Having traveled east on a voyage of commerce and exploration, and having discovered in these distant parts myriad and sundry curiosities unknown in our fair lands, I now endeavor to describe the strange tribes of Hanguk, also called Korea, a peninsula near Cathay. These traveler's tales are true: I describe only what I myself have witnessed.

AJUMMAS: The word ajumma means "auntie" in the language of the Hanguk people, but ajummas are hardly limited to a variety of blood relations. No, any woman over forty is quite likely to be one or another variety of Ajumma, of which there are many. However, all varieties share certain characteristics in common:

• Permed hair. Most often the hair of an Ajumma is curly and black. As the natural tendency among Koreans is to have straight hair, curls are invariably associated with perms, and perms simply scream Ajumma. These perms range from Richard Simmons afros to relatively subdued waves, but the hair is usually black, though it can also be various unnatural shades of gold or pink, and the perm is always awful. Some travelers report that government vans roam the streets, abducting women whose laugh lines have begun to appear, then strapping them down and brutally disfiguring them with an extensive hair-care regimen, but this is only hearsay, and I report it as such.

• Age: You can't be an Ajumma until you look like you're a little past it, which is why you have to be careful before you call somebody ajumma. Women in their thirties are often clinging desperately to Agassi status — an Agassi is what you are before you become an Ajumma — but frequently these very women make the bizarre miscalculation that a perm might make the look younger. The perm, of course, being the clearest identifying mark of the Ajumma, it is pretty much impossible that it will make a Korean woman appear younger, but people do incomprehensible things for youth and beauty.

• Bad sweaters: Not a requirement exactly, and not exclusively the province of the Ajumma, the bad sweater is nevertheless typically associated with her. It can be anything from a black-and-white checked cardigan to a gold-lame-and-spangles disaster, but it should be both hideous and unflattering.

CLUNK MONKS: One job of a Buddhist monk is to gather alms, and another is to spread the dharma (teaching). In Korea, the gray-clad monks combine these activities by going out into the streets with their wooden bells — and the word "bell" is generous here, as the sound is really more of a tok-tok-tok-tok! as the monk thumps the hollow wooden ball rhythmically with a stick. As he clunks away, he prostrates himself again and again, and he chants, often through a loudspeaker. Next to him, of course, is a donation box. And like Hare Krishnas or Christian missionaries on the street in New York (or like Christian missionaries here), he is studiously ignored by everyone who passes.

ENGLISH VAMPIRES: There is no way to spot an English Vampire. They can be found anywhere — in subway stations, in tourist information kiosks, on the street, even in the apartment next to yours. They look just like ordinary Koreans, but these men — they are always men — soon reveal their true colors. Engaging you in conversation, they quickly run through the first series of pleasantries, demanding to know where you are from, how long you are in Korea, how you like it and what you do. But the pleasantries don't stop there, and in fact there is no real end to them. The English Vampire latches on, following you down the street and running through his entire English vocabulary if you let him. He will tell you everything you don't want to know about a particular king of the Chosun dynasty, or list all the dozens of obscure places in Korea that you should visit while you're here, or ask your opinion of every food product available in the Republic, and he will not let go. When confronted with such creatures, it is best to leap onto the next available public transportation and flee, or else curl up into a ball on the street and sob, though the latter tactic is likely to lead to a lengthy discourse on the healthful properties of kimchi or taekwon-do.

HELLO-FUCK-YOUS: In Korea, high schools are segregated by sex, which means that high school boys are even more immature and pent-up than they are in America. Harmless when encountered singly, high school boys become dreaded Hello-Fuck-Yous only when running in packs. At such times they are likely to engage you in English conversation, and absolutely everything you do or say will cause them to snigger nastily. "Hello!" they will cry. "Hello!" you will respond. And they will snigger. "Where you from?" they will ask. "USA," you might reply. And they will snigger. "Welcome to Korea!" they will shout, and then snigger. Then they will point to each other and yell, "Crazy boy!" which is a much bigger insult in Korean than it is in English. (Well, actually they will call each other "crejjy boy," but let's not split hairs.) Eventually they might even go so far as to call each other "sex-crazy" or "sexy boy," because sex and sexy are obviously daring words to say. And as you walk past, doing your best to ignore this bizarre display, they will finally throw their middle fingers gleefully in the air and shout "Fuck you!" the hostility of which they seem not to recognize.

