Me? An Adult?

It has come to my attention that somewhere along the line, somehow, for reasons best understood by someone much much smarter than I, that I have indeed turned into an adult. An adult! How the hell did that happen?

This process seems to have happened much earlier, and with more grace, for a number of my friends and family members. I have a few theories as to why my ‘maturity’ took a bit more time than it apparently for everyone else I know, but they are only theories.

I remember the moment I realized I was undeniably an adult; it was when I viewed my Alien Registration Card for the first time. The picture is horrid, ghastly I tell you; I look like a 30-something year old lunch lady, but that’s not what perpetuated this epiphany. It was the fact that I had done this thing, this seemingly insurmountable thing. I had moved to another country with 2 pieces of luggage, a camera, computer and ipod. Pretty much all of my possessions, minus a car I couldn’t give away – literally, I tried to give ol’ Boris to a friend in need, but they just shook their head is dismay, not that I can blame them. I think I’m the only one who can see the beauty in that beater.

I was on my way from careening through adolescence to surpassing young adulthood in record time when I experienced what can only be described as a colossal moment of self-doubt. Mind you, this moment lasted about 4 years. The certainty of my ability to live life was not only vague, but a complete fabrication. I don’t know anyone else who experienced this same phenomenon, so I have no one to compare my experience with, but imagine going to bed one night, rest assured that you are a talented, intelligent, hard-working kid and the world is your oyster, then, for some inexplicable reason, you wake up not only sure that the possibilities of life are just a pipe dream, but that all the people who have faith in your immeasurable talents are mistaken. Even liars.

It was one of those defining moments for me, one of the ‘before-and-after’ moments of my life. I’ve had a number of before-and-after moments that define intervals of time, but this one was devastating, and if for no other reason than I had no earthly idea what to do next.

So I did the only thing I knew how. I stayed in my regimen, worked at the same job, lived in the same place. I didn’t take any risks because the floor I had been so sure was just there, wasn’t, so why risk another monumental change of things I had previously thought were unchangeable? On more than one occasion the voice of Ellen Degeneres reverberated in my head.

Dory: “Hey Mr. Grumpy Gills. When life gets you down do you wanna know what you gotta do?”

Marlin: “I don’t wanna know what you gotta do.”

Dory: “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. What do we do? We swim, swim.”

Marlin: “Dory, no singing.”

Dory: “Ha, ha, ha, ho, ho. I love to swim. When you want to swim you want to swim.”

Marlin: “See I’m gonna get stuck now with that song... Now it’s in my head!”

Dory: “Sorry.”

Aw Pixar, leave it to you. So, that’s what I did, and somehow I got here. Korea? Well, yes Korea, but also, doing a job I love. Instructing. Buying a plethora of fruits and vegetables, making a budget and sticking to it. Establishing goals ranging from academic to financial. Thinking about the endless possibilities instead of the relentless impossibilities. And somehow, somewhere, I guess I became a member of the elite who refer to themselves as an adult, though I still find conversations about poo hilarious, and think that is entirely likely that I will continue to do so until the day I die. Because let’s face it folks, poo is funny, that’s all there is to it.

A Boy Named Tim

Most Koreans have English names, and this is about an encounter I had with Tim and his mom. I’ve been debating whether or not I should write about this particular event, because you see, it’s been a struggle for me to deal with and I am wary to put others through it as well. But if I am true to my word and indeed report on my experiences while teaching English in Korea, than this is a situation that needs to be told. After all, it is about cultural differences.

To start with, I think I should mention teachers in Korea have the power to practice corporal punishment, though, as a foreigner, I’m not expected to do so. That being said, if it is acceptable, and even promoted, for a teacher to strike a student, than you can well imagine what liberties parents may have with their own children.

The receptionist of Sky English Academy has 2 sons, Matthew who is 10, and Tim who is 8. Because my classroom is apart from the rest of the school, I rarely go into the lobby where the receptionist works, but a couple of weeks ago I did. As I walked through the sliding glass doors, I saw the receptionist pulling the hair of her youngest son. She roughly pulled his head from side to side, stopped, then did it again. Of course I was taken aback. I’ve never seen the receptionist angry. I’ve never seen a Korean teacher or parent physically punish a child before. And the force she pulled his hair seemed both extreme and excessive. But it didn’t stop there.

