Gender-bending

Day 34 - Sunday 27 March 2011

So apparently, Korea thinks I'm gay… Actually to be a little more specific, not necessarily gay (although those words have been used) but rather feminine. There have been enough random conversations where my feminineness has been brought up, that I think it is an appropriate time for gender-bending and homosexuality to get it's own post.

I really hate it that I always have to start every article with the same old damn disclaimers, but it really does seem necessary. People are always too ready to pounce on my thoughts. I don't think I'm God, and people should know everything I type are my own opinions and perspectives based on the interactions I have had in Korea. I realize, under some crazy low-probability coincidence, maybe the Koreans I hang out with are the only Koreans in the entire planet that think I'm gay. I'm not here to say what's right and what's wrong (although for the record, I am completely cool with anybody's varying sexual orientation), but rather just to spew out my mind and all the strange observations I've made during my journey.

It's interesting to hear the reasoning my Korean acquaintances (who are all married, full-grown adults) give concerning why they question my sexuality. And what's even more interesting is that a lot of what they say has some insight into Korean society and culture.

To start with, there's the obvious (yet ironic) issue of my physical appearance. I tend to have long hair, Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai and Ahn Junghwan being my main inspirations. I also have slightly gauged metal loop earrings, and I keep my face always shaved and smooth like a baby's bottom. I have come to terms with my appearance, and both Americans and Koreans have mistaken me for a girl before, from behind or the side. If I really cared, I could go back to a standard Carson Daly crew cut, remove my earrings, and grow a burley beard, but I choose not to. In addition to my face/head, my clothing style has been pointed out to be a source of my femininity. I dress fairly plainly. Nice, solid pair of jeans, nothing too fancy or expensive, a t-shirt with some cheesy picture or joke, and a soccer team hoodie or track jacket. According to a lot of the adult Koreans I talk to, this makes me look feminine and like a middle schooler. They say I should dress more stylish. Now I'm not here to judge Korean fashion but it's funny and ironic to me that dressing more like these guys (see pictures above) would make me look more heterosexual.

To each his own. So if this is Korea's ideal heterosexual, no questions needed, male, then so be it. I guess if dressing like a hybrid of a dude from a Wrangler's/Marlboro commercial and professional soccer player makes me feminine, then I'm staying feminine for the standards here. I'm sorry Korea, but I can't do skinny jeans, multi-layered tops, shoes without thick soles, and male-specific makeup. Nor can I cross my legs while sitting down. I should also note, that even seeing a bunch a dudes walking around wearing clothing like I just described, or looking like the dudes from Big Bang (pictured above), I have never made fun of the sexuality of any Koreans here, but they've let me know how they feel about me.

So the second reason is a more important topic to me. They say I must be a girl at heart because I communicate well with people, especially women. They say they've never met a person who listens to them as much as I do, and openly shares my thoughts in return. It's all true, that is how I am, but so where all the dudes I went to college with. We always had deep heart-to-heart, what is life, cigarette smoking breaks in between our studies. This really made me think about the family unit here in Korea. I haven't met every single married couple in Korea, but from what I've witnessed, the family unit is dead here (as compared to my American experiences). The dad's are never home. They work 8am to past midnight, 6 days a week. When they are home, they rarely are involved with any of the family activities, and never have any discussions besides family logistics, like bills and who needs the car. I also here the stories of the families that send the mother and children abroad to study, while the husband remains in Korea to work.

My working situation through the program I came to Korea through, gives me a lot of free time, and with that time I obviously have the upper hand on these working dads. They are doing the noble thing, working, earning money and providing for their family. I have nothing bad to say about them, but it has put me in a strange situation that my availability to be around, talk, go grocery shopping with all these mom's is something they've never experienced. Because I'm not a reserved, workaholic male, they say I must be gay. I can't say it enough, this phenomenon is nuts to me. I have been told numerous times by Koreans here, that I would make one awesome husband, and all I did was talk to them. And once again, because the ability to have conversations with an adult male was something they hadn't experienced in a long time, I must have a girl's personality deep at heart. There's no way an attentive, caring adult male exists anymore (their words, not mine).

I'm definitely more appreciative of the 9am-5pm work/school schedule in America. Compared to Korea, my family has nothing to complain about. I wish I could build on this more, but it's late and I want to sleep. There was a whole other part I was going to write about regarding my athletic ability, exerting myself on the football and soccer field, and yet that didn't gain me any heterosexual points among my Korean peers. Oh the cultural differences…so much left to learn!

Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese & Koreans

Wednesday - 23 March 2011

Day 30

I was sitting in the Holt Post-Adoption Center's waiting room this afternoon waiting for my bosses to finish up some work before we headed to the Holt Homecoming Program Welcoming (for some)/Going Away (for others) Party. There was a decent sized array of adoption books and magazines pilled under the coffee table and I decided to browse through some of it. I came across a compilation of pieces written by the first big wave of Korean Adoptees to America. It was published in 1990 out of the Twin Cities. There was one poem in particular that caught my eye and gave me something to think about the rest of the day.

The poem was about the terribleness and agony brought about from people calling Korean adoptees Chinese, Japanese, or Taiwanese. This is a fairly common topic. I hear it all the time and I've even seen it written on shirts. It's also something not only adoptees face, but also Korean Americans.

I understand how annoying it can be to be mistaken for the different flavors of East Asian, but to put things bluntly, I think we can all stop crying about it. Insert World's Smallest Violin cliché. Of all the forms of discrimination and racism we face, I really don't think this is bad. Here's a couple talking points of my reasoning:

First of all, by being offended by being mistaken for Chinese, Japanese, or Taiwanese, it seems like we're implying those are lower ethnicities/nationalities than Korean. People call me Japanese all the time, but after being exposed to Japan's rich culture through Japanese-Hawaiians, I take it as a compliment. Nor would I mind being called Chinese or Taiwanese.

Second, lets face it, we look similar to a certain extent. There are similarities between the big 4 East Asian peoples, but we also do have our differences. To the untrained eye, and even sometimes the trained eye, it's hard to correctly identify all Asian people to their country of origin. Throughout my years in college, I was deeply exposed to a diverse international soccer (football, futebol, calcio) crowd. I mistook Austrians for Germans, Paraguayans for Uruguayans, Puerto Ricans for Mexicans, Brasilians for Portuguese, Tanzanians for Nigerians, etc etc etc and all the vice versa's. In all those meetings and getting to know one another, not one of them cared once. They didn't explode on me because I incorrectly identified their accent, or clothing style. It was a common mistake, they knew I was asking out of curiosity and interest in their hometown, culture, and what teams they supported. They corrected me, we chatted, and moved on with life.

If some uber-racist American is approaching you in a belligerent manner or making stereo-typical assumptions, and wants to hate you for being Japanese, Korean, Chinese, or Taiwanese…or simply hate you regardless of which of the 4 you are, then that’s a crappy situation. That's a bad dude, and he can rot in Hell. But for all the people simply acting out of curiosity and genuine interest in learning more to improve their ignorance about another culture, it's time not be so sensitive. Grow up adoptee community!

I can recall a perfect example of when being overly-sensitive to this sort of situation went bad. I was with a group of adoptees, leaving a grocery store and heading to a Taco Bell across the large parking lot. We were in a primarily white town, and probably 95% of the people shopping and wandering the streets were all white. A man leaving the store, who looked like a hippie version of George Lucas, was walking beside us and asked if we were Chinese. One of the adoptees (I should note, a 19 yr old male adult) exploded at this dude. "WHY DO YOU THINK WE'RE CHINESE…YOU'RE A RACIST…BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!" I told my acquaintance, who I'll just nickname Frank for now, to calm down but he was too upset with this guy. The irony is Frank was making the scene, not the stranger. I told Frank to take a walk and I calmly started apologizing to this guy. The guy was chill and we started talking. He was white, but his wife was Chinese-American, who he had bi-racial babies with, and because of his mixed family, he was very involved with the small Chinese Christian Community in the Eugene-Portland area. He had recently went on a mission trip to China and had the experience of his life. Obviously this connection to Chinese culture, and the fact that he rarely saw Asians in the area, prompted him to as if we were Chinese. Kudos to him. Good guy. This was such a Dave Chappelle "When keeping it real goes wrong" situation.

I'm not the Martin Luther King Jr. of adoptees, but I think I have a fair grasp on what is reasonable to get upset over. I really don't like people who are so sensitive to adoption/racial issues, that their attitude backfires and they are the ones trying to conjure up a racist situation out of a non-racist one.

So to that poem, I say, you're crying over spilt milk. Yes it is slightly annoying that people think we're Chinese, but I doubt you can tell me if a white American is German, English, Irish, Danish, Dutch, etc. People are going to continue to mistake us, but the good people out there just want to learn, so educate them.

