40

So, I turned 40 years old recently. Not sure how I feel about that. I don't look 40. I don't feel 40. I certainly don't act 40. The year leading up to 40 was pretty fucked. So have the weeks following. I've been relating a lot to Louie C.K. I'm 40, a failed father and recent divorcee. I live in a foreign country because I'm too lazy to make an actual living in my own country and I drink far too much. Am I happy? Hell, no. Am I depressed? Not really. Do I care? Hmmm... maybe a little.

When the wife left, it was a little shocking to say the least. I was bewildered. I spent weeks analyzing what went wrong. I paced. I fretted. I shaved my head. Just before she left, I had just got screwed over by my last job teaching English. I was stressed out about that first, when I got bombed by my wife. I was incapable of finding a new job, I was gutted. I would wake up at 6 pm, eat, watch TV and go to the bar at about 2 am. I did that for months. I was awake for 16 hours a "day" like every one else, but I spent most of it awake at night, sitting at the bar, drinking beer and Jagger.  On the odd occasion I would find a sympathetic shoulder to cry on and usually take them home. These pathetic attempts at intimacy actually did me some good. My confidence found a new source. I realized that women still found me attractive as a 40 year old deadbeat alcoholic divorcee dad. I wasn't the worst one off. I once lived on the streets with no shoes. I met a guy with no feet. I took his shoes.

I'm often asked "If you hate Korea so much, why don't you just leave?" My answer is actually a couple reasons. First off, I'm white in Asia. I'm practically a god here. I just have to show up to an interview and I have the job. I could be wearing a dirty t-shirt and jeans, stinking of gin, incoherently drunk, and still get the job. Simply because I'm white, have blue eyes and speak English. I just cancelled an interview and the recruiter was shocked because I didn't want the job. She couldn't understand why I didn't want to teach English at 7:30 in the morning 2 days a week for $50 an hour. First, I usually go to bed at about 6 am, so I'm not getting up an hour later to teach. Second, for $50 an hour 2x a week, that only works out to about $400 a month, which barely covers my rent. In my current job, which is just design and editing, I don't even have to get out of bed. I just turn on the computer and people pay me the same rate per hour. I keep my own hours and it's more than 2 days a week. I know I'm being lazy and it's a first world problem, but shit-- I'm 40 and worked long and hard enough that I should be able to dictate what I do. I did what my wife told me to do for 6 years and where did that get me?

Now, before you get all defensive and bombard me with comments, hear me out. I didn't create this environment. The Korean government did. Parents crazy about education did this. They have created such a situation in their craziness, they have had to hire foreign workers to actually do all the work that needs doing, to run the country. Their children are too precious to work in a factory or clean up the garbage they themselves have thrown all over the street because of a lack of garbage cans. And then, they complain about the bad quality of foreigners, that again, THEY have let into the country. So, if you are a Korean and are reading this, stop blaming the foreigner. You did this to yourself by refusing to do 3D jobs, and getting so crazy about education that children are no longer allowed to be children and they study 16 hours a day learning shit they will never use and spending a fortune on it. As long as you're willing to pay me money, I'm going to take it. Thank you very much, now fuck off.

Second, because my wife left me with no contact for over a year, I've had to do everything myself. I have 9 years of my life here. It's a lot of baggage to get rid of. I have money tied up in my house. TVs, furniture, a dog. Since, when I leave, I'll be going by plane as there is no other way to get out of the country, I have to get rid of everything, get all my money back and find a home for my dog. No easy feat in a country that can't speak English, no matter how much money they spend learning it.

9 Years?!? How come you can't speak Korean? I can understand some of it, but I can't speak it because every time I try, Koreans laugh at me. They don't want to teach me Korean because they are too busy trying to get me to teach them English. My "ex"-wife spoke English all the time and whenever I needed to use Korean, she would translate for me. There was no need for me to learn Korean. There is now, but now I'm trying to get the hell out of here... where am I going to use Korean once I've gone? What's the point?

In addition to my laziness because I have it so easy, and my excessive baggage, I also have immigration problems due to getting drunk and fighting too much due to my marriage collapsing. The government won't let me leave. I'm under investigation for marriage fraud and I have to go to court and pay my fines. I literally couldn't leave the country if I tried. And I have tried on New Year's with three Aussie chicks going to New York...

So if this blog finds it's way to the netizens of Korea, fuck off. Vilify me all you want. You created the situation, and I took advantage of it. Some of my issues are my own problems, no one is perfect, but look in the mirror before you kiss my white ass. Eventually I can and will leave, but you will still be stuck in this bullshit country.

Speaking of leaving, since I am 40, still look in my early 30s and have a job that just requires the internet, my mid-life crisis solution has been to travel around the world or just to keep going until I'm too old or too bored. I have enough money from my shit here and the housing deposit to keep going without a job for a couple of months. I have a skill set (computers and graphics) that allow me to find a job pretty easily anywhere in the world so I can make money if I need it. And when I was younger, I did a lot of hitchhiking, so I know how easy it is to travel cheaply.

