How to Make and Train With a Jegi

A jegi (roughly pronounced "jay" like the bird and "gi" like the karate uniform) is a traditional Korean toy, similar to a shuttlecock.  It's used to play a game called jegichagi (literally, "jegi kicking").  Legend has it that the game was developed from martial arts training.  No one knows if that is actually true, but there's some evidence for it.  Either way, there's no reason it can't be part of your training today.

Traditionally, the jegi was made with a 100 mun coin and hanji, handmade Korean paper.

100 mun Korean coin (photo credit)

Even though 100 mun might sound like a lot, this coin had so little value that in order to buy anything, you needed a lot of them.  People would thread them onto strings like beads and tie off the ends, then they could drape the strings over their shoulders to carry them around.  So even poor people had a lot of these coins lying around.

To make a jegi, the coin would be placed in the middle of a folded sheet of hanji paper.  By poking a hole though the paper to match the hole in the coin, the paper could be torn into strips and pushed through the hole in the coin, resulting in a paper-wrapped coin with feathered paper strips coming out of the hole.

Making a Jegi

In the spirit of the people who played jegichagi so long ago, we're going to make them out of whatever materials that we have at hand.  I like to use plastic bags, coins and string, but you do you.  Like a Jedi's lightsaber, you will design your jegi to be one-of-a-kind, perfectly in tune with your connection to the Force, from only the purest Kyber crystals... wait, where was I?  Oh, right, making a jegi.

If you don't have a cat but want a similar challenge level, you can toss your plastic bag into the air and cut your squares with a samurai sword before it lands.

1.  Cut squares.

You want two squares of plastic, each about one square foot.  For those who live in parts of the world that use a reasonable system of measurement, you get to make your squares 30 cm x 30 cm.  You don't have to be exact, and in fact I encourage you to experiment with bigger or smaller squares and see what you like.  Bigger squares means longer strips, and more air resistance, so the jegi will move more slowly through the air.

2.  Pick your coin(s).

You can use any coin you like, or really any small object that has a little weight to it.  You can also use multiple coins.  The important thing is that you get the weight right.  Too much weight, and your jegi will fall really fast and be difficult to use.  Too little, and it won't move easily through the air and it will be difficult to kick it high.  You can experiment to find your personal sweet spot.

I'm using a single penny.  I like the weight it gives my jegi, and also we should get rid of pennies whenever we can.  I should mention that this makes for a very light jegi, which will be difficult for traditional play but easier for martial arts training.


3.  Fold everything.

There are easier ways to do this, but if your art is usually practiced barefoot, it's nice to have a little extra padding.  If you want even more, you can wrap your coin in a tissue before following these steps.

a) Fold your squares in half and place the coin in the center.

b) Fold your coin into its own little strip along the folded edge.

c) Fold the strip a second time.

d) Roll it up.

4.  Tie it off.

Take your string and tie the plastic down near the coin, so the coin is secure and can't slide out.

5.  Cut the plastic into strips.

If you've been careful with your folding, it should be easy and quick to cut the plastic into strips, about 1 cm (half an inch for my fellow Americans) wide.  If, like myself, you have the craft skills of a drunk toddler, you'll probably have to cut each strip individually.  But success is a journey not a destination (or something) and eventually you will have a jegi.

Qapla'!

6.  Feather out the strips.

You've got it!  Even if you skip all this arts and crafts nonsense and just buy a jegi, you will have to do this step, which is to separate the strips from each other so that they can catch the air individually.  Wait, you can just buy these things?  And I'm here with my scissors and string like a sucker?

At this point, most humans would also identify this thing as a cat toy.

Let's Play!

So you have your own jegi!  Now what do you do with it?  Traditionally, jegichagi was played by kicking the jegi with the instep of the foot, trying to keep it from touching the ground, with the winner being the player who kicked it the most times before it finally fell.

I play it a little differently.  My method is picking it up, kicking it once, chasing it to wherever it fell, and trying again while some old Korean guy starts laughing on the sidelines, proceeding to demonstrate how easy it is and offering some advice that is beyond my language skills to understand.  Anyway.

Certainly you can play the traditional version of the game and use it to develop your hip muscles (or you can do that without the jegi).

There are also variations where you have to keep the jegi in the air using only a specific kick, or where you can't put your foot down between kicks, or where the jegi is kicked between players in a group.  Have fun with it!

Let's Train!

If you're training barefoot, I recommend doing a few light practice kicks so you know how your jegi feels before you go nuts (or before handing off your jegi to a young student).

Pick a striking technique.  Any punch or kick will work.  Toss your jegi into the air and try to hit it with the technique you chose.  Don't worry about where it lands, just try to make your hand or foot connect with the jegi.  If this is your first time playing with a jegi, you will probably find this plenty challenging.  Experiment with which techniques are easy and which are difficult.

Here are a few ideas, in order of difficulty:

Reverse punch
Front kick
Roundhouse kick
Side kick
Spin hook kick

I've never met a student who can reliably hit a jegi with all of those techniques.  Even so, it's great for developing fast and accurate strikes.