In the time it took me to enter the room, she had stopped pulling his hair and started to repeatedly slap and scratch his face. I can’t be sure if they were open handed slaps or not, nor can I be sure just how many blows he endured. By the time I reached the desk she had moved on to punching him in the stomach. I just stood there. Her back was to me, and the boy faced me. I stood there holding out the tests I had come to give her. I stood there and did nothing. Said nothing. I just stood there and watched. The boy looked at me, which notified his mom I was there. She turned, took the tests from my outstretched hands, smiled, and turned back around. I dazedly walked back toward my classroom.

Before I left the room I looked over my shoulder to see her kick the feet out from under him, where he fell and was no longer visible from behind the reception desk. I can’t be sure, but I think I she continued to kick after he fell.

I got to my classroom and my head was reeling. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. I wanted to make sense of that encounter, and more so, I desperately wanted to understand my complete lack of action. I turned around and went back to the lobby.

No one was there. I stood there once again, not saying anything, not doing anything. I became aware of the time and the fact that I had a class in a few minutes, so I walked back to my sanctuary. My classroom. There on the stairwell, was the little boy I later learned was named Tim. He was looking out the window, silently crying. He saw me and took off down the stairs. I followed him.

I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know how much English he spoke. I just said, ‘Wait. Wait.’ He did not wait. I caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs. I had no idea what to do or what to say. I had no idea what he could understand. I looked at his little face, tear stained, bloody lip, and scratched on the left side, and hugged him. It was clear he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want me to hug me. It was clear he had no idea where he wanted to be. So I just continued to hug him. I wanted to say something comforting to him, but as I said, I don’t teach him, I had no idea what his language skills were. So I said the simplest sentences I could think of.

‘You’re a good boy. I like you. You’re a good boy. I like you.’

I repeated that over and over. He eased up a little and said, ‘I’m okay.’ I went back upstairs and he left the building.

The rest of the day I was proctoring tests, which gave me time to obsess about what just happened. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what really disturbed me. First of all, the mom was not beside herself with rage. She was not inconsolable; she was not full of hatred or malice. She looked like she was performing just another mandatory parental task. Nothing more. Secondly, there was a Korean teacher less than one foot away from both mother and son. She did not look stunned as I was. She was nonplussed. I don’t know what disturbs me more about that.

After my day was done I called Mr. Shin and asked him to meet me at my classroom. I don’t know what I wanted him to say. Maybe I wanted him to explain why Koreans think it is okay to hit children or that her actions were unwarranted. He didn’t say much; mainly he listened to my account and reiterated the cultural differences between Americans and Koreans. I felt it was necessary for me to tell Mr. Shin that, A. I saw this happen and did nothing to stop it, and B. I hugged a student. I’ve never been told not to show affection with students, but beside an occasional high-five, I’ve never touched one of my kids before.

Even though I would have liked to write that I interceded and fought the just fight, I did not. I saw something I disagreed with and did nothing. My lack of action was not because I feared what would happen to my job. My immobility had nothing to do with understanding cultural differences. There was no thought process whatsoever. It’s important for me to say that.

It’s been a couple of weeks since this happened, and in that time period I have come to understand a few truths about the situation: If I had intervened I would have made the situation worse. Koreans are big on face, and if I had caused the mom to lose face, I think I would have made things worse. Actually, I know I would have made things worse. Also, when we act on a child’s behalf in the states, it is with the end goal to make things better for the child. If we witness child abuse, we contact children services and someone acts as a mediator. This is not the case here. If I had gotten involved, no one would look out for the little guy’s best interest. There would not be the slightest possibility an interpreter would have taken my statement and the boy would be removed from custody or the mother would be instructed to take parenting classes. There is not a system in place to protect children from the very thing that is not only permitted, but encouraged, in the classroom, let alone the home.

That being said, I do feel obliged to stress, none of those things prevented me from shielding the little guy. If, for some reason, I lose my job, there is another one a block away, and another a block away from that. My particular sets of skills are in high demand, and finding a job would so very easy.

I saw the little guy the next day, and he was his usual cheerful self. He popped his head into my classroom to say hello and goodbye, just as he always had. We’ve never spoken of that day.

I teach his brother, Matthew, and on more than one occasion I have wanted to strangle that kid. Generally, my students are well behaved, but Matthew has been disruptive since the beginning. He tends to act out, makes unwise decisions and doesn’t focus. If any good can come from this, it is having a better understanding about the root of Matthew’s behavioral issues. I since then have adapted my approach with him. Instead of being stern, as Mr. Shin would prefer, I praise and positively reinforce his appropriate behavior. And it’s paid off. He’s gotten better at focusing. He beams with pride when I praise him. He’s a good boy too, it’s just harder for me to see that.