My Host-Family's Ties to Adoption

Day 13 - Sunday 06 March 2011

Today I learned my host-family's connection with adoption. Considering the statistics, that over 100,000 children have been adopted in the last ~50 years from Korea, making up 10% of the Korean-American population, it was no surprise to me to find that the people I would meet here had some sort of ties to adoption. And of course there was also the fact that my host-family volunteers their household for Holt's post-adoption services. The real surprise was that they were willing to share and talk about their stories.

My host-mom grew up in fairly hard times (wikipedia Korean's post-war history), and her mother rented out one of the rooms in their house/apt. My host-mom was only a teenager at the time, when one particular guest rented their empty room. It was a young Korean woman in her late teens who had relations with an African-American military man. She had 2 babies, and abandoned them and went back to America, without a look back. I could care less what this guy's race was, but I note the color of his skin to point out the fact that back in the day (and perhaps today) half Koreans-half blacks had a very hard time growing up in Korean society. So the mother was too young and poor to take care of the children on her own. She soon abandoned them as well and my host-mom's mom (host-granny) took care of them for a while, until an adoption agency stepped in and found a family for them in America. Witnessing these sad events left my host-mom with a lot to digest and think about. She had mixed feelings about American soldiers, the adoption process, the young Korean birth mothers, etc. But regardless of how she felt, it left her connected and curious to learn more about adoption.

The second story, came from the mother of one of my students for my private tutoring. For fun, and in a relaxed fashion of exposing kids to English, every Friday afternoon I get to teach/hangout with host-bro and 4 of his school friends, while all the moms eat food, drink and talk. They are all family friends of one another. One of the moms told me that her parents also had a hard time while she was young. She was one of many children, and her mom actually took her to an orphanage to drop her off 5 times, but in the end couldn't go through with it. So she was never adopted, but knows the story about how she could have been. She talked about how she understood her family's situation and isn't for or against adoption. If it would have happened to her, then that would be that, and she would make the most of her life. The point that she wanted to stress to me was that adoption was definitely an option hidden in the back of every Korean parent's mind. It was hard times and everybody knew how and where they could relinquish a child. Anybody who plays ignorant to the fact that all this was going on behind the scenes, without being talked about publicly, is a liar.

I think adoption in the 60s-90s in Korea, must have been like the Jersey Shore television show in present day America. Everybody knows about it and heard the premise, but they aren't exactly happy that it's taking place, especially in their own country. The ever-present secret shame of a nation.

You won't hear too many Koreans (or anybody from any country for that matter) openly talking about adoption-related things that might bring shame or embarrassment to their family, but I'm glad these people were willing to share. Even though Korea and Koreans seem to not talk about this sensitive subject (perhaps like Germans and the Holocaust) everybody knows it happened and was a huge part of Korean life and society. I bet, in some 6-degrees-to-Kevin Bacon-way, everybody has a connection to adoption/relinquishment in this country. You can't relinquish that many babies and have no ties whatsoever.

Clothing Prices

Day 16

I met up with an old college friend today. Second Korean-native friend that I met in the US that I have had the opportunity to reconnect with here. At first it seems strange, to be meeting in their turf, yet once I'm with old friends, I completely forget about where I am, proving once again people are much more important than environment. I could have fun with friends out in the deserts of New Mexico.

We went shopping at all the big name stores, and I've come to realize that I'm incapable of buying anything here in Seoul. I have the money to, but just can't do it. Everything here is ridiculously overpriced, which is weird to me, because it's all made in some part of Asia. Before I came here, I expected everything to be significantly cheaper. I went to the Nike store, and I was at first very happy that they had a huge soccer selection. But upon looking at the price tags, my mood dropped. The N98 World Cup track jacket line (which were all worn at the 2010 WC) goes for about $50 - $70 per jacket in America. Here they're about 125,000 - 175,000 Korean won, which is roughly $112 - $167. Not worth it. I'll save all my money and just go on a shopping spree once I get back home. Strangely, the only item that seems relatively the same in price here and in the States, is soccer cleats. I've been drooling over the CTR360 II's for a couple months now.

There is however, very cheap rip-off brand clothing. We went to a couple of the more shady stores and you can find a lot of hilarious clothing. There was some Calvin Homme, Fitch (yep, just Fitch), and a crap-ton of Victoria's Secret Pink styled sweat pants and sweatshirts. But in the end, I went home empty handed. There conversations and reminiscing about old college days was more than enough for me.