Here are a couple of my younger students working their kicks on a jegi:

Lets Play AND Train!

Ever played a basketball game called Horse?  You can modify the rules to play with a jegi.

One player issues a challenge.  It can be anything from "I am going to punch it and not miss," to "I am going to kick it with a flying spinning roundhouse kick with my eyes closed and make it land perfectly balanced on your head while reciting Funakoshi's 19th precept in Klingon."  The player then attempts whatever challenge they issued.

If they succeed, the jegi goes to the second player, who must attempt the same challenge.

If they fail, the second player does not have to attempt the challenge and instead creates their own challenge.

If you fail a challenge you didn't create, you get a letter.  Your first letter is H, then O, then R, and so forth.  Once you spell HORSE, you are out of the game.  The last player in the game is the winner.

Happy training!

Happy Times with Grandmaster Park Chull Hee

Many of you in my martial arts family already know that Grandmaster Park has passed away.  Today I am skipping work to write this post about happier times, because it's all I can do in the face of profound loss.  There's no way I can go to the funeral in Korea.  I want to do the normal things that people do when they mourn, but that involves friends, instructors, and training partners on the other side of a language barrier, and the world itself.

A wallet certificate for a martial arts master in taekwondo's formative years,
before they even nailed down exactly what to call the art.

While the world is a little bit less today for not having him in it, this is a post about happier times.

In fact, I'll start off with a Fish Story, which I wrote before I started this blog, at a time when a Guardians of the Galaxy reference was somewhat timely.

Fish Story

I have a fish story for you.

I wanted to take Grandmaster Park out to a nice restaurant before I leave Korea.  Being unfamiliar with restaurants in the area, I asked the taekyun staff for a recommendation. They suggested an oddly-named restaurant that translated to, "My mother cooked me fish."

So when I offered to take Grandmaster Park there, he absolutely could not understand why I kept telling him that my mother cooked me fish.  He was too polite to say, "Listen you crazy foreigner, I know for a fact that your mother didn't cook you fish, because your mother isn't even on this continent, and even if she did cook you fish, why do you keep telling me that?"  But eventually I got him to the restaurant and pointed at the sign, and perhaps he no longer worried that he needed to report me for some mental health screening.

When we got there, I saw that the pictures were not what I expected.  The taekyun staff told me it was "fried fish," so I imagined breaded and fried fish pieces, like you would get at a fish fry in America.  But no.  They served up whole fish.  I have a personal rule to not eat anything that looks like it did when it was alive.  Why?  Because I'm a wuss.  But Grandmaster Park seemed happy to be there, so I decided to suck it up and face my impending doom.

I get squeamish when I can't tell if it's a meal or a pet.

I was thankful when Grandmaster Park selected a dish that was served without a head or a tail.  I wouldn't have to worry that my meal would start screaming as soon as I poked at it with chop sticks.  And even more importantly, I wouldn't have to go all Yondu on Grandmaster Park's fish and save it from being eaten.  After a sigh of relief, I ordered two of them.

When the meal arrived, I had no idea how to eat it.  I'm pretty good with chop sticks at this point, but I couldn't imagine how to cut a fish with them.  So I focused on my soup until I could see Grandmaster Park do it.  He basically scooped the meat out like he was using a spoon.  I watched and copied, and managed to eat.  It was pretty good.

Using magical powers that I can only assume come somewhere around 9th degree, Grandmaster Park was able to turn his fish into two neat rows of bones that looked like they had been cleaned in a chemistry lab.  Mine looked like somebody had scraped some of the meat out, gotten frustrated, and decided to smash the rest with a hammer.

When I finally gave up, Grandmaster Park teased me.  He said that when it's time to pay, I should get a discount because there's still enough fish there that they can sell it again.

I wonder if in Korea, they put soy sauce in the wound instead of salt.

A Story About His Character

The first time I went to Korea, I knew that Grandmaster Park was in Seoul somewhere.  I didn't even try to look him up.  I was only a first degree back then, and I figured the founder of our kwan had better things to do than hang out with the likes of me.  I would have loved to meet him, but I didn't want to inconvenience him.  So you can imagine my surprise when he was the one to reach out to me.

I've told the story before, but I'll tell it again in a little more detail now.  I had been training in a Kukkiwon school under Master Jang.  It was valuable, certainly, but it was a more modern experience than I expected.  So one day after my Korean language skills had developed enough, I spent some quality time with Google and found a Korean website detailing the beginning of taekwondo through the original nine kwans.  On that page, I found the correct hangeul spelling of Park Chull Hee.  Then I was able to search for his name in Korean.

Spoiler:  I found him and trained with him.

Automatic translators between English and Korean are not very helpful, but back then they were even worse.  Google returned a myriad of results, but I understood almost none of their contents.  However, there was one result that included a picture--a map of an area in Seoul that I recognized.  It said there was a taekyun school there, which was surprising to me because I had been there and never noticed any martial arts school in that area.  Still, it was more to go on than I'd ever had before.  If these people were talking about Grandmaster Park on their website, they must certainly know how to find more traditional martial arts schools in Korea.  So as soon as the weekend came, I went to Seoul and followed the map, all so I could ask if there was a Kang Duk Won school near where I lived.