I haven't determined when I'm leaving, and I really can't because I don't know when all my legal issues will be dealt with. But as soon as I can deal with that and my wife, fear not fellow Korean netizens, I am out of here. Forever. Thank god.

Another new thing I have recently started due to my mid-life crisis, is stand-up comedy. I've gone to a couple of open mics and the response has been good so far. So, if you're in the Seoul area, and you hear of an open mic comedy, check it out, you may just see me.

...and freedom

After that first smoke (I felt like a kid again taking that first drag, I wasn't expecting the head rush) and hastily chugged beer in broad day light as school children and and stressed-out office workers rushed to nowhere around me, I found a phone booth. My cellphone was in minimal power, and I hadn't paid my bill this month, so I had limited calls. I could receive, but not send-- another detrimental notch on my bid to freedom. It's really hard to call for help when your phone doesn't work in any way. I called Kay, my almost new roommate, who had moved in by this time, and a couple other friends, one of which was the girl who was with me when I went to jail in the first place.

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh my God! where have you been?"

"Jail and Immigration. I just got out. They want to deport me."

"That sucks, we just met and now you have to leave?"

"Not yet. They let me go, I have to go to court. We can meet today. I'm free. I'm not leaving anytime soon"

"Okay, I'll have to bring you some white tofu..."

?

As it turns out, tofu is supposed to symbolize purity. So, when you get out of jail, you're given tofu to cleanse your soul. I never got the tofu. She cancelled with a cold, but she called me up at about 2 am, a week later, drunk and demanding we meet right away. I obliged.

I finished the phone calls and caught a cab. 20 minutes later, I was peeling off my dirt-encrusted clothes stuck to my smelly body and basking under the soothing cascades of hot water. After a shave that took longer than the shower, and some fresh clothes, I looked pretty much the same, but smelled much better. After a hamburger and a pizza, I was ready to go, right back to what got me here in the first place...

to Deportation...

... and into the waiting arms of two immigration officers waiting for me at the front door. Since, I wouldn't be able to talk to an investigator until Monday morning, I would have to spend the next 3 nights locked up in the Immigration Detention centre.

So, after a short drive to the detention centre, I went through the entire process of getting a prison uniform and toothbrush again, only an hour after I had gotten rid of the last uniform. This time, I was given the option of buy a phone card so now I had some contact with the outside world. I called my new roommate so he could get a key to the apartment he was supposed to be moving into while I was in jail. I called Kay, my translator, so I could get some things delivered to me, and I called another friend of mine about getting some money to pay this fucking fine off and get the hell out of this joint.

Once Kay dropped of my stuff, I finally didn't smell as bad as I had for the last week of no shower or deodorant. I was able to charge my cellphone so I could access my phonebook and I had about $1000 in cash towards paying off my fine.

The overwhelming dread I felt as I entered the detention area was heightened by the dirtiness of it. It looked like the area hadn't been cleaned since it was built. There was graffiti everywhere and by the sink where we were to brush our teeth or wash, had cockroaches scurrying around it. I was given some blankets and shown to a common area occupied by 2 Chinese and a man from some indeterminable Eastern block country. However, there was a small TV showing an English(!) movie and seemed to have a full cable package. Since Kay had even brought me a couple of paperbacks and I had to only stay for the weekend, I figured I'd be able to handle an additional 2 days of incarnation.

I managed to read an entire book and spent the remainder of the 2 days watching TV and sleeping.

Monday finally arrived and investigators started arriving to interview the detainees. It was only a matter of time until my turn and the discovery of my final fate. As I sat down for my interview, I felt excitement and fear. Anybody who has dealt with any kind of bureaucracy, especially in Korea will know what I mean. The culture dictates that I have to be humble and subservient-- two things I'm not very good at. After answering some basic questions, I inquired as to when I would be able to go home. The investigator looked at me with a kind of shock at the question and replied that I would never be going home, I was being deported back to Canada, of course.

This shocked me, to say the least! I asked why, and was told that it is automatic immigration policy to deport any foreigner with more that $2000 in fines. Now, I've been in trouble before in Korea, and had more than my fair share of fines. I cried out BS and started freaking out on the poor official.

"I've been here 9 fucking years!" I yelled. "You can't deport me or you would have done that years ago! I have a dog, a house, rent to pay, bills to pay! I still have to get a fucking divorce!"

"Calm down."

"I can't calm down! Do you realize what the fuck you're doing? What about all my banking and money I have tied up in my house?

"Please calm down."

"Get the fuck out of here!"