Yesterday I started private lessons with Tim. That is how I learned his name. We have class once a week for an hour. He is a bright kid with a natural aptitude for English. He is polite and respectful, and outshines both his brother and mother in English. And it’s impossible not to smile when he says, ‘See you rater teacher.’ I know I am limited to help him with his home situation, but I can teach him English to the best of my ability and praise and commend him for an hour a week, so that’s something. I’m glad he’s my student.

Christmas in Korea

Hello and Merry Christmas to all! Thank you for your holiday wishes and love sent from afar. As you know, this was my first Christmas away from home, and on a whole, Koreans don’t really celebrate this holiday. I would compare experiencing Christmas in Korea to going to a Chinese Restaurant in the states, where the only patrons on Christmas day are Asians, Jews and Atheists, minus the Jews of course. Maybe there are Jews in Korea, I dunno, but that was the general atmosphere. Despite that though, I was able to get into the holiday spirit.

I made this card for you all, but unfortunately I have to take pictures with my computer and it reverses everything, so you can't read the message, which was so craftily created as an email. It says, 'dear friends and family, wishing you a merry christmas and a happy new year all the way from korea! i miss you all very much! lots of love, me' then i've put the mouse on the 'send' button. I thought it was clever.

My Aunt Joann sent me a wonderful care package full of her famous holiday Chex mix, and although I wasn’t eating it from the much loved green plastic container, it still had the same great taste. I had received her package a couple of days early, and although the wait nearly killed me, I decided to open it on Christmas day. Among the holiday snack that nearly put me into a diabetic coma (because I couldn’t stop eating it) were some cute stickers, a card of course, and pictures of the family; my nephew, little Bennett, isn’t so little anymore, nearing the towering age of 3 now! And I adapted a new loving title for the recent addition to our family: big fat baby Gabe. And I tell you, everything about that sentiment is correct. I don’t know how my cousins, Helina and Vaughn, still have a home, as it seems big fat baby Gabe would have eaten them out of it by now! The not so little guy is almost 3 months old and weighs over 20 pounds! To put this into perspective, Bennett is nearly 3 years old and weighs 30 pounds. It seems big fat baby Gabe’s hobbies include eating, sleeping, eating, pooping, eating, burping, eating and smiling. He and my cousin Jello would get along great!

I flicked through the tv some, and there were a variety of Christmas movies on, so a watched a bit of all of them, not having the ability to make decisions following my inhalation of the much loved holiday Chex mix. But I soon recovered my senses and remembered my intended outing to the movies, so away I went.

I ventured to the cinema by way of a taxi despite disastrous miscommunication efforts the last time I dared to do so. It was a new day and you gotta get back on that ol’ horse they call life. I’m not sure who ‘they’ are per say, but that’s beside the point.

I got to the theater around 5pm, but couldn’t get tickets for Avatar until 8:30, so I had some time to kill. It was at this time my body, more specifically my stomach, decided to remind me that although childlike tendencies are a healthy part of any well adapted adult, it was time to adequately feed this body of mine with sustenance and nutrients. So I walked about the main street looking for a ‘nicer’ restaurant that had tables and everything!

This street is like Times Square meets the Vegas Stripe meets what I would presume Tokyo would look like, having not been there I must rely on the accuracy of movies. The bright neon lights, speeding cars, and array of shops and boutiques ensnare the senses. I am convinced that Asia is just a mass collection of hair and nail saloons. Racists? Perhaps. But definitely true. Anyhoo, I walked from plaza to plaza with some holiday music to keep me company. Mind you, this wasn’t just any ol’ holiday music, these were the classics, ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,’ ‘Hark! The Harold Angels Sing’ and ‘Joy to the World’ to name a few. Wouldn’t it be so perfect if I had heard ‘We Three Kings of Orient Are?’ But what made these songs especially memorable was the fact that they were all blasting through the speakers in Korean. A nice little twist to make this an unforgettable Christmas.

I wanted to eat at a Korean BBQ, but having only eaten at a nice restaurant with Mr. Shin, I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated. But adventure is my middle name, well, actually it’s Pamela, though I often tell people it’s Penelope, but I digress. I went into a restaurant because the people inside looked cheerful and happy to be there, and I was in a cheerful mood and was certainly happy to be there, so it seemed to reason I should join the party.