The school was closed when I arrived, but there were two people in the office.  I must have looked like a lost tourist.  But I did get to ask about traditional martial arts near my town.  Neither of them knew, but they took down my phone number and promised to find out.  The next day, Grandmaster Park called me.  I have always wondered about how that conversation went.  "Hello, sir.  How are you today?  There was a lost white lady asking about you today.  Her name is unpronounceable but here's her phone number."

When he called me, we arranged to meet at the taekyun school.  I had to wait until the weekend so I could travel to Seoul again, but it turned out that he traveled just as far.  He chose the place not because it was convenient, but because he knew that I could find it. When I met him, I bowed, because that is how you greet someone in Korea, but he shook my hand because that's how you greet someone in America.  We went to a restaurant and got to know each other a little bit.

Communication was difficult.  No one whose Korean is as terrible as mine has any right to complain about anyone's English, but we did not always understand each other. Moreover, he had some hearing loss, making it even more difficult.  I desperately wanted him to tell me stories.  I knew he had been deeply involved in the origins of taekwondo, and he must have so much to tell.  So at one point I asked him to tell me about his instructor.  He misunderstood and said something about the buses.  So I said, "No, I mean your instructor, Yoon Byungin."

He was surprised that I knew that name, and he lit up like a little kid on Christmas.  I've seen that smile from him exactly three times.  The first was on that day.  The second was when he learned that I was training in taekyun.  And the third was when I told him I was starting a school.

And a Very Personal Note

My strongest visceral memory of Grandmaster Park was during my first trip to Korea, on the day I told him I was going back to America soon.  It was a phrase he said in passing after training that day.  He said, "...when you start your school."

I loved martial arts and teaching too, but I understood that certain doors were closed to me, and that was one of them.  Even if it wasn't, it was dramatically premature to talk about that sort of thing.  I was only a first degree when this conversation took place.

He said, "When you start your school."  Not, "If you start a school," or even, "Hey, Jinyeong, have you ever thought of starting a school someday?"  He was so confident that I would persevere, that I would get there, that I would make this impossible thing a reality someday.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that I planned to give up on martial arts when I went back home.

That night was torture.  I barely slept.  I kept thinking how awful it was that I had this incredible instructor--one who could teach me so much, who was so happy to work with me, who never charged me a dime but demanded my utmost effort, who went out of his way to help me at every turn, and who even really, truly believed in me--and I was losing him because it was time to go home.

Well, I didn't lose him that day.  I went back to Korea every chance I could to train with him.  Each time I would show him the progress I had made by practicing what he had shown me last time, and he would smile and say, "Very improve!"  He didn't do email and phone conversations became increasingly difficult as his hearing worsened, so I communicated with him through snail mail.  I didn't lose him that day.  I lost him today.

But I'll always keep alive the things that he taught me.  I'll forever be a better person because of the things he did for me, and I'm more successful because of the ways he inspired me.  I'll do my very best to be worthy of the confidence he had in me, and I'll do everything I can to make sure my students carry the torch as well.  I'm sure many other people he touched will do exactly the same.

The world is a little bit less today for not having him in it, but the world is so much more because of the many years he was here.

Grandmaster Park and myself in front of the place where he took his first lessons.
Carrying on the tradition is all up to us now.

Thanks for listening.

Where Have You Been?

Hello everyone.  It seems my previously mentioned hiatus was longer than I expected, but the good news is I should be posting again soon.  The main hold-up is that I am, (and I'm using the technical term here) broke.

Look, it's that stuff I don't have.

Some Reasons Why My Budget Is Crying

My relatively sudden trip to Korea put a huge dent in my travel budget, as is to be expected with international travel.  I thought I'd be back up and running soon, but there was another wrench thrown into the machine right before I came back home.  Long story short, I finally started a martial arts school.

Yeah, I named my school after my blog.  Stop laughing.  There are about 800 schools in Madison and all the
names are taken.  Except for Face Punch Martial Arts.  Or Face Palm Martial Arts.  Those are still available. 

Starting a school is something that I have always planned to do eventually.  Grandmaster Park has been encouraging me to do it for years now.  I didn't listen.  I didn't feel ready. As time passed, more people I respected began to push me and that direction.  I told them all I'd do it someday.  The encouragement became more insistent and strongly-worded until the combined force of it was greater than how un-ready I felt.  That tipping point came during this most recent trip to Korea, during a long talk with Master Do about martial arts, life, work, and being happy.  When I told Grandmaster Park about my decision to finally do it, he smiled in a way I've only seen from him a few times.

From that moment, it has been a roller coaster.  I still don't feel ready.  But as a friend once told me, "How awful would it be if we only ever did things when we were ready? We'd never do anything."  He was so right.  I don't know if anyone ever feels ready to start a business for the first time.  Maybe it's crazy to do this without more of a cash reserve.  Maybe it's even crazier to do this while still remaining committed to the 50 States Challenge.  But to quote more inspirational posters... actually any of them will do, but I was thinking of this one.  The point is, I'm doing this thing.