"Perhaps we'll come back when you have calmed down"

I immediately got on the phone to Kay and explained to him what had happened. He, in turn, got on the phone to the police and immigration. A couple hours later, and I was still in a foul mood, the immigration officer came back in and said to me, "Are you married?"

"Yes," I replied, "I already told you that, you idiot."

"To a Korean wife?"

"Yes." My patience wearing ever thinner.

"Sign here, here and here, and you're free to go."

Assha! See you later suckers! You can keep the lotion! Less then 10 minutes later, I had my clothes and all my stuff back and was walking out of the front door. As I breathed the fresh air and basked in the sunlight, I thought about what to do next... cigarette, beer and sex, perhaps I should go home and take a shower and change my clothes first as I walked towards the nearest store to fulfill the first 2 things on my list...

From Jail...

Since I was separated from my wife a year ago, I've been on a little if a bender... for nearly the whole year. There was a brief time that I actually worked, but didn't last long. Mostly, I just been doing the odd graphic design job, some editing, watching a lot of TV and drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. I sometimes wonder how I'm physically able to manage so much.

One of the disadvantages of drinking so much, my tolerance of booze goes up, but my tolerance of fools goes down. Usually Korean men. I get along with Korean women just fine, but almost every time I talk to a Korean man while drinking, I get into a fight. I've been in so many fights, I'm on a first name basis with my Korean police translator. We've even gone out drinking together once or twice.
Anyway, all this fighting was bound to catch up with me at some point and a couple of weeks ago, it landed me in jail. Apparently I had failed to pay a $2000 fine and I had a warrant for my arrest, so the next time I was at the police station, instead of sitting in the drunk tank and going home in the morning, they shipped me off to prison.

Since it was a Saturday night that I was arrested, I spent Sunday in a holding cell before going to prison. That was a joke. It was a room behind the front counter. The door was left unlocked so we could use the bathroom, and other than the two youngsters at the front desk, no security at all. In North America, the typical prisoner would have punched out the two people at the desk and bolted, but in typical Korean fashion, I accepted my fate and calmly awaited my transport to prison. Sunday evening, some police came and hauled me off.

When I got to the prison I was processed and received my prisoner uniform, soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, 3 bowls, plastic chopsticks and a spoon. I was shown to a room that was designed to hold 3 or 4 prisoners at a time. I was the only occupant.

"This isn't so bad." I thought, "I have a whole big room to myself."

The next day I was transferred to a small 1m x 3m room with a small shelf, toilet and TV. Not so good. There was no bed, but I was provided with a couple blankets. I had no brush or comb nor a razor. By the end of a week I looked like a crazed Grizzly Adams. Adapting to my surroundings, I found the toilet brush made a pretty good hairbrush, so I was able to maintain some level of dignity. I had no deodorant and I was given one shower, so by the end of a week, I was smelling pretty rank.

Breakfast the first morning consisted of rice, kimchi and soup. The lunch and dinner that followed consisted of pretty much the same thing-- rice, kimchi and watery, tasteless soup. There's nothing wrong with that food, but 3 times a day, every single day? And I hate rice on the best of days. After a couple meals of me not eating anything, the guards found a prisoner who spoke English, to come talk to me.

I asked him "Do you think white people just eat hamburgers and pizza 3 times a day, everyday?"

To which he replied, "Yes."

I tried to explain that I needed variety in my diet, so he asked if bread, milk or eggs were acceptable. I was okay with anything other than rice, kimchi and soup 3 times daily, so the next morning at breakfast, I got 4 slices of bread, 2 eggs, some strawberry jam and some milk. Then at lunch, I got 4 slices of bread, 2 eggs, some strawberry jam and some milk... and then again at dinner, I got 4 slices of bread, 2 eggs, some strawberry jam and some milk...

In their infinite Korean logic, they had substituted  one thing 3 times a day for a different thing 3 times a day. And they call us barbarians... By the end of the week, I had almost a whole loaf of bread and about 10 packs of jam.

There was no clock in my cell. The lights were on 24 hours a day, so I had no concept of time. Luckily, my window faced south so I could see sunlight. Using the shadows of the bars in the window on my cell wall, and some of the strawberry jam, I was able to fashion a rudimentary sundial. In the morning, the 24 hour lights got much brighter, signalling that it was 6:30 am. At 7 they would do roll call/cell check. At 8, breakfast was served. At 9, the radio would come on (loudly, with no volume control) and at 10 am, the TV would turn on. At 12, lunch was served. Using these as indicators, I was able to "see" what time it was by looking at the strawberry jam marked on my wall. The English-speaking prisoner eventually gave me a watch, but I still couldn't get a razor... am I really going to use the razor to kill myself over a $2000 fine or 40 days in the slammer? Apparently so...