Birth Search II

Day 16 - 12:25pm

With all the birth search happenings that have been taking place in my life recently, I have started to once again think in the method of the great John Raible, think about why we think the way we think. I have remained pretty calm and careless about this whole birth search ordeal and am still in that state as I type this. Yet, through emails, readings of my blog, and conversations in person, many of my family and friends have talked about how it must be a huge emotional event of my life. I couldn't feel any more oppositely. I acknowledge that finding one's birth parents in itself is a huge occasion, but that doesn't mean my emotions must reflect this, especially in sadness and negativity. So here's a look into the mind and heart of Chris Gray.

Disclaimer: There are my opinions and my thought processes. For some reason people just love to argue with me. Stop reading so deeply and drawing wrong conclusions from my words. I don't think anything I say or do or feel is the right way to live. It's my way. I'm smart and mature enough to have seen and understand the full spectrum of how people feel, treat, and deal with adoption, especially adoptees themselves. So if you find yourself feeling nowhere remotely close to the way I do, cheers to you. It's A-Okay.

I have never had loyalty, respect, or care for my birth family. This doesn't mean I actively hated them, but rather they were out of sight, out of mind. I just didn't think about them ever or factor them into my life. For anybody who can't comprehend that idea, believing that birth parents are way to important to forget about, I have this analogy. How many people think about the factor workers who made their car? How many people think about the tree that was cut down to make their house and paper. And of course, how many people think about the cow that died so they could enjoy the burger sitting on the table in front of them? Our society has dismissed and forgot about the makers and origins of almost everything else that we use in our lives. It wasn't to hard for me to not care about the womb I came from. Everybody tells me, "But Chris, they gave you life…" And that just doesn't mean anything to me. I appreciate that I'm alive, but nothing more. I'm not bitter. I'm at peace. It is what it is.

I have measured my life in the relationships and experiences that I have shared with people. So of course, the people who have been with me for the last 24 years mean a lot more than the ones who were with me for 1 day (+9 months if you want to get technical). If in some bizarre Holocaust movie situation, Nazis were holding guns to both my birth family and adoptive family, telling me I must choose which one will live and which one will die; I would choose my adoptive family in a heartbeat (to live of course). Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy, no remorse. Obviously, I hope nobody dies, so that's probably too extreme of an example, but I just want to express how strong my loyalty and connection with my adoptive family is. Maybe it could be the cliché scene where I'm holding each family in one arm at the edge of the cliff. I have to let go of one so I can use both arms for the other. Otherwise, we all die.

I feel that too often in movies and the rest of the media, there always seems to be this unnecessary loyalty to the birth family. Take the Zorro reboot with Antonio Banderas for example. Catherine Zeta Jones is kidnapped as a child and raised by the enemy. 20+ years later she returns to the Californian territories and in a split second, develops complete loyalty to her birth father. I don’t think 20+ years of being raised by a completely different person could be so easily erased. The media loves to romanticize birth family reunions. It's not like that in reality. Of all movies, I'd have to say I was very happy with the adoption/family message presented in Meet Joe Dirt. David Spade spent his whole life thinking about his birth family and finally decides to go on a pilgrimage to find them. But at the end he realizes his true family were the friends that were with him during his journey to find his birth family. They were the ones that were with him and cared about him the whole time.

Before I even came to Korea, I never had any intention of starting a birth search. I didn't care that much, but I wasn't opposed. Statemate, standstill, just like most of my other feelings. But when Holt decided to offer me their services, I wasn't going to refuse. I go with the flow. A young happy-go-lucky man, seeing where the world takes him. I factored my birth family out of my life long ago, so anything that may come, is only a bonus. "Ooo! Piece of candy!" "Ooo! Piece of candy!"

So now for the new news. The Korean Police Department contacted me via Holt and my birth mother is alive. They've located her and Holt will be sending her a letter if I want them to. I agreed and we'll see what comes of it. But I still have yet to have any emotional response to any of this. It just isn't that big of a priority of my life.

In conclusion, I just want to share the less caring, happy, positive, make the most with what you have, view of adoption. I've seen so many adoptees painfully stress and worry over the futility in trying a birth search, that they miss out on developing relationships with the people you have in your life. I recommend, not missing out on life, cause you're too busy searching for some fantasy life that could have been in Korea. Life is what it is…and what we make of it. Insert more cliché statements here.