I know most of my readers are nowhere near Madison, Wisconsin.  But now that I have a home base, should you find yourself in town, please feel free to stop by one of my classes.  I would be honored to be a part of your vacation.

I do have some money set aside for the 50 States Challenge, but there's one last budget woe that needs to be resolved before I make any promises.  His name is Kaoru.

"I refuse to cooperate with any form of dental care, and now I need surgery.  Pet me."

Kaoru needs dental surgery, and since he's high risk with anesthesia, it will be the particularly expensive kind.  Until that's done, I can't really budget accurately for travel.

And Some Good News

I don't want to make any promises until I get the financial part sorted out, but in the best case scenario I could start travelling for the 50 States Challenge as early as next month. I'll likely have to stay close to home so I can make it a shorter, cheaper trip.  No Hawaii for me just yet.

If you want to host me, let me know!  Even if I can't make it to your state anytime soon, knowing you're interested is still helpful.  If you don't want to host me but you just want to say hi, that's welcome, too.  My Facebook and Twitter links are to your right, and my email is at the top of the page.

Let's color in this map!

Thanks, everyone, for being patient while I work out these pesky monetary details.

How to Train in Korea

Training in Korea has been an incredibly rewarding experience for me, but it took a long time of learning the hard way in order to get to this point.  This post is the resource I wish I had before I went to Korea the first time.  I hope someone finds it valuable.

That time I photobombed Grandmaster Park on the
front page of Taekwondo Times.

Figure out how you are going to get there.

Depending on your country of origin, the visa rules will be different.  For Americans, you can visit for 90 days with only a passport.  This is an expensive trip, so having a job waiting for you can help immensely.  If you are a native English speaker with a 4-year degree, you might be able to get a job teaching English.  If you do, your choices are 1-year contracts or 1-month camps.  There is nothing in between.  Keep in mind, though, that work visas can be tedious to obtain and the rules are always changing.  In some countries (including America) it can take several months to prepare all of the documents. It's not necessary to arrange your job through a recruiter, but it can be very helpful to do so the first time.

I introduced these guys to roleplaying games, riddles, mythology and fables, and
I guess I taught them some English, too.

Figure out where you are going to stay.

If you are traveling to Korea on a work visa, your employer will arrange your lodging.  For tourists, your options are hotels, goshiwons and homestays.  For a short visit, hotels will do just fine, but for longer stays they can be prohibitively expensive.  Goshiwons are miniature dorm rooms.  They are uncomfortable for very long-term stays, but if you are in Korea for only a month or so, this is a very cheap and serviceable way to go.  Homestays involve living with a family who can be a great resource for helping you make the most of your trip.

Know what you want to study.  

Before my first trip to Korea, I was told there was a taekwondo school on every street corner and it would be easy to find a place to train.  While this was a slight exaggeration, there were indeed about a dozen schools within walking distance of where I lived. However, I would not say that it was easy to find a place to train.

The schools that can be found on every street corner tend to cater to children.  While they will eagerly accept an adult student, it is likely to be a much more modern experience than you might expect.  It may be difficult to find one with an instructor who speaks English.  I trained at one of these schools for a year, and while I absolutely love the people I trained with, I can't recommend this option.  Modern taekwondo is a very prolific art--it is available all over the world.  If this is what you want to train, you are likely to get more from the experience at home, where you fluently share a language with your instructor.

The person in this picture who speaks the least English is my instructor.
The person in this picture who speaks the least Korean is me.

For adults who are serious about modern taekwondo, the best instruction is available through universities.  Taekwondo is the national sport of Korea and it is offered at many higher education schools, often as a major and sometimes in English.  Like any college or university back home, expect to go through an admissions process and enroll in the school like any other student.

If you are training in an art other than taekwondo, a university will likely not be an option and you should expect it to be a little harder to find a school.  For obscure arts, simply finding a school and signing up is the best, and perhaps the only, way to go.

Taekyun is one of those arts that is harder to find.

Traditional taekwondo is hard to find.  You will probably need to have a connection before you arrive in Korea.  In my case, I made my first connection by knowing my lineage and style's history.  When my Korean language skills grew to the point that I could surf the Internet in Korean a little bit, I found the correct Korean spelling of Park Chull Hee, who founded the style I learned in America.  I found a website that mentioned his name and had a map.  I couldn't understand anything else on the page and the automatic translators were no help, but I recognized the area in the map.  The next weekend, I took a few hours for a trip to that area and discovered a taekyun school.  It was closed.  But by pure luck, there was someone in the office who could help me.  Long story short, I now train at that taekyun school every chance I get, and they introduced me to Grandmaster Park, who I also train with every chance I get.  Every traditional martial arts connection I've made in Korea has come from them.

Which brings me to...

Have a contact ahead of time.  

Having a contact within your martial art is a huge help for making sure you get to study what you want to study.  Your time in Korea is a finite resource, and you don't want to spend it bumbling around trying to meet the right people.  Preparation is key.