One of the biggest obstacles to overcome was sheer boredom. Both the radio and TV were in Korean only. I tried to sleep as much as a could, but there was no way I was going to be able to sleep the entire 40 days, so I tried to do sit-ups and push-ups to tire myself out. By the end of the week I was able to do 50 of each. Not that great, but I started with only 10 each. Once again, the English-speaker (Kevin) came through for me and gave me a daily newspaper and a bunch of magazines and books. Unfortunately the books and magazines were all about business and economics, but I read them all cover to cover anyway. One day, Kevin brought a woman's magazine called Shape which basically had lots of pictures of women exercising. The next day, he brought me some hand lotion. Great, less than a week in jail, and I'm some one's bitch. With the 24 hour lights and CCTV camera on the ceiling, masturbating was the last thing I had in mind. I still read the magazine cover to cover. Now, I know what shade of lipstick to wear with my outfits.

The next thing a person thinks about while locked up, is how to get out. I had rent to pay, a dog to feed, a new roommate moving in, and no contact with the outside world. My phone battery had died, so I couldn't access my phonebook and they wouldn't let me use a computer to access my phonebook on Google. If I was to pay the $2000 fine, I could have been set free, but I don't have that much cash on hand, and I had no way of contacting anyone to get the cash. Thankfully, one person did know where I was, my police translator/friend, Kay. He came to visit me and I was able to give him a list of things I needed, such as a razor, deodorant, my phone charger and money. The one option made available was to go to court and appeal my fine, maybe get it reduced. This took awhile, because I had to be interviewed and have my case reviewed. Eventually, my appeal was approved and 5 days after going to prison, I was processed again, given my clothes and belongings and led to the front door outside to freedom...

Hello world, again...

It's been awhile since I've written anything. I still haven't heard a word from my "ex" wife. It's now been nearly a year since I last saw her. That's not entirely true... I had to renew my visa, so I went to immigration. I had all the necessary documents-- marriage certificate, family registry-- but when I gave the documents to the official, he asked if we had a daughter! Then there was a little problem with the fact we had two different addresses. The long and short, my six years of marriage is now under investigation for fraud.

As I was more concerned about this "daughter", I went to her parents' house to confront her about it. It turns out it's her niece from her brother's previous marriage. And the hostility! Holy shit. I still don't know what I did the provoke such a reaction and I probably never will know. 6 years of marriage wasn't all honey and roses, but there were some pretty good years in there. Enough, that I think I should at least get some civilized behaviour.

So as it stands, I've been an illegal immigrant in Korea for about 3 months now. I still don't have a job, although I do have an interview for one on Friday. I'm not sure I want to take the job though. I have to wake up at 6:30 am two days a week. Usually I'm just going to sleep at that time. I'm debating if an extra $400 a month is worth the hassle... although that would pay my rent at least. I was supposed to leave the country months ago, but due to many circumstances (that I will explain in later posts), that has been delayed until further notice. In the meantime, as well as dealing with the BS of trying to leave Korea, I have a new roommate. Chris found a job in China last month.

Prologue Part VI

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I wonder why I havn't seen or heard from her in 3 weeks. If she wants her divorce, we have to do it together. At court. In front of a judge. This is something she wanted. Now that I'm willing and able, not a word. I haven't seen her in 6 months. In my paranoia, I'm wondering if she was fucking around and got herself pregnant? She wanted to divorce quickly before, but now she's avoiding me. Is it because I'll notice she is pregnant now, whereas I wouldn't have before?

And it's not just that, it's the issue of Guinness. Is she going to take him or what? What kind of living conditions does she have planned for him?

Prologue Part V

I wonder what my in-laws think of me now? I never met them until 6 months after I'd been married. They tracked us down through a friend of a friend of her's. We met them at the subway station and walked back to one of our first apartments. It was barely bigger then a closet, if fact, my parents had a bigger closet in the house I grew up in. I would hide in that closet when playing hide and seek with my sister-- you could get lost in it, like the wardrobe of narnia, but I regress...

She walked with her mom and talked. I walked with her dad (as he glared at me) and smoked. I learned later it was very rude to smoke in front of your elders. At 35, I usually was the elder. It was so rude that both her older brothers, both of whom were actually older than me, had never been seen smoking by their father although he was well aware they smoked.

After a few meetings, they warmed up to me. I was helpful in the kitchen, I even cooked (they were shocked! Most men can barely cook instant noodles in this country). I can drink like a fish, and her old man finally had a son to hang out with, drink and smoke, without the usual social hangups so prevalent in Korean society (I wasn't korean, after all).

Time went on. We learned more about each other. I'm pretty handy with tools, so I would often help the old man with his various projects. They had a garden restaurant, so when we would visit, I would help with their small zoo, having grown up with a small zoo myself, including geese, horses, dogs, cats and mice. Building new enclosures, feeding chickens, etc.  I helped mom serve customers (a waegook serving us food!?!) They loved me, I was very fond of them. What went wrong?

I wonder what they think if me now?