Winnie the Pervert
This month, I'm now able to communicate with about half of my students, beyond the simple present-tense only call-and-response of "Are you a famous doctor?"/"I am a famous doctor" that caused permanent brain damage last month.
I'm not sure if my students see their English lessons as cheap therapy, or if they simply don't have the ability to lie or hedge in a nonnative language. So when I ask how they're doing, by god, they tell me: "Last week, my girlfriend broke up with me. She said that she does not love me anymore. I was going to marry her, but she does not love me." I wasn't sure how to respond, so I tried to express my sympathy in Korean by offering up "I'm sad." Which, literally, is "I have eye-water." I don't know how to express happiness in Korean, but I can declare an absense of eye-water. Emotions are so tangible in this language!
On the topic of marriage, another student, quite attractive, went on a rant about how she would never marry a "handsome" man: "Later, he will, uh, probably find other women. So I want a husband who is not handsome, who is kind, who is gentle, who is nice. And rich." At some point she indicated a strong affinity for husky gentlemen: "When I hug... him, I want to feel warm. Like Pooh. I want husband like Pooh." There was mild confusion on my part, or at least a muffled smile. But I knew what she meant. The animated bear. This country is obsessed with Pooh.* In my kitchen, right behind my stove there's a tiling the says "FUN IN THE KITCHEN", with Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet popping their heads up to say hello.
Anyway, she went on. "I love Pooh. I watch all his movie. I think Piglet is cute. I have a beeeeg Pooh in my room... Why do you laughing?" It was at this point that it became necessary to reveal the scatological implications of the previous five minutes of conversation. Then I added that Winnie the Pooh is a pervert because he wears a shirt but no pants. They enjoyed my little joke, first told to me by this Korean who barely spoke any English, but only after they asked what "pervert" was. I explained by giving the corresponding word in Korean, the knowledge of which made me feel not unlike a pervert.
After the explanation that "Pooh" can also mean "shit," the old man in the class started referring to him as "bear Pooh": "My children like the bear Pooh." I didn't have the heart to tell him that that's even more hilarious.
*Not so much a nation of the poo-obsessed. Koreans seem to speak about feces as matter-of-factly as anyone would talk about maple syrup, falling snow, or newborn cattle. For example, perhaps my biggest epiphany of the year was realizing that Korean kindergarteners do not find it amusing when teacher farts. My first week on the job, I would slyly let it slide out. Then one day I made it audible enough for the class to hear. Crickets chirping. So then I began the kind of gedankenexperiment that would make Josef Mengele wince. I decided to make my bursts of flatulence more and more audible. What if I alter the pitch? Duration? Still nothing. Shocking! In the West, anything that could be construed as teacher farting is hy-fucking-sterical. Give yourself an arm rasperry. "Oh, teacher farted!" A chair squeak. "Oh, teacher farted!" A passing airplane, fire alarm. Etc.
I'm not sure if my students see their English lessons as cheap therapy, or if they simply don't have the ability to lie or hedge in a nonnative language. So when I ask how they're doing, by god, they tell me: "Last week, my girlfriend broke up with me. She said that she does not love me anymore. I was going to marry her, but she does not love me." I wasn't sure how to respond, so I tried to express my sympathy in Korean by offering up "I'm sad." Which, literally, is "I have eye-water." I don't know how to express happiness in Korean, but I can declare an absense of eye-water. Emotions are so tangible in this language!
On the topic of marriage, another student, quite attractive, went on a rant about how she would never marry a "handsome" man: "Later, he will, uh, probably find other women. So I want a husband who is not handsome, who is kind, who is gentle, who is nice. And rich." At some point she indicated a strong affinity for husky gentlemen: "When I hug... him, I want to feel warm. Like Pooh. I want husband like Pooh." There was mild confusion on my part, or at least a muffled smile. But I knew what she meant. The animated bear. This country is obsessed with Pooh.* In my kitchen, right behind my stove there's a tiling the says "FUN IN THE KITCHEN", with Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet popping their heads up to say hello.
Anyway, she went on. "I love Pooh. I watch all his movie. I think Piglet is cute. I have a beeeeg Pooh in my room... Why do you laughing?" It was at this point that it became necessary to reveal the scatological implications of the previous five minutes of conversation. Then I added that Winnie the Pooh is a pervert because he wears a shirt but no pants. They enjoyed my little joke, first told to me by this Korean who barely spoke any English, but only after they asked what "pervert" was. I explained by giving the corresponding word in Korean, the knowledge of which made me feel not unlike a pervert.
After the explanation that "Pooh" can also mean "shit," the old man in the class started referring to him as "bear Pooh": "My children like the bear Pooh." I didn't have the heart to tell him that that's even more hilarious.
*Not so much a nation of the poo-obsessed. Koreans seem to speak about feces as matter-of-factly as anyone would talk about maple syrup, falling snow, or newborn cattle. For example, perhaps my biggest epiphany of the year was realizing that Korean kindergarteners do not find it amusing when teacher farts. My first week on the job, I would slyly let it slide out. Then one day I made it audible enough for the class to hear. Crickets chirping. So then I began the kind of gedankenexperiment that would make Josef Mengele wince. I decided to make my bursts of flatulence more and more audible. What if I alter the pitch? Duration? Still nothing. Shocking! In the West, anything that could be construed as teacher farting is hy-fucking-sterical. Give yourself an arm rasperry. "Oh, teacher farted!" A chair squeak. "Oh, teacher farted!" A passing airplane, fire alarm. Etc.
posted by Mark Hernandef at 1:02 PM
6 Comments:
Weird spam . . .
Whence comes my notion of Oriental fecalphillia? Maybe I want it to be true so badly.
I have eye water after reading that post.
Also, anonymous: You may have better luck with Japan. Go to one of the multi-floor porno emporiums in Osaka (there should be plenty). The first couple floors will probably be pretty innocuous, but once you get up to the 7th or 8th floor you'll realize where the poo-obsessed (not Pooh-obsessed, though they seem to like him too) stereotype comes from.
Hmm. Never thought this would be a forum for first-hand tips for fecalphiliacs, but whatever floats your etc.
So an Osakan porno emporium is just like Dante's description of hell. Check.
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