It's also valuable to have a connection for day-to-day issues.  If you don't have an employer or at least a friend in Korea, you probably want to stay at a major hotel where the staff speaks English.  Any number of issues can come up when you're travelling, and having someone who can help you is invaluable.

Don't neglect your language skills.  

Especially if you are staying in Seoul, you can get by using only English.  Don't.

Your instructor probably will not speak a lot of English.  Those who can must still conduct their classes in Korean, translating for you only when time permits.  The more you understand, the more you will get out of your training.  Try asking your instructor for some vocabulary words that will help you understand the class.  Most will appreciate the effort.

Even if you are lucky enough to find an instructor who is fluent in English, I would recommend putting some serious time into learning Korean.  At the very least, learn the Korean alphabet before you arrive.  It's easy and extremely valuable.  Many of the signs are in English if you can just understand the letters.

I often say that I don't speak Korean, but that isn't completely true.  I'm not conversational, but I can make myself understood even in some unusual situations.  "My friend is drunk and lost" is not exactly covered in Level 1 textbooks, but being able to convey that to a security guard who spoke no English turned out to be a useful skill to have.

But besides the usefulness of being able to communicate, the biggest reason to work hard on learning Korean is the doors it will open for you.  Even when I have said completely wrong things, even accidentally offensive things, the people I spoke to recognized that I was making a genuine effort with the language and culture.  Being a foreigner who is willing to do that sets you apart from the tourists and straight-out-of-college expats who are just looking to have fun in a foreign country.  That kind of dedication is rare, and almost always appreciated.

Korean is not an easy language for native English speakers to learn, but there are a number of free resources.  I particularly like Talk To Me in Korean.

Be respectful of the culture.  

Never forget that you are a guest in this country.  This should go without saying, but sadly I've seen westerners behave in ways that made me cringe just being near them.  I've heard those same people complain of how mean and unfriendly Koreans are.  That has never been my experience.

I've found Koreans to be very kind and polite people.  They are incredibly helpful and forgiving of people who can't speak the language in a way no visitor to the United States could expect.  Once I was lost on the outskirts of Seoul.  I asked for directions in a convenience store, and the worker called her English-speaking daughter to help me understand what she was telling me.  They walked me to the bus stop and asked a man there to help me get on the right bus.  That man asked a passenger to help me get off at the right stop.  It became a community project to help the lost foreigner get to the right place.  I can't imagine that happening back home.

And I managed to get where I was going before dark.

Making just a little effort with the culture will go a long way.  Being rude will get you nowhere.  Don't be that guy.

Take notes.  

Especially for a short trip, you have a finite amount of time in Korea, so you want to get as much out of your training time as possible.  On my first stay in Korea, after my class with Grandmaster Park, I would write everything I could remember in a notebook during the bus ride home.  When I got home, I would type it in my martial arts journal.  This was great not only for creating a reference resource, but also for the process of recalling everything I was taught.

I still use my journal to record technical details, but videos are also incredibly helpful. Take videos if and only if your instructor is comfortable with it.  Your instructor might allow you to make a video but ask you to keep it private.  I have a dozen or so such videos that no one besides myself has ever seen, or ever will.  My instructors are trusting me to use it purely as my own reference and not as a representation of them or their style.

There are plenty of cafes where you can write notes after class.  This one has
a travel theme and some really good cappuccino.

Also be prepared for the likelihood that you will not have space to practice between classes.  Especially if you are in Seoul, space is at a premium and your options will be limited.  If you can't practice on your own, it becomes especially important to take notes and review them before the next class.

Be patient.  

It's tempting to think you need to cram in everything as quickly as possible, and you are right.  You need to make the most of your time.  But understand that on your first trip, your instructor doesn't really know you.  Cultivating that relationship takes time.

I've made several trips to Korea to train in taekyun, and each time I was greeted more warmly.  The first time, I was treated like a customer with a genuine interest in martial arts. They gave me a fast and interesting introduction to taekyun.  Most foreigners don't make it back for a second trip, so when I did, they treated me like a dedicated student and started outlining some long-term plans for me to continue my taekyun training.  Upon my third arrival, I was greeted with hugs and the attitude that since I was a regular now, I had better improve my skills considerably.

It's not fair to expect this kind of thing to develop overnight.  Most instructors in any country will respond to dedication, and Korea is no different.  Are you a serious martial artist, or a tourist who trains in martial arts?  It can be hard to tell the difference, so take the time and prove it.  You prove it by never missing a class, by training even when you are tired and jet-lagged, by diligently reviewing, and by keeping up the practice when you're not in Korea.  Serious martial artists know the drill--that's just how they operate.  Be patient and your instructor will see it.

Drink in moderation.

Drinking is part of the culture in Korea, but don't go overboard.  You're here to train, not get wasted.  Besides the negative impact that alcohol has on your physical performance, you've only got so much time in Korea.  Do you really want to spend it drunk and hung over?

A Buddha statue surrounded by "ten thousand Buddhas" at Kuknyeong Temple,
hidden away in the mountains.  You will never get there drunk.