The only problem was the staff didn’t speak English and the menus didn’t have pictures for my to point to. I stood awkwardly in the foyer waiting to be seated, but then remembered this isn’t the ‘Asian’ way. With the hoards of people in this continent, if you want to be noticed, you must take an active role for others to notice you. It is a queer site to observe. On a whole, my experience has shown me that Koreans appreciate not standing out in crowd, yet if you want to be waited on, or served, you must assert your presence in a noticeable way. It is something to see people be politely intrusive, an art form really, and one I’ve not yet mastered. So I stepped into the middle of the walkway and stood there awkwardly. Nothing happened. The waiters and waitress just walked around me. After a few minutes I decided maybe I would try a restaurant that wasn’t quite so busy, so abashedly I headed back to where my shoes were by the front door.

There was a patron there who asked me if I was meeting someone, ‘Uh, no.’ And he took pity on this foreigner who was clearly far from home, and on Christmas of all days, and rendered his services as both an interpreter and my friend. He asked me what meat I liked, told me the menu options for dining as one, and said farethewell, though he didn’t actually use that colloquialism. I ended up getting a sort of soup, though it was thicker than a soup, but not thick enough to be a stew. It was like a kimchi soup, with bean sprouts and pork and various other ingredients I have no ability to decipher. Along with this main dish came 8 side dishes. That’s right, count ‘em, 8! A salad, made entirely of cabbage, with a sugary mayonnaise-type dressing, a seaweed soup, kimchi in the form of loose cabbage and also as a cubed, I dunno, rhubarb? Can you cube rhubarb? I’m rubbish at identifying these vegetables. Also, there were some strips of, pork? I’m not sure, though I liked the salty taste, some rice of course, and a fried fish of some sort. I ate a bit of everything, though I must admit, my chopstick abilities need some work. I’m okay with wooden chopsticks, but these nicer restaurants use metal chopsticks, and I’ve not gotten the hang of the extra weight. But I sat in my corner, bum on the pad that was on the ground, sitting over a table that was maybe 18 inches tall, and people watched as I stuffed my face.

I wish I had some pictures for you, but my camera batteries are dead and I still have to find a new power converter since my cheap Chinese one caught on fire. But that is now on the top of my list of things to do, so I will be able to post pictures once again.

After dinner I went to E-mart to buy something for myself this holiday season, I tend to be a cheapskate when it comes to things I could do without. But it was Christmas and I though maybe I’d buy a toy, like a yo-yo or something. I know, I know, I’m closer to the age of 30 than I’ve ever been, I have my own apartment, I make more than enough to warrant an elaborate purchase of, let’s say, a cd, but I just wanted something little and fun. Well, E-Mart was a mad house! I later learned that is somewhat of a tradition for parents to take their children there to pick out one gift. The kids only get one gift here, and after they are about 10 years old, they don’t get any presents. They get gypt! Gypt I say!

I looked for a power converter, couldn’t find one, so I enlisted the help of a pimply teenage boy, who had a hard time translating my odd hand expressions, so he recruited the help of another pimply sales assistant. How do you sign converter? Of course I said, ‘power converter,’ along with ‘electricity, watts, voltage’ but those are all obscure English words. So I reduced my need to a series of hand gestures.

First I pointed at a plug, then said clearly, and with pride, as I pointed to myself, ‘American.’ Then I pointed to the plug and said, ‘Korea.’ ‘American’ and ‘Korean’ and made a giant X with my forearms. I have observed that this gesture is common for Koreans, signifying a range of interpretations, like; we don’t carry that, or, we are closed, or no homework. Generally speaking, the giant forearm X means no, so I applied it to this situation, as in, my American appliances are not compatible with Korean wattage. A look of dawning came across one pimply boy’s face who took me to the plug adaptor section. ‘Okay, we’re making headway, but no, I need a power converter, not just a plug adaptor.’ Blank stares. So I reverted back to wild gesticulation. I like that word, gesticulate, though for some odd reason it makes me think of the word testicle, but anyhoo, FOCUS!

So I point at a plug, then say, ‘American’ and then pretend like I am plugging in an imaginary appliance, then I go on to pretend that it has caught on fire. How I do this is by wrinkling my nose to indicate a foul smell, and wave the imaginary smoke away. Then the fire got bigger, which I demonstrated by pretending to burn my hand, wave it frantically from side to side and say ‘ouch, ouch,’ and kiss my burnt fingers. The fire is now consuming the building and I scream RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Which is a phrase all kids say, but when you think about it, that is actually a dire thing to yell, run for your life. Certainly not something that should be yelled in the excitement and endless possibilities of childhood. FOCUS!