JETSONS GIRLS: No matter the weather, indoors and out, the Jetsons Girl is there to dance for you in leg-warmers and sell you cellphones and canned goods. Dressed in platform sneakers and ridiculous minidresses that look like cheerleading uniforms from the 1950s future, they announce the openings of burger shops, hawk cellphones, restock shelves at the supermarket, or otherwise announce the presence of things you don't really need to buy. The most unusual aspect of their appearance is the curious leg-flares so many of them wear, as if you took a pair of bellbottom vinyl pants, cut them off at the knee, and used elastic to turn the bottoms into conical leg-warmers. (We really have to figure out where one buys these outfits, because it would be fabulous clubwear for Jenny back in NYC.) In these bizarre uniforms, the Jetsons Girls then dance listlessly to shitty Korean pop, trying very hard to continue dancing and yelling the merits of their product while also attempting to stave off hypothermia. (Come summer, I expect to find them sweating miserably instead.)

Jetsons Girls are the only Koreans who consistently appear to hate their jobs. In a country where McDonald's clerks are friendly and efficient, where desk clerks at hospitals seem genuinely concerned for your welfare and humanity, where even the bus drivers take a sadistic pleasure in their work, the Jetsons Girls stand out as the only people whose jobs obviously make them miserable.

KOREAN SOLDIERS: They're all over the place, and none of them have guns. I have never in my life seen this many unarmed soldiers. But then I have never seen all that many soldiers period, so what do I know? Maybe soldiers go around unarmed in most countries. Anyway, it just seems kinda weird to me.

MERCHANDISE-STRAIGHTENERS: You are interested in purchasing a new frying pan, and you are checking out the merchandise at one of the nicer department stores. You pick up a pan, look at the price, decide it's too much, and put it down exactly where it was. As soon as you do, the Merchandise-Straightener swoops in to adjust the pan's position by microns. Why? I have no idea, but in some stores all customer-handled merchandise must then be straightened by a store employee as soon as possible. (Merchandise-Straighteners also perform the important duty of formally greeting you to a section of the store that you are obviously passing through as briefly as possible while shortcutting to somewhere else. I have been bowed to and formally greeted while taking four steps around a bra bin to avoid a tie-up of shopping carts in the main aisle.)

MOPED WARRIORS: Cruising down the sidewalk and sending pedestrians scattering, Moped Warriors live life at the edge. Their only purpose in life is to deliver hot meals, and if that means running over a Stroller Granny (see below), well, so be it. On the other hand, we can sit in our apartment and order up a hot meal that arrives quickly, we pay eight dollars or so (no tip expected), the meal is served on actual dishes with actual utensils, and an hour or two later the Moped Warrior returns to pick up the dishes from outside our door. Is it worth the risk of being brained by an insulated aluminum box every time I'm waiting for a bus? I'm going to have to say yes.

PLAID DISASTERS: Some believe that their special markings are meant to frighten enemies, while others hypothesize that their curious appearance has developed as a way of attracting mates, or even as a means of appeasing evil spirits. Whatever the case, Plaid Disasters have a unique ability to mix printed fabrics of all kinds — not just plaids but tartans, checks, animal prints, stripes, even zigzags — and to do so in the most appalling ways possible. Expert analysis by scientists at the Swedish Spectroscopy Institute has proved that the typical Korean Plaid Disaster is capable of blending colors that result in over 96.4 percent awfulness, a higher percentage than any other people on earth (with the disputed exception of the now-extinct Iron Curtain Escapee Plaid Disaster).