Enjoy the adventure.

Sometimes people ask me for advice about teaching English in Korea.  I always tell them that if they're looking for an adventure, they're going to have a wonderful experience that they'll remember their whole lives, but if they're looking for a job they're going to be miserable.  Traveling or living in any foreign country will have its quirks and annoyances, and the longer you stay the more chance they have to get under your skin.  Nobody goes to Seoul for the crowded subway ride.  They tolerate the crowded subway ride for the adventure at the other end.

If you try to live like you do back home, with a western diet and western habits, it's difficult if not impossible.  Even if you do manage, it will be expensive and frustrating.  Eat your kimchi, try the thing that still looks like it did when it was alive, hang your wet clothes instead of trying to find a dryer, and always remember that what happens in a noraebang stays in a noraebang.

Things you can only do in Korea:  photo op at the Kimchi Museum.

This is a country with thousands of years of history and countless stories to tell.  Seoul exists firmly in the past and in the future--I've never seen any other place where you can be so completely surrounded by the height of technology and the modern world, but turn a corner and see something that has been there for hundreds of years or more.  You can't spend every minute training, so take some time to experience the culture.

A Drill for Very Straight Punches

Even though this trip to Korea wasn't part of the 50 States Challenge, I would be remiss if I didn't come back with a Takeaway Technique for the blog.  

The idea of economy of movement is not a unique one.  In a life-and-death situation, a fraction of a second can make all the difference in the world, so the idea of not wasting any time during your movements is just common sense.  

When Grandmaster Park talked about this, it boiled down to a simple phrase that I have heard from him many times, "Straight is fast."  You can get very academic about proving that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but really it just means your punch is faster when it goes directly to its target.  

Eh... I just can't bring myself to crack a joke about Grandmaster Park.

He liked to draw an analogy to Wild West shootouts.  He said that gunfighters had to learn to draw their weapons very quickly in order to survive, and they did so by very straight direct movements.  The shootouts from movies are a creative interpretation of historical fact, but drawing a weapon as quickly as possible has obvious benefits, and not just in the Old West.  So for the sake of Grandmaster Park's explanation, imagine the quick draw from the stereotypical Western shootout, which is convenient for its simplicity.  The gun was likely holstered on the hip (not the leg) of the shooting hand.  The very fast movement to remove the gun and shoot from the hip is intended to optimize speed.  Presumably those who weren't as fast as their enemies died and were unable to pass on their technique.  The surviving technique involves a very fast, very short movement with the elbow tucked in, which you might notice, does not look terribly different from a punch from the hip.

The moral of the story is that straight is fast, and keeping the elbow in toward the body keeps the movement straight.  Even people who conceptually understand this mechanic sometimes have trouble adhering to it.  Twisting the fist from palm-up to palm-down necessarily moves the elbow, and for many people it naturally drifts away from the body during that movement.

Master Jang from Sunrise Taekwondo (who I should mention is not Grandmaster Park's student and, to my knowledge, they have never even met each other) showed me how he teaches students to keep their punches straight.  He breaks it down into three steps:

Master Jang teaching, because he always seems to be doing that.

1.  Start by holding both fists out in front of the body to be aware of alignment in the end position.  Without twisting the arm at all, pull the hand halfway back to its starting position on the hip/belt/floating ribs/etc., according to your style.  During this movement, the forearm should brush against the side of the body.  Pause, then complete the movement. Ignore the punch, and reset the hand at the punch's end position and repeat the return movement.  Practice one side only, then practice the other side.

2.  Now add the punch.  As the returning hand pauses in its intermediate location, the punching hand should pause next to it.  It shouldn't twist at all in this stage of the movement, and the forearm should again brush against the side of the body.  Complete the movement and end in a punch with the back hand returned.

3.  Now take out the pause in the middle.  It should be a normal, full-speed punch at this point.

Here is a video of Master Jang demonstrating the progression.

And the same thing viewed from the side.

To my thinking, this drill provides three main benefits to the student.  First, it emphasizes brushing the arm against the side of the body, which will straighten out a punch all by itself.  Second, the pause in the middle allows the student to check their technique at the point where the mistake is usually made, whereas performing the punch at full speed can obscure the mistake.  And finally, it delays the twisting movement.  

This delay is correct according to the styles I have learned, though I'll certainly concede that others may teach punching differently.  But setting style differences aside, delaying the twisting movement allows for a straighter punch.  The elbow simply can't move very far laterally when the arm is more extended.  As an experiment, give this a try.  When your fist is near your body, it is easy to rotate the elbow, though you run the risk of looking very silly.  If you try the same shoulder movement with your arm most of the way extended, you can probably only move your elbow by a few inches.  So even a mistake in the shoulder movement can be minimized by delaying the twist.

It's a very specific drill to address a very specific problem, but if you happen to have that problem, I hope this helps.

