Gunpla: Reborns is Reborn

One of the reasons I started this blog was so I could post pictures of my Gundam models, yet it's been almost a year since I made my first post on "Mercenary Teacher" and in that time I've hardly shared any of my work. Unacceptable!

A little while ago I tasked myself with updating my 1/144 HG Reborns Gundam. I initially completed Reborns back in 2013, but I did so without any of the little touch-ups that can make a Gunpla really pop. It was recently I decided Reborns deserves a make-over, so I pulled it down off the shelf for what I expected to be a quick job.

That was over two months ago.

Whether it's because I'm ridiculously obsessed with making perfectly straight lines or because my techniques are woefully inefficient, finishing Reborns took me a lot longer than I thought it would. Still, the results speak for themselves, and though I'll be the first to admit it's far from perfect, I'm very pleased with how Reborns turned out.

The photos in this post give a rough idea of the work required for breathing new life into Reborns. First, you can see how it looked when built straight out of the box, with absolutely zero additional work done. Next comes disassembly, so I could tinker with each piece individually. Some parts needed paint to look their best, and for those I used tiny brushes and hobby paint mixed with thinner. Other parts just needed a little ink to make their lines stand out, and in those cases I used a very fine tip black pen. Painting Reborns is by far the biggest reason this project took such a long time. When I was finally satisfied enough to move onto the next step, I took all of the painted pieces and stuck each to a wooden skewer using a dab of putty, then arranged them inside a styrofoam box. I waited a few days for the paint to cure before taking my Gundam outside so I could spray it down with flat matt topcoat, to seal the paint and remove the cheap plastic shine of the model. I reassembled the model once the topcoat had dried, stuck it on a display base, and waited for a clear sunny day to take some good-looking photos.

Even though there were times when working on Reborns I felt like my hobby was becoming more of a chore than a pleasurable past-time, the final product makes everything worthwhile. I'll have to wait until next month before I start a new project, however: I'm going to Japan for winter vacation in a few days, and I need to focus on planning for that!

You can be sure when I return it will be with several new kits in tow.

Workshops: Korean for Party Time

In South Korea, workshops are an important part of workplace culture. "Workshops" are exactly what they sound like: a chance for a company's employees to travel together to some far off corner of Korea so they can sight-see, eat expensive food and drink themselves silly, all on the company's dime.

If you're now thinking, "That's exactly what a workshop doesn't sound like!" then don't worry, you're not alone.

I've gone to a few workshops during my stay here in Korea, and they're always a good time. I don't fully understand why these outings are called workshops and not "company retreats" in the first place, but you won't hear me complain. Any excuse to loosen my tie and have a little fun with the people I see more than my own family is fine by me.

"Loosen your tie? Have fun? You can't do that with your boss, think of the consequences!" In Korea, consequences are more likely to materialize if you don't loosen your tie, so for your sake I hope 1.) you're a strong drinker, and 2.) you like soju, because there's a high probability the boss likes soju and that's what he's going to be ordering for everybody (I personally don't like the stuff, it gives me a splitting headache every time I touch it, but fortunately I've gotten pretty skilled at swapping out the contents of my shot glass for water when no one is watching).

For this particular outing, we all piled into a chartered bus and drove three hours to the eastern sea, where our reserved pension awaited. I slept most of the way there; when I awoke it was dark, there was an ocean, and I had no idea where we were other than somewhere on the east coast of Korea. Later I would learn we had driven to the harbor city of Donghae, located in Gangwan province. From what I could tell of my short time in Donghae it was a pleasant little place, full of the things you would expect from a port town: boats, a lighthouse, fish, more fish, still more fish, so on and so forth.

Dinner was of course fish. I'm not a huge fan of seafood to begin with, but I've been having stomach issues recently so for my sake I avoided eating the more foreign-looking dishes. Meanwhile the soju was pouring freely, and while I was enjoying my harmless shots of water and pretending to be inebriated it was amusing to observe my coworkers get a little crazy. Noraebang followed (what the Koreans call karaoke) and the less said of that the better (though I did belt out a fantastic rendition of "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen). By this point I was reaching for the flask of rum I had tucked away in my jacket pocket, because I didn't want to be the only person in our group not acting like a goof.

When the sun rose, so did only some of the teachers. That includes me, because I had the foresight to stay away from the soju. Pretty pleased with myself for that move. The rest of the day was spent sight-seeing and eating: we hiked up to Mukho Lighthouse to take in the view; we drove to a fish market, where I saw fish so bizarre I could scarcely believe they were considered edible; we stopped by Chotdae Rock, which means candlestick in Korean, named so because of the natural shape of the rock; and for lunch we had beef. Glorious, wonderful beef.

When we finally got home I was dog tired. It was a fun workshop, mainly because I like this group of coworkers. There's a possibility I may not continue at this school next year, so I'm grateful we could make some memories this weekend.

The Benefits of Being Prepared

"Wait a second," you're probably thinking. "There was already a blog post about snow in the countryside!" Yes, but these photos are different! "No they're not! They look exactly the same!" Really, they are! Look closely.
I don't mean to repeat myself with these entries, but yesterday there was a pretty decent snowstorm here where I live, and I couldn't resist taking more pictures of some of my favorite locations. Even if the photo compositions are identical, I feel the lighting and weather conditions are different enough to create a brand new subject!
Not surprisingly, my hard drive is full of photos of the same spots. Over the course of a year, it's been fun to document how the rotating seasons and different times of day can change the way familiar places look and feel. At some point, I want to collect all of my favorite photos of said locations and put them all into one blog post, so we can see just how dramatic those changes are.