I didn’t create the mass hysteria that ensued in this demented yet wonderful head of mine, but I did manage to convey my point. The one pimply boy turns to face the other pimply boy, and what do you imagine he said? (If you thought, ‘she’s crazy’ you get a gold star, but alas, no credit because that’s not the correct answer.) He said as clear as day, which is also an odd idiom if you think about it. I mean, there are plenty of days where I fumble around in apparent fog, but anyhoo, FOCUS! He said, ‘oh, converter.’ CONVERTER! Yes, I need a converter, that was the first word I said. Then he looks at me and makes a giant forearm X and says converter. Case closed.

So I went to look for a yo-yo or a paddle-ball or a cup-in-a-ball quaint toy that reminds me of the 50’s I never experienced, but got distracted my something shiny. I made my way, all will removed and being beckoned by shear instinct, to the necktie section of men’s apparel. There, glistening in holiday splendour, was my Christmas present to myself. A striped pink necktie, and for the screaming deal of 5,900 ₩, which is only $5!

Necktie clutched in my prepubescent boy hand, I paid and left the madness known as E-Mart. I took a cab back to the theater and watched a thoroughly entertaining film that lived up to all the hype and wonder of the spectacular special effects. A side note, all English movies have Korean subtitles, naturally, and when the movie speaks in a different language, I’m just out of luck, since there are no English subtitles. I’ve gotten rather skilled at interpreting the meaning in the actors words, and feel fairly certain that on more than one occasion, Sigourny Weaver herself was attempting to seduce me, but alas, that is another blog altogether.

After the movie I returned to my abode, played on the Internet some, read some thoughtful holiday emails, and waited for the proper time to call friends and family who had not yet celebrated Christmas. I spoke with my parents of course, my papa said Christmas wasn’t the same without me, which was oddly reaffirming, and my mom told me she missed me. I spoke to my Yia-yia and Papou, the latter being so hard of hearing he had no idea who he was speaking to until he handed the phone back to my Yia-yia and asked who I was. I should say we had an entire conversation up to that point. I asked him how he was and what he was going to do this Christmas day. He asked me how I was, said he missed me, and asked me how my family was. Maybe this should have tipped me off, you honestly, if you know my Papou, this just seemed like is usual quirky self. Once he realized I was speaking to me, he got back on the phone and started off with the notorious line that makes every family member cringe, ‘You wanna listen to me for a minute?’ As if we have any other choice, followed by inevitable phrase, ‘I bet you didn’t know that did ya?’ As if on queue, I respond, ‘No Papou, I didn’t.’

Soon it was time to sleep, so I put on the Christmas music my dear friend Sheena gave me, you know Sheena, my Indian friend (dot not feather) and drifted off while listening to Charlie Brown’s Christmas music. Of course I missed all of you, the 12 family members and precious friends who read this little blog of mine who comprise of my address book on my disconnected phone, but despite feeling homesick and a bit lonesome, I must say, my first Christmas away from home was pretty good. I am sad I didn’t get to hear my cousin Adam’s voice, he’s currently serving an LDS mission in Greece and got to call home on Christmas, but I have some very handsome pictures of him that will have to get me by.

And man o man do I look good in that pink necktie!

This Displaced American

Oh, hello. I didn't see you there. Well of course I didn't, you're halfway around the world aren't you? Or is it me who's a world away? Regardless, you startled me sneaking up like that. Shame on you.

Bare with me, I'm having one of those 'introspective' days.

Since this blog is about my experiences while living here in Korea, it makes sense to write of the moments when I think, rather loudly too, 'what the hell have I done?' These moments don't last very long, but they do exist. Sometimes I think, 'what other people consider brave really is just insanity isn't it? They may as well be synonyms in this crazy language we call English.'

So maybe it's time to announce the novelty of living in Asia has started to wear off and now it's the actual 'living' part I have to do. It was bound to happen, my 'pink cloud' so to speak, isn't quite the same color of hot pink it once was, but that's life I suppose.

I'm not homesick. Not yet. Of course I miss you all, all 12 people who read this little blog of mine, who happen to be primarily made of family :) but what I miss is the convenience of doing things a certain way. The familiarity of my life in Salt Lake.

