Anecdote and a lot of rubbing alcohol.

Sometimes at the point in time of incident, some stories seem a little so strange to share.

However, now that there's been enough time, I thought it would be fun for all the readers out there to hear about the time I got my ears pierced in Korea.

Now, a bit of background information: ear piercing is semi-illegal in South Korea. By that I mean that the lines between it being taboo and it being illegal are somewhat ambiguous. Those who do desire to get their ears pierced are supposed to go to a doctor, so little piercing parlors like Claire's just don't exist here, because they are thought to be an unsterile environment and are therefore outlawed.

Much like the social issues of marajuana and (in some ways) abortion in the States, when something is only partially enforced, and  its accessibility is taken away, regulation and safety can go out the window.

Maybe some of you see where I'm going here.

A couple months ago, I thought it would be a grand idea to get my ears pierced with a friend one girls' weekend in Busan. Through online forums I found some potential places we could visit to get 'em pierced (because it was pretty obvious we weren't going to try to explain to a doctor what we wanted!).

We went to an underground market so common among the subway lines in Asia, and after puttering around for a while, decided that we wouldn't be able to find the piercing place without some help. It's not exactly like illegal operations are handing out business cards or posting neon signs in their windows advertizing their services.

I found a man with one ear piercing and pointed to his ear. Then I pointed to mine and asked him in broken Korean if there was a shop I could get a piercing at (which, let's be honest-- was more like me pointing and saying something like, "Where is it? Does it exist?"). Even though he was supposed to be watching his shop, he stood up and took off speedwalking, motioning for me and my friend ot come along. Suddenly we were following him at what felt like breakneck pace through crowds of Korean families (and if the little ones aren't getting underfoot, the elders are body-checking you as they walk by). After the mini-Olympics of Korean Speed Racing, we made it to a jewelry shop. Once in side, the guy asked the shop owner if she did ear piercings. She nodded and he left, gone back to his shop. This is so Korea... the man left his shop just to help us, and didn't leave our side until we were okay.

The shop was small and unfrequented, as the jewelry racks were a little dusty. And as I suspected, there was no sign advertising the piercing. Sketchy. Adventurous. So cool.

We picked out some earrings and showed her where we wanted them on our ears. Just like Claire's.
She sat us down and marked our earlobes with pen. Just like Claire's.
She let us check the placement out in a mirror. Just like Claire's.

Then she took the earring out of the package and stabbed them through our ears in one skin-popping motion.
Not like Claire's not like Claire's not like Claire's!!!

Before we really could process the event, it was over. We paid and left, and as we walked back to the subway, a million little facts began to trickle in. No piercing tools. No hand-washing. That lady had just eaten lunch. It was now crystal clear to me why people are required to go to the doctor for peircings. Otherwise, they get a grandma running the underground market to stab dusty old earring posts through their ears using her un-gloved, kimchi-coated hands.

Needless to say, we took an immediate field trip to the pharmacy and got a bottle of rubbing alcohol to douse our ears in. Over 2 months later, my ears have not fallen off, so I now felt it safe to release this story to the general public.

Moral learned: don't get piercings in underground markets. Or is it, "While traveling, always have sterilizing agents on hand"?

Either way, no more piercings in Korea for me.

The Little Mermaid and an International Fireworks Festival.

Ever since I began researching life in Korea (about a year ago), I knew I wanted to be a part of the annual International Fireworks Festival in Busan. How lucky was I that this year I got the chance to dive into the chaos of a human wall, eat chicken on the beach, and experience the best fireworks display I have ever seen at this festival.

Currently, I write this entry from the comfort of my bed, where I have been all day. I like to think of this weekend as one really long day, because I had to spend all of Sunday sleeping and eating pizza to recover.

The day started early with a bus ride out of Ulsan. The train into Busan is supposedly prettier (and less insane than the public bus) but keep in mind that there were about 2 million people filtering into Busan that day to watch the fireworks, so everything we did this weekend was kind of the long way. After our bus ride, the subway was the next stop. The fireworks show was at Gwangli Beach, but we decided to spend a portion of the afternoon in Haeundae first; this beach has a warm place in our hearts from last month when we visited there on vacation.

Hello, carnival games, Fuzzy Navel burritos, and the chilled October tide.


I'll be honest, from here on out things got a little harried. We started walking towards the beach with the assumption that we could catch a taxi at any point. Wrong. Because of all the chaos, virtually every taxi was in use. We searched for an alternate route to the festival for about 30 minutes before (luckily) catching a cab and heading towards Gwangli.

The festival itself was incredible. Here's what the Koreans have on us Westerners:

1. The organization was astounding and very well thought-out. The beach was mapped out so that an aisle of space was clear for people to enter and exit. And when the beach got too full (because it really really did), volunteers stamped our hands so we could enter and exit the beach.

By this point, the only thing keeping people from entering the beach was a human wall of police officers. I have never stood behind a human chain of government officials, let alone been allowed to pass through a wall of them! It felt pretty amazing.


2. Nobody left trash on the beach. And for 2-3 million people, that's miraculous. Could it have been the trash bags they gave us for free to use? I think so. But all things considered, this feat is pretty unheard of. Maybe the US government should start spending public funds on trash bags and less on the oil-using machines it takes to clean up loose garbage.

Oh wait. This is not a political blog. My bad.

3. Instead of selling french fries or cotton candy, vendors sold kim bap, rice cakes, and brightly-colored fuzzy blankets. Again, it's always healthier to be in Korea.

4. There are no open-container laws in Korea. Just sayin'.


5. Lastly, the fireworks themselves. There's not really too much to say; I don't know if any words I use could possibly describe the beauty of this show. Because this was an international display, the music timed with the show was from around the world. In the 50 minute display, there was a section of 3-4 songs from the US. By far, this one got us the most excited:



Singing 'Under the Sea' in a crowd of Koreans was almost too much fun... especially when I realized just how few of us there actually were who could sing along.

It's interesting to identify so wholly with something, like a song, and feel like nobody relates. The Little Mermaid is a defining part of my childhood (uh... Halloween costume circa 1992!), and I was in such a daze of ecstasy that I was shocked to see strangers staring curiously at me. I may be over-simplifying, but it's a prime example of how I see my life: your home is inside of you. It's unique to you. And you can be in a crowd of strangers and still be at home. But you may never understand what home is to someone else, and just how much it means to them. Even if they're 8 inches away, screaming in your ear.


I won't go into too much detail about the rest of our night, because it involved staying out until the sun rose, sleeping in a doorway, and getting soaked to the bone. I just try to remember that anything can happen here, and it usually does.

What great stories you can have when you take the opportunity to make them.