Anyway... So there was a snowstorm yesterday. Big, fat wet heavy flakes. I was going home late in the evening by bus, and while keeping an eye out for my stop I was having trouble recognizing where I was, due to everything outside the bus window being a blur of white. When the bus stopped around the time I would usually be getting off, I took another peak outside and had no clue where I was. I asked the bus driver if this was my stop, and he said yup, and I looked again and I asked again and he still said yup. So I got off.
There were other passengers who had disembarked and were walking toward what looked like a town in the distance, and since I was still unsure as to where I was I just followed them. From what I could gather, the winding narrow road to my usual bus stop was probably too treacherous for the driver due to the weather, and he instead opted to dump us off on the side of the freeway. The walk was beautiful, despite the cold and my inappropriate footwear (thin high-tops). There was no moon out, but the reflection from the street lamps off the fresh snow made everything glow. Eventually I did get home, albeit with numb toes.
The next morning I headed to work wearing my steel-toed boots, as I didn't want my poor feet to freeze again. However, after one step outside I immediately turned back: the wet snow had frozen over night, and the road leading down to my school was a literal slippery slope of ice and death (maybe not death). I needed equipment if I was to survive the walk without bruising my bottom, so I went rummaging for my shoe spikes (leftovers from a mountain hiking trip I took a few years back).
Some people might consider it overkill, lacing up heavy boots and strapping on ice spikes for a 10 minute walk. But as I descended down the hill at a comfortable pace, bottom un-bruised, I couldn't help but feel a tiny bit smug whenever I noticed a high school student in sneakers struggling behind me to safely shuffle across the icy roads.

Wawoo Jeongsa: Thailand in Korea

2014 is almost over, but before it ends I want to share photos from a few of the adventures I went on this past year that I never got around to uploading.

Back in October, I took a bike ride to nearby Wawoo Temple (just try saying that name without giggling). I had heard of Wawoo (pffft hahaha) from one of my coworkers, who recommended I check it out. Doing a Google search for Wawoo (no stop I can't take it anymore) returned sparse results in English, which lead me to falsely believe that the temple was small and wouldn't have much to see. Nevertheless, I thought the journey would be a pleasant excursion, so I hopped on my bike one fine Saturday morning and went on my way.

First mistake: The excursion was not pleasant. After passing through a few kilometers of farms and fields, I started ascending. Stubbornly I pushed up, until I got too winded to continue and I realized that the ascent was only getting steeper. It dawned on me then that of course I would have to bike up a mountain, nearly all Buddhist temples are built on the tops of mountains so as to be closer to Buddha. Feeling pretty stupid for forgetting this fact, as well as pretty darn tired from heaving myself up a mountain on two wheels, I reluctantly began to walk my bike the rest of the way up. Eventually I reached the summit, and since Wawoo Temple was still a bit further ahead I got on my bike and trusted in gravity take me the rest of the way. Although a thrill to be tearing down the mountain at the same speed as traffic, in the back of my mind I knew that it was going to be a pain later trying to get back up.

Second mistake: Wawoo Temple is not small, not in the least bit. Furthermore, of all the temples I've visited in Korea, Wawoo is the most atypical by far. While many of the Buddhist temples I've explored are fairly standard in their layout and construction, Wawoo struck me as a gallery of sorts, a hodgepodge collection of religious artifacts strewn across the temple grounds. Later, a friend told me that Wawoo is famous for that very reason: the head monk travels around the world, acquiring Buddhist icons and setting them up on display at his temple. Wawoo even has a partnership with Thailand, since the temple's biggest attraction (literally and figuratively) was brought from there. It's the first thing you notice when coming in through the front entrance: a massive Buddha head sitting by the pond next to the parking lot. Truthfully, it's almost surreal in it's presentation, and the initial shock upon seeing it is in of itself a good reason to visit Wawoo. From there, I spent a few hours wandering around, checking out everything Wawoo had to offer before getting on my bike and heading back home.

Knowing that I'd have to ascend once more before I could reach the other side of the mountain, I began lugging my bike up along side the road. Another biker passed me, a middle aged Korean man in full biking gear (his neon tights put my jeans and t-shirt to shame) and he stopped to chat for a bit: he spoke Korean, and I nodded my head. When he was ready to go, he hopped back on his bike and motioned for me to follow. I let him go and resumed pushing, when suddenly he turned around, saw what I was doing, and chided me until I got on my bike and followed him proper.  Muttering under my breath that this old guy was going to kill me, I did my best to keep up, and to my surprise I didn't embarrass myself (somehow). In truth, having a biking partner gave me the motivation I needed to do what I thought I couldn't. We quickly reached the summit, where he continued along a different, more advanced route. I said goodbye, and gleefully rolled down the mountain, letting the momentum carry me all the way to my house.

Winter in the Countryside

Just last week, the weather outside was a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit here in sunny Korea. This previous Sunday, the last day of November, I went out wearing only a light leather jacket and sweater and had no trouble staying warm.
Then the sun set, and when it rose the following morning it was the first of December, and without warning the weather dropped to 19 degrees and a blizzard blew in and covered everything in white. If nothing else, it can be said that this year's winter was exceptionally punctual.

I love all of the seasons; each has its own set of endearing qualities. What I don't like is that dead period between the end of fall and the first snow of winter, when everything is dark and brown and muddy and simply looking outside is enough to make one feel gloomy and despondent, as is the case for me. However, once the snow begins to fall and everything is made clean and fresh, I feel my spirits perk up.
Winter in the countryside is especially beautiful, and I allowed myself to be a little late to work this morning so that I could take my time getting some nice photos.