth work is incorporated seamlessly. Well done!

It’s more than the fact he is clearly multi-talented, or that his talents are so rare and uncommon—no, it’s that he’s an inspiration to all average guys out there. His very image is an icon of encouragement, saying to us that if we have become too average, there is a solution, and that solution is to become a raving, screaming lunatic.

Whaaaa, indeed, Mr. Average—allow me to salute you publicly. You’re a legend and an inspiration.

The memory of a Qantas flight on my way back to Australia from Korea won’t go away so I thought I’d record it now, late as it is. It was April 29, 2005, when I took the night flight in question from Hong Kong to Perth, arriving early in the morning. The flight name may have been QF68, as it is now called.

I was seated across and back a few seats from a family man, who might have been immigrating. He was Middle Eastern in appearance, perhaps Turkish or Lebanese, I don’t know. His English was not at a native level. He had an aisle seat facing the paneling in the middle of the aircraft. It was the kind of seat I would have liked because of the extra leg room.

For some reason, this guy attracted all the attention of the Qantas flight staff—attention of the wrong kind. Right from the start, they were harassing him. Do this, do that, don’t leave that there. You can’t do this, you can’t do that. He wasn’t really doing much wrong, as far as I could see, no more than anyone else. He just had an exposed kind of seat, I suppose, on the corner.

Now, I’ll leave this passenger for a moment to describe the staff to give an idea of the flight experience for me. Gone are the days when you will see attractive hostesses on a Qantas flight. It’s not the done thing to discriminate anymore, and Australia is big on equality issues, or tries to be. So, the air-hostesses (air-hostpersons?) were all, well, let’s say past their prime. But that didn’t bothered me so much as their manner. They were gruff, showed signs of impatience and called people “Love.” If I closed my eyes, I could have sworn I was in a country pub listening to coarse tones of a old-time barmaid.

As an Australian, I found this brash manner and country-bumpkin informality not just far from the air-hostess ideal, it was also far from being internationally chic. I couldn’t help but feel seriously embarrassed. I wondered what people from other nations on the flight were thinking. It made me sink down further into my seat and hope that others didn’t think I was Australian. In effect, I cringed.

When we got a meal, these women were almost throwing heated foil containers onto our trays. I watched as my meal left the hostesses hands a few inches above my tray. It actually flew. It was something you would see in a comedy movie. “There ya go, Love,” she said.

But back to the poor gentleman on the aisle. Things came to a head with him after we had landed in Perth. There was some confusion about fumigation, the spraying of the inside of the aircraft. I can’t remember the exact details, but I think at first it was going to be done, so we had to remain seated, and then it wasn’t going to be, so we were told we could all leave. Everyone got up and started getting down their baggage. Then, suddenly, it was decided that spraying was going to be done after all, so we all had to sit down again. It was a debacle.

The foreign gentleman, however, was not quick enough in sitting down. I doubt he even knew what was going on, and who could blame him? At that point, a burly hostesses arrived on the scene and started badgered him to sit, hastily and roughly. There might have been some man handling. That was when he finally snapped. He loudly spoke back, saying something like, “Stop your pushing me!” or “Stop treating me like that!”

I was thinking, good on him. But then he become the focus of attention for a steward as well and there was a stand off, with more commands for him to sit down with authoritarian menace. And with that, this guy was transformed into the bad guy, the one holding things up.

I was thinking that if it escalates, I’m going to intervene on that guy’s behalf. But it didn’t progress, and the guy sat down, looking really dejected. I saw him later in the terminal, still looking stressed and angry. I thought about going up and apologizing to him. I didn’t, though, because I thought it might not go well, or he might take things out on me, or it just wasn’t appropriate.

I really wish now that I had done something, not just then in the terminal, but back in the plane when the guy was being picked on. Perhaps that’s why I remember this flight with bitterness, partly because I didn’t act when I should have. No one else did anything, either.

One thing is certain, when I stepped off that flight to set foot again in my own country, I was never more ashamed and embarrassed to be an Australian. So, so ashamed and embarrassed.

I have not flown with Qantas since.

To my mind, anyone who would buy a pair of these are perhaps a tad overly focused on their toilet organs. What you see here is the inside out version, so you can properly appreciate the mechanics of how it all works. Now, I’ve never heard of penises flying off in all directions or sneaking around the side of your leg. Where the hell do they think one’s member is going to go that they need to put a collar on it. No, this has got sado-masochist starter-kit written all over it, if you ask me. This is how it starts, and before you know it, you’re shopping for underwear in the toy department. Homeplus—clean up your act!

No, it’s not a black and white photo, but when I stumbled on this kids store in Dongdaemun I had to blink a couple of times to check it wasn’t something wrong with me. Simplifying one’s life is one of the keys to being centred for new-age pundits, and the owner of this store, it seems, has embraced that philosophy. Otherwise, he or she has succumb to the headaches and stresses of selling fashion clothing and decided to just give up. To be fair, though, you can get away with wearing a bit of black and white anytime, so maybe the owner is smarter than everyone else.

They are most certainly smarter than anyone attempting to create a 60s retro fashion revolution for kids all by themselves, as the owner of this next store appears to be. Who would make their kids wear this stuff?

I’ve seen some unusual things in Korean stores and I’ve reach the point where I think some things should be reported to the authorities. However, I don’t know what authorities in Seoul deal with such matters. I suspect a department hasn’t even been set up to monitor what is going on, given the assaults on the senses that I’ve been subjected to. So I’ll just put my report in this section on an ongoing basis.

This is the first product that caught my attention when I came to Korea. Naturally, I had to try some. It does indeed have a “soft flavor,” as opposed to a hard one, and they’ve added some peach to take the edge of the natural Coolpis tang, to make it more fruity than, I suppose, kidney. Actually, I prefer my chilled rather than hot and steaming, but each to their own, I guess.