The Modern Side of Taekwondo

Depending on how you do your grouping and counting, taekwondo can be considered the most widely practiced martial art in the world.  For better or worse taekwondo is everywhere.  From tiny dojangs all over the world to the Olympics, taekwondo is practiced in over 200 countries with over 8,000,000 black belts and that doesn't even include those who practice ITF taekwondo.  At the center of this wide success is Kukkiwon, the headquarters of the World Taekwondo Federation, better known by its unfortunate acronym, WTF.

The gateway into Kukkiwon.

Like all things, taekwondo is a product of what it used to be.  To greatly oversimplify its history, there were originally nine styles, or "kwans," that combined to form Kukkiwon. The Korean government supported Kukkiwon and within Korea, this unified body reigned supreme.  Outside of Korea, where the Korean government couldn't reach, not everyone joined Kukkiwon.  There are still schools that teach according to the original kwans.

Each of the original nine kwans are commemorated in a museum at Kukkiwon.

The process of unification was not a smooth one, and to this day it can be a touchy subject to some.  So when a stranger at Kukkiwon asked me if I practiced taekwondo, it was a bit risky to answer as honestly as I did.  I said yes, but it was a little different because I came from a kwan.  He didn't seem offended but answered eloquently that it didn't matter, "as long as you wear the white uniform."  He went on to emphasize the importance of taekwondo uniting with one voice, and how much taekwondo has been able to accomplish through unity.  He cited the Olympics as an example.  He said that karate, lacking a single governing body over its 400 splintered organizations, has never been able to enter the Olympics as taekwondo has, and that Kukkiwon has made taekwondo powerful.

By chance I arrived at Kukkiwon during the demonstration team's practice time.  Much of what they did was a walk-through of their upcoming performance, but they also practiced some of their more challenging board breaking feats.  During the show they used demonstration boards, which are designed to break easily, but for rehearsal they kicked foam squares to conserve boards and to avoid littering the stage with splinters.  One particular break that the team found difficult involved running across the stage, jumping off a partner while being thrown higher, kicking a board mid-flip at the apex of the jump, and landing gracefully in a fighting stance.

Personally, I have absolutely no inclination to ever be two stories off the ground and upside down while in a state of free fall.  It probably goes without saying that a stunt like this is beyond my skill.  Even when they missed the break, or the kicker stumbled on the landing, I still thoroughly enjoyed watching them practice.  It made them seem more human to watch things happen less than perfectly, but also I loved that they seemed to be having fun.

When the performance began, it was broken into three sections.  The first was a demonstration of skills, and the second and third part told a story.  Like Cirque du Soleil, the story in a performance like this is a thinly veiled excuse for a visual feast.  For the story, the performers wore red, blue and black uniforms to indicate rival factions and played out an impressive display of stylized conflict, ending with a reconciliation and celebration of unity.  Throughout the performance the audience was treated to 45 minutes of stunning feats of martial athleticism.  This video should give you an idea.

And the break they were perfecting?  Here is the moment of truth:

After the show I spoke with one of the performers who happened to speak a little English. He had been training in taekwondo for 20 years.  I didn't ask his age, but I guessed that must have been pretty much his whole life.  He endured a grueling audition to secure his place on the demonstration team.  To start, they had to run 10 laps around the Kukkiwon building (my guess is that's about a 2-mile run), before demonstrating any techniques. They first had to show their command of basics, but they also had an opportunity to show off "specialty kicks."

Lim Hoosang, Kukkiwon Demonstration Team athlete.

Taekwondo is known for its graceful high kicks, and this trip to Kukkiwon did not disappoint.  But behind the flashiness and the impressive technique, there was an ever-present message.  Today in many parts of the world we can walk the streets safely without facing violence on a regular basis.  In this safer modern world, martial arts have often maintained their relevance by purporting to teach values.  Kukkiwon lists courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self control and indomitable spirit.  I found it oddly fitting that the value Kukkiwon sought so earnestly to impart on that day to be none of those, but unity.

In the Forbidden Garden

Changdeokgung, the Palace of Prospering Virtue, is the most picturesque of Seoul's five palaces.  The traditional right angles are often eschewed in favor of aesthetic merit. There's plenty to appreciate in the palace itself, but the gem of the site is Huwon, the garden behind it.

Some architecture in Changdeokgung Palace.

"Huwon" literally means the "Rear Garden," but it is also called the Forbidden Garden, the Inner Garden, or the Secret Garden.  It takes its more dramatic names from the rule that no one could enter it without the king's permission.  Today the names are still somewhat applicable because of how hard it is to get tickets.  This was my first visit to the garden, and it wasn't for lack of trying on previous trips to Korea.

Getting here is easy.  Getting further is hard.

The garden itself sprawls across 78 acres.  Much of it is a pleasant walk through wooded landscapes, but the garden also holds a number of pavilions and structures.  One of the first points of interest is this two-story pavilion.  The first floor was the royal library and the second floor was a reading room.

Juhamnu Pavilion behind Eosumun Gate.

A little deeper into the garden is Bulromun Gate, a simple stone archway carved from a single rock.  It is said to confer longevity and health to anyone passing through.

Health and long life?  Yes, please.  But two days later I caught a cold.

