By Max O'Neal
Contributing Writer
In wintertime on my way home, when I wear my leather jacket, gloves and a beanie, I always get mistaken for a tough Russian sailor.
Living the ex-pat life, you develop very strong friendships. They're much deeper than those with normal everyday acquaintances because you're all in it together. Everybody looks after each other simply because you don't have the same on-hand network that you do in your native country.
Coming from Canada, that's actually a blessing. Everybody is quick to help out a friend in need, and equally quick to tell you when you're messing up. It reflects badly on the community, but more importantly, you're responsible for your own actions, as an adult should be.
We're all of parenting age, holding down responsible jobs. We should act accordingly. Even if it means curtailing our basic desires, a little self-discipline goes a long way.
No welfare office, legal aid or innocent until proven guilty. If you want to be an unemployed bum, stay home. Here, you work for a living. It's true Darwinism. Only the fittest survive. The rest, nobody cares about. This culture can be ruthless in that respect.
And then there's the language barrier.
I went to visit a friend in hospital. He was hit by a car and was smacked on the side of the head, requiring six hours of surgery. He was lucky to be alive. Two days later, I went to the hospital to see if I could help out in any way.
Using my best Korean, I explained the situation, gave the guys name and where I thought he might be. In the intensive care unit, the clerk looked at me in disbelief. ``Are you all right," he said in Korean. I thought, ``Yes. Why?"
He asked if I wanted to see a doctor. I thought, ``No. Not me. My friend. Canadian guy." To which the guy responded, ``He needs a doctor." At which point I'm tearing my hair out. ``He's already seen a doctor "Where is he?" this guy asks. ``I was hoping you'd tell me." I responded.
Never a dull moment.