For instance, I know how to work my washer and dryer at home. I also know where to buy fabric softener and have the privilege of eating food lovingly prepared for me. For me. Not by me. I don't have to wear a specific outfit when I go to a local cyber cafe because if I have to wash the smell of cigerette smoke out of one more outfit some innocent bystander just may suffer the consequences, but then again, I wouldn't be at a cyber cafe because I wouldn't have had a wattage issue with my non-existent power converter and thus my computer would be working just fine.

This is where my head has been, and you know what they say about that neighborhood up there, so I decided today was going to be a self-indulgent, 'I-miss-the-simplicity-of-my-idealized-American-life' day. And so the adventure began.

I've been told there are 2 theaters in town, one over the river and one by E-Mart. 'HEY! I know where E-Mart is!' I thought, so after a leisurely afternoon and following a lengthy hot shower, I made my way the in the general direction of thataway. And would you believe it? I found that theater by sheer dumb luck, along with discovering the location of a nearby grocery store and the post office! How much more American can that be? Knowing where to get all my grocery needs met under a single roof and then mail a post card or two less than a block away? Already, my self-indulgence was turning out promising.

One minute I was deftly looking out the window of the honorable bus 0, and the next, I was climbing the stairs to the theater I'd never spotted prior to that exact moment. 5 stories later, I know, who's ever heard of a theater being on the 5th floor? I got in line to purchase my first movie theater ticket in Korea, followed by a nice recognizable VitaminWater. Ah, the comforts of home.

Standing in both lines taught me the dangers of having a larger bubble than Koreans. While I was in college, I remember discussing cultural differences, such as personal space. On a whole, Americans person bubble is 3 feet in circumference from our bodies, Germans have a 2 foot bubble, and Koreans, well, sometimes it feels like it doesn't even exist. I've noticed this with my students. Anytime we play a game I can guarantee that before too long all the students will be hovering less than 1 foot away from the white board, and myself, shouting as loudly as if they were in a high traffic area. It makes sense though, the shear number of people here make it necessary to quietly, yet politely, assert your presence while in public. Needless to say, I learned to close the gap between me and the those in front of me or else I'd be butted in line yet again.

I bought tickets for the 3pm showing of 2012. It was 2:45, great, plenty of time to look at the posters of other movies playing. 'Hmmm, there seems to be 5 movie advertisements here yet I only see 3 doors, well I'm sure that's just an over site on someone else's part,' I calmly think. So I wait. And wait. And now it's 3:05 and it's clear that I have misread or misunderstood something because the theater I enter has been playing the movie for the last hour. Well, what could I do? Nothing really, after all, I was out to enjoy my day, so I started watching the movie halfway through it. I figured it wasn't one of those kinds of movies that require extensive storyline/character development, which is precisely why I wanted to see it. Nothing screams 'American' like this blockbuster's wet dream. And being as clever as I am, in no time at all I was completely caught up the complex situation of the world coming to an end.

And then, uh oh, gotta pee. Here is a sample of the inner conundrum I was experiencing: 'Shoot. I'll just hold it.' 'No, go pee.' 'But I'm at the very end. The hero is about to make the ultimate sacrifice, his life. I can't leave now.' 'Well I already know he saves them, I mean, how else could this predictable script end? Just go pee.' 'NO! I got here late, I'm not leaving early too.' 'Fine, I'll just pee right here then.' 'I wouldn't!' 'Oh but I would.' 'Fine! I'll go pee.' And wouldn't you know it, the line in the girls bathroom was a kilometer long? 'I don't have time to waste!' 'So go pee in the boys bathroom.' 'Uh, well... okay.' It was tricky squatting over that urinal let me tell you, but I was on a mission... now back to the show!

By and by, not too bad. I wished I had seen the dynamic first half, but overall, it was an enjoyable experience. After the movie I decided to check out what video games they had downstairs, and lo'n'behold, theaters 4 and 5! 'Ahhhhh, okay, that makes sense now, I went into the wrong theater,' but even knowing my mistake, when I reread my movie ticket written entirely in Korean, I could not decipher that correction. 'Oh well, I guess I'll just see the first half of the film now.' And that's what I did. Who needs a conventional movie experience anyway? Not me that's for sure.