There are many beautiful ponds and pools in Korea's palaces.  Traditionally they are square to represent the Earth, in line with the beliefs of their architects.  This pond takes a smaller view.  It is the shape of Korea.

A pond in the shape of what is now North Korea and South Korea.

Deep in this garden created for the royal family's relaxation and amusement is the most unlikely addition--a rice paddy and a pavilion with a thatched roof.  This was created for a yearly ceremony in which the king would personally harvest the rice and rethatch the roof. By the king doing the work himself, the royal family could understand the hard work of the people he ruled.  This was no publicity stunt.  It was hidden away in the most private grounds of the palace where no ordinary farmer could ever see it.

Cheongeuijeong and the king's rice paddy.

The ceremony is still performed to this day, but since Korea hasn't had a king in over a century, the ceremony is now a historical reenactment.  

On the way out of the gardens, I snapped this picture of one of the main palace buildings. This was where the king would perform formal ceremonies and meet with dignitaries. Day-to-day ruling happened elsewhere.  But I always thought the most interesting thing about it was that these buildings are constructed entirely without nails.  Nails were only used to hang something on a wall.  This entire structure was built by cleverly interlocking tight-fitting pieces of wood.

Building this would be challenging even with the aid of nails.

Like many traditional Korean buildings, the corners in Changdeokgung palace have clay figurines called japsang.  There can be anywhere from three to eleven of them, but they always appear in odd numbers.  They are decorations, but they also were intended to ward off evil spirits.

So, Joseon Dynasty ghostbusters?

Changdeokgung Palace is over 600 years old.  It was burnt down partially or completely no less than three times over the course of Korea's turbulent history, each time being rebuilt according to the original design.  It has seen generations of kings come and go. But the palace grounds hold a living thing that has survived all this and more.

When 750 years old you reach, look as good you will not.

This is a Chinese Juniper tree planted here before the palace was built.  Its wood was used to make incense for rituals at a nearby shrine.

Downtown Seoul is only a few steps away, and the thick of the modern world with it.  On some level it seems absurd that these ancient sights can exist in the same space as high speed trains, free WiFi and skinny vanilla lattes.  But that is Seoul--a city that has enthusiastically embraced modern technology while still being very proud of its 6000 year history.

Taekyun as a Combat Sport

Taekyun has been practiced as a sport in Korea since at least the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910), when its popularity soared and taekyun matches were first depicted in books. Taekyun is still practiced as a sport to this day, with the most prestigious event being the Taekyun Battle.

Teams of taekyun players gather from all over Korea to compete in the championship, which begins in May and ends in October every year.  I was lucky enough to be in Korea for the finals.

Taekyun Battle 2015 officials, demonstrators, and teams competing for 1st through 4th place.

How The Game is Played

Matches are full contact.  The only protective equipment is a mouth guard and a groin cup, although taekyun shoes have a minimal layer of padding built into the top of them. Beyond that, the players are completely unprotected.

There is no scoring in a taekyun match.  There are two ways to win--either by a successful kick to the face or by throwing the opponent on the ground.  Even though low kicks aren't tracked by the judges, they are still a major part of the game since they are used to weaken the opponent.

Low kicks are used to weaken the opponent.

A kick to the face will end the match.

A good throw will end the match.

At the Taekyun Battle, there are five players to a team.  Two players face off and have five minutes to win by head kick or throw.  At the end of the five minutes, if neither has achieved a victory condition, both players are eliminated.  If one does manage to decisively end the match, only the opponent is disqualified.  The winner stays to fight the next opponent from the other team.  In fact it's possible for one player to defeat an entire team single-handedly.

The game ends when one team's players have all been eliminated.

Taekyun Battle 2015 Finals

The opening ceremony for the finals included speeches by dignitaries and an explanation of the rules.  There were also demonstrations highlighting the aspects of taekyun that aren't immediately apparent from watching a taekyun competition.  One performance showed taekyun as a basics demonstration to live music and one showed taekyun as a practical martial art--both of which were fascinating, but will have to wait for another blog post.

The final match of 2015 took place between Sungju Taekyun Academy and a team of graduate students from Sungkyunkwan University.  Sungju, wearing muted red and green, had to travel about four hours to compete in Seoul.  Sungkyunkwan, wearing bright green, were much closer since their school is in Seoul.  These two teams had to eliminate ten others on their way to face each other in the finals. 

Sportsmanship:  Before the final match, Sungju surprises their opponents with fruit gift boxes.

Here is part of one of the match-ups, to give you an idea of how the game is played.  The nice folks at Kyulyun Taekyun provided this video and uploaded a longer version that shows all of the matches.

The judges confer about whether a high kick was blocked or not.

Kick blocked!  The match continues.

It ended up being a very close contest.  Two matches ended by kicks, two by throws, and two more ended with the clock eliminating both players.  Both teams were down to a single remaining fighter, and it all came down to the match up between Park Hyeonsu of Sungkyunkwan and Son Byungjun of Sungju.  Since it's determined by elimination instead of score, matches can be cruelly short.  Here is the final match-up in its entirety.

Taekyun Battle is finished until 2016.  Congratulations to the top four teams!