Unexpected File Review

"They are the gatekeepers. They are guarding all the doors, they are holding all the keys." ~Morpheus

Day 11

Life is very unpredictable.

Today I had my official file review with my assigned case/social worker at Holt Korea. For those who don't know all this pretty basic adoptee-lingo, a file review is a meeting in which one gets access to their adoption papers. My parents have a copy of my Holt USA (English) papers since I was adopted at 4 months old. What information we did have was openly shared with me all my life. But sometimes the US copies are not as complete as the Korean copies. Some information is left out, toned down, or lost in translation in the US copies. If the adoption agency has any identification information on members of a birth family, like names, addresses or social security, it would be in the Korean copy only.

So anyways, I'm doing my usually routine in the early afternoon. About to teach at an afterschool program, so I decide to swing by the Holt office to pick up some workbook materials. They have a huge box of English kids books and teaching resources. While I'm sitting there browsing books, my social worker yells from across the room, hey Chris, I happened to have your file sitting on my desk, want your file review? Of course I said yes. The crazy thing about this whole situation, is that for my whole life I figured my adoption file in Korea would be hidden underground in a huge metal Italian Job, Ocean's Eleven vault. And to get that information, I would either have to James Bond it, or jump over some crocodiles on ropes, Pitfall style. But in reality it went down in an almost too casual of manner. "Oh hey Chris, I happened to have this file, that you've been waiting to see your whole life, which contains the most precious information that you could ever want, sitting in an old shoebox under my desk."

I have always known, that I was born in a farming community on the outskirts of Masan to an old Korean widow, who most likely thought she was too old to even biologically get preggo in the eggo, let alone take care of another child. I knew I had 5 older half-siblings as well. Today I learned the same story, but with a little more detail. My birth mother was born in 1939. I was born in 1986. Do the math, cause I lost the piece of paper where I calculated it all out. I also learned my 5 older half-siblings are all girls. Crazy… I'm a little glad I didn't grow up in that family. Coincidentally, I am also reading Bertha & Harry Holt's Seed from the East, in which I learned the Holt family had 5 girls and 1 boy. The oldest sister is 45 years old, almost old enough to be my mother.

After I was told all this information, the social worker wrapped up by telling me she had all the official names of my family members, which they openly gave to the adoption agency at the time of my birth, and their social security numbers. Apparently, as was explained to me, a Korean social security number has more super powers than an American one does. You can learn a lot more about a person with it, and it wouldn't be too hard to track them down. So she asked plain and simply, if you want us to run these names and numbers through the Korean Police Department, we will. I said yes. I have yet to even begin to think about the crazy stuff like meeting them, or establishing contact, but this seems like a good buffer start. They are going to gather reconnaissance about them, find out if they are still alive, and where they live, but not yet approach them.

Things happen when you never expect them to.

So a bit of advice to all my adoptee brothers and sisters, if you were adopted through Holt, and want to start a birth search. Come to Korea. It's a pretty basic, simple process.

The Routine

Day 12 - 3:25pm

It's been 2 days since I last posted, sorry about the wait. I've been busy and lazy when I'm not busy. There are a couple things to report. Life is beginning to settle into a nice groove. Here's the daily routine:

6:00am wake up, lie in bed and stare at the ceiling

6:15am traditional Korean yoga (I still need to ask what it's official name is)

7:00am Gchat and Skype with American family and friends (who are settling in for the afternoon)

10:00am jog along the Han River

12:00pm eat lunch

12:15pm prepare lesson for teaching

3:00pm teach

5:15pm return home

5:30pm play computer games and guitar with host-bro

6:00pm dinner

After dinner the random adventures begin.

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Teaching last Thursday (Day 2) was quite the reversal of the previous day. This time the younger group of early elementary kids were very good students, although I did find out they lied to me and can read and write the alphabet. The older groups of kids were the bad ones. They were in a "too cool for school" mode, pouting and whinging about everything. They refused to play Hangman as vocabulary review. Who doesn't like Hangman? I talked to the social workers in charge, and they said to not let it bother me too much. The kids have a lot of problems going on at home, and if they don't feel like learning English afterschool, it's best not to push. I am in the habit of always having to have successful lessons, so it is hard to accept my orders. Do the best I can giving the lecture, but don't try to hard to make them learn. So if a student starts to sleep, like 3 of them did, I have to just let them be. I will continue to try to make class as entertaining and education as possible, but I must harden my soul and accept there won't be Dangerous Minds or Sister Act II breakthroughs everyday.