After the movie I made my way down 5 flight of stairs and thought, 'gee, I'm hungry, and for some reason it's changed my inner dialogue into this even cheesier version of an old Andy Griffith Show.' And what's more American than a cheeseburger I ask? 2 cheeseburger I dare say! But I only had one, which was one too many as it turned out, but who cares? I think, as I stumble to the bus stop. I've had a thoroughly enjoyable experience today, doing exactly what I wanted and now that I think on it, I realize I didn't mention the smell of the day. It smelled like fall. The fall we have at home. It smelled like home the entire time I outside, or at least the entire time I was aware of my senses. It was so bitter cold at night that if I kept my mouth open, the coldness of the night air made the nerves in my teeth hurt. Honest, that's how cold it was, it made my teeth hurt.

And even though I never spotted another foreigner, saw the movie in a rather ass-backwards way, and the hamburger joint was rubbish and served Pepsi instead of Coke, it was a great day to indulge in a truly American way of life.

This Morning

Even though I've been griping about my apartment as of late, I really do love it. What I especially love are the sliding doors, I often have one or both doors cracked to allow fresh air in. I didn't know how much I enjoy sleeping with a cool breeze until this month. Not moving air, not a fan, but a cool steady wind. At home in Salt Lake, my room is in the basement, and if I open the itty-bitty window I'll likely die from some Brown Recluse spider bite or something equally as dreadful. Until now, I've only slept with a breeze while camping, so I love that my bed is near the doors so I can cuddle under a blanket while the wind blows over me.

Lately I've been waking up around 6am, I know right? And while I lie in bed I just listen. I'm off the main street enough to hear other sounds besides traffic. Sometimes I hear people clopping up and down the stairs in my apartment building. Sometimes I hear the hard-of-hearing older couple who live within earshot of my window trying to communication over a seemingly large expanse. Always I hear the rooster that has become a sound of comfort rather than the nuisance he once was -- it's like living near train tracks, at first you can't stand the shaking and rumbling, and then you find you can't sleep without it. This morning I heard a neighbor washing clothes in a basin with what sounded like a washing board, whistling the occasional out-of-pitch melody. I laid in bed slowly becoming aware of my body and surroundings. It was a great way to wake up.

Mornings like today makes me think of the nature of my day and life. The moments of serenity and anxiety I experience daily. The people I think and care about. Mornings like today ensure my continual struggle to understand and to be understood are worthwhile endeavors, and that some moments, like today, make the challenge of living an unremarkable life, well, remarkable.

In high school I had an English teacher who instilled a love of lists in me -- making them, reading them, crossing them off, basically, everything to do with them. In honor of Mrs. Bean, my quirky and lovable 10th grade English teacher, I am inspired to make such a list (or two.)


Moments of serenity in my day:

waking up feeling rested
stepping on the heated floor of my bedroom for a middle-of-the-night pee
drinking milk directly from the container
laughing aloud while I'm alone because the book I'm reading is that funny
washing my dishes while listening to Michael Jackson
the fresh minty taste in my mouth after I brush my teeth
seeing my 'morning hair' every morning
the clucking of nearby hens attempting to seduce my unknown rooster friend
separating my trash into the different recycling bins
walking up the stairs to my apartment after work
unlocking the door to my apartment
paying bills
an 'inbox' with messages waiting for me to read
catching a program in English on t.v.
waking free of back pain
wool socks on a bitter cold day


Moments of anxiety in my day:

waking up tired and unrested
stepping on a water soaked bathroom floor from my shower the night before
remembering that I've forgotten to take my anti-depressant
touching public surfaces
having to wear slippers at work when my feet are cold
plucking my eyebrows
not having the option to bathe instead of shower
thinking of debt
an empty 'inbox'
naughty students and being forced to conjure some sort of disciplinary action
seeing a double-chin in my reflexion
not knowing how to read my boss
waking with a kink in my neck because my mattress and pillows are rubbish

My Bid for Freedom

Just a quick update...

I have the Swine flu and am officially in isolation which wouldn't be so bad if I had a working computer, but due to a faulty power converter (a.k.a. Chinese piece of crap) I nearly had an electrical fire in my apartment. Luckily was home when the outlet started to pop and smoke, unluckily my computer was plugged into it. I hope to order a new power cord from the Seoul Apple store next week when I reintegrate with society.

On Monday I went with the masses to the hospital to be poked and proded and given medicine for the Swine flu. The Swine isn't so bad, just a cold that makes you tired and poop a whole lot, but it's become an epidemic in Asia and they are trying to keep it from mutating and killing loads of people like SARS did a couple of years ago. Hence my isolation.