POINTY-FOOTED AGASSIS: There are many varieties of Agassi (young woman). It is believed by many that Pointy-Footed Agassis and Platform-Footed Agassis were once the same tribe, but the two have now branched apart and are completely distinct. In any case, the Pointy-Footed Agassi's feet are so long and so pointy and her heels are so high that she must sidestep her way up and down subway staircases.

STREET MERMAIDS: Without getting into the complicated morality, ethics and politics of poverty, let's frankly acknowledge that when it comes to begging, the more pathetic you are, the better your chances. Thus the Street Mermaids, a unique sect of Korean beggars, have developed an especially pathetic way to demonstrate that they have lost the use of their legs. (Whether a given Street Mermaid is actually paraplegic or just pretending is another question I won't go into and can't answer anyway.) The Street Mermaid swims the sidewalks of Seoul by lying belly-down on a small dolly, usually pushing a small rolling change basket in front of him. Often he is equipped with a radio that announces his presence. As for his legs, they are encased in enormous, heavy pants that are made from large sections of the inner tubes of tires. These pants can withstand the dragging along the sidewalk while protecting the legs, and their wide curves transform the Street Mermaid's lower half into spectacular fins. Keep in mind that Korea is not a country without wheelchairs, and in fact many subway stations are wheelchair-accessible. And I have seen beggars in wheelchairs, too. But a paraplegic in a wheelchair is nowhere near as pathetic as a paraplegic dragging himself along the ground, and begging is a competitive business.

STROLLER GRANNIES: How do you transport a baby who can't walk? The answer in Korea is obvious: put the child on your back, wrap a blanket around it, tie off the blanket in the front, and then fold your hands behind your back, under the baby's bottom. There are strollers here in Korea, and some mothers actually use them, but most often they are the sole province of very old women — Stroller Grannies — who use them as walkers.

SWISS ALPINISTS: Say you wanted to spend the day walking up a moderate slope near your home. You would throw on a pair of jeans and your tennis shoes or hiking boots, maybe toss a water bottle and some granola bars in a backpack, and be off. Not so in Korea. For the Swiss Alpinist, hiking is as much about gear as it is about mountains or walking. Fancy boots, adjustable sticks and goofy hats are all de rigeur, not to mention fanny packs and daypacks and snazzy hi-tech fleeces and leggings. But it's the socks that are most important. Giant argyle monstrosities that would make Pipi Longstocking proud, these socks must be pulled high and taut, and they must be ugly and ridiculous. Every time I see these things, I expect any moment to hear Alp horns and see blonde girls skipping over the next ridge, but of course the argyles trudge instead past twelve-foot Buddha statues and drink machines selling Pocari Sweat.

VEGETABLE-SORTERS: Squat. No, really. Get down low, with your butt right on your heels. Okay, now stay that way for the next fourteen hours and do some kind of inscrutable separating of scallions from other scallions, and you too can be a Korean Vegetable-Sorter. What exactly is being sorted is not clear — half the time I'm not even sure what the vegetable is, much less what constitutes a good or a bad one — but I have learned that it's apparently best to sort your vegetables where they can soak up the absolute maximum of diesel exhaust. Barring that, subway steps are a good place to sort your veggies, because this location greatly increases the chances that they will be stepped on, and then you can do what Vegetable-Sorters do best (other than squatting and sorting vegetables): you can throw a complete screaming hissy fit. If I had to think of one situation that really made me wish I understood Korean, this might be it. These generally ancient women are capable of yelling and screaming with spectacular vehemence and stamina, going at it long after any possible positive result might be attained, and without any diminution in force or vigor. Most spectacular is a battle between two Vegetable-Sorters, which requires that each old lady continuously attempt to out-shout the other, and sometimes this descends into actual shoving matches. I have never seen such a battle end, and presumably they go on indefinitely.

These, then, are some of the wondrous peoples of Korea, whom I have seen with my own eyes and to whose existence I can attest with a clear conscience.