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I've gotten frostbite for the first time in my life. It's really strange. I have survived Kansas and Illinois winters for the last couple years without any complaint, but 2 hours jogging along the Han and the back of my thighs are dead. Very red and purple. Hopefully it will go away in a couple days.

Teaching & Toilets

Day 9 - 8am

Yesterday afternoon was my first day of teaching. I had no idea what to expect, and was pretty nervous after meeting the kids last week who bluntly told me how much they hate learning English. But I was up for the challenge and consider myself a somewhat flexible person. 5 years of coaching peewee soccer helped out a lot.

One thing to note is that this is all volunteer work for Holt Children's Services in Korea. It isn't a fancy hagwon (private tutoring center), but rather a government paid, volunteer ran latchkey program held at a local church (which I will still refer to as a school). Most of the kids are from low-income families and their parents work all day long.

I divided the kids into 2 groups. 4-8 yr olds and 9-11 year olds. The first group had 9 kids total and they were out of control. They pretty much disregard all of the volunteer parents and social workers. Sometimes they just get up and wander off. But since the other adults don't care, I don't either. I also found out, after being told the contrary, that they did not know how to read or write the alphabet. This makes the whole teaching process much harder. I'll have to start from square 1. I had to speak in Korea for the whole hour just to communicate to them. I have no idea what I would have done if I didn't know how to speak.

The second group of kids were much better. There were 5 of them, and they were much more attentive and respectful. They understood the activities and games and really enjoyed their time with me. This class will be a piece o' cake. At the end of the lesson, I got the 101 questions about my personal life from the female students. "Do you live alone?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" "When was your last girlfriend?" etc etc etc. It was pretty amusing.

I go back to that same school this afternoon for round 2. Hopefully I can come up with something to keep those youngin's under control.

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(Warning: This is about Poop)

Korea is a haven for any Chris-Gray's and other intestine-ally/bladder-ally challenged people. For those who don't know me that well, or haven't experienced travelling with me, I have a very sensitive stomach, which heightens when I travel. I always have to pee and get stomach aches all the time, resulting in a desperate need to or incapability of going number 2. I am usually the burden of the group. I get even more nervous when I know I'm not going to be near a toilet, which then results in needing to pee even more. Long car rides are awful, and middle/window seats on airplanes are suicide, because I'm also self-conscious about how many times I ask the aisle seat person to get up for me.

But Korea is a toilet Utopia. There are nice clean public restrooms everywhere, and they aren't for customers only (that's right Chicago and NYC). When I wander the big American cities, and actually find a restroom that doesn't require the purchase of a $5 coffee to use, there are always other problems. No toilet paper, the lock hinge is broken, or sometimes the main door doesn't even close. Then of course the toilet itself is disgusting.

I also have to say, the toilet seats here are amazing. My host family has a massive electronic toilet seat. It keep the seat warm at all times, and has a built in bidet. I definitely want to buy one when I return home.

Restrooms. For something we all use. And we all use everyday, I don't understand why we don't take a little more pride in the facilities available. Thank you Korea, the US could learn a lot from you.

Host-Bro

Day 8 - 9:00pm

Today I made a lot of progress befriending the son of my host family, who from now on will be known as host-bro. He seems naturally shy to non-Korean speakers, something I easily noticed on my own and was supported by the stories of previous guests. I've come to realize he is the perfect speaking partner. His English level and my Korean level are about the same. We both speak at the same pace, use basic words and for the most part can communicate with each other without any stress or pressure.

My host-mom always tended to house females, and if there were males, typically they were part of programs that had shorter durations. So as the real first long-stay applicant, she agreed to take me through Holt and was thinking about having an older brother figure around for host-bro. So I've done the things an older brother would do. Host-bro just discovered old syndicated episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos that air on Korean television. Seeing how much he laughed at stupid stunts and bloopers, I decided to show him what Jackass was (none of the disgusting stuff, just them riding grocery carts into brick walls and pranks of that nature). It was the greatest thing he'd ever seen. I also downloaded him some old games that I used to play when I was his age: Dino Park Tycoon, Rollercoaster Tycoon, and Theme Hospital. He loves them. It's really easy to impress somebody who's had limited exposure to American stuff.