So for the last 4 days I have spent every moment in my studio apartment. I used to think it was a decent size... It wouldn't be so bad if I had the Internet. Life without the Internet is barely worth living. No kidding. But as I have found myself without my trusty Mac, I have no way to watch movies, listen to music or call friends/family while under the influence of Ambien. What's a kid to do? I've been watching a lot of Korean t.v., it's actually not too bad either.

I've been watching a lot of the Olympic-qualifying Games, naturally I cheer for Korea and hope the Japanese fall on their butts -- on a whole, Koreans don't much care for the Japanese. I'm also privy to the nature shows, which are hilarious in another language. Lately I've been narrating the footage of National Geographic, and I tell you, I amaze myself with how witty I am! Too bad no one is around to appreciate the depths of my hilarity. There are also plenty of infomercials to keep me entertained, just imagine American infomercials on crack. I've never seen people so excited to mop!

Luckily you can always count on catching an episode The Simpson's regardless of what country you are in. It plays 2x a day here. There are also plenty of Steven Segall and Martin Larewence films to be had by all, though it does make me question the nature of torture. I was elated beyond all reason when I found Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, I called my friend Val to tell her what I was going to watch next. Really, I did.

So how am I writing this, you may wonder. Well, I've made a bid for freedom. I have infiltrated a cyber-cafe less than one block from my apartment. Incidently it is the only facility in all of Korea that allows smoking inside. I am tempted to cough on random smokers to teach them an important public health lesson: 'if you smoke, you get the Swine.' It just may be the detterant they need.

Well, perhaps I should sneak back to my apartment, the smell of cigerette's and Axe is getting to me. I will write a proper post once I get my computer up and running.

Rots of Rove

My first bus ride

I haven’t ridden the bus yet, and, incidentally my fridge is beyond bare, so I thought I would utilize my unexpected day off to shop at E-Mart, the Korean equivalent of Walmart. I’ve been there one other time, it’s in the city next to Andong, called Octdong, Mr. Shinn took me.

I knew it was in the general direction of, well, I don’t know my east from west yet, but I know it’s over there, and I see buses all over the place so I figured I would get on one and find E-Mart. Some may be wondering, but how? This was my grand plan. Somehow I was going to find this grocery store, fill up my little cart on wheels, and get back to my apartment before dark.

I waited at a bus stop and got on the first bus that came by. Then I looked out the window. My little shopping cart was by my feet and I had about $10 cash on me,the last $10 cash I have I should add. I’m not out of money, just out of cash. My ATM card still won’t withdraw.

When I went to E-Mart the one other time we drove in a car. As it turns out, cars and random buses drive different routes. And all the streets look the same. At least in the Europe I could recognize letters, though I couldn’t read the language. I only recently started to use characters with circles to my benefit.

It soon became clear I have no idea how far Octdong is. I’d been riding for about 25 minutes when I start to question this grand plan of mine. Well, as long as we’re being honest here, really I started wondering if this was going to work out when I forgot my ipod, and my dear friend Jim Dale – I’ve been thinking of petitioning for his Canonization next time I get to Rome

Now I’ve lost count how many times we’ve turned left, and I think we’ve gone too far East, or whatever direction, when I spot in the distance, yep, you guessed it, E-Mart! The only problem is, I don’t know how to stop this bus. There’s no draw-cord, no brightly colored button, an arrow to pull my eye on way or another. There’s got to be a way to get off this bus other than thrusting myself out of a 2 inch window! And then I spot it, the subtle grey push bottom that means my cabinets may be full tonight.

Did you spot it? The E-Mart sign? I nearly missed it myself.

I stride off the bus as if I have performed some minor miracle, and for all intents and purposes, perhaps I just did. I’m strolling down the sidewalk with my little cart hot on my heals, my shoulders back and head held up high with pride. I did it. I rode a bus. And I got to my destination through nothing but observation and sheer dumb luck.

I walk through the automated doors and see the regular-sized shopping carts. Not knowing which to use, I place my knee-high cart inside the cart and begin my career as a personal shopper. One problem though, I have to pay for the shopping cart. It never occurred to me to remove my little cart and just shop with that, I guess I didn’t want shopkeepers to think I was putting store items in my personal cart. I paid the man his 100 won coin, disinfected the handle of the cart, and away I went.

It’s not a large store, but you wouldn’t know that by how long it took me. I found the cheese section, but I wanted parmesan cheese, and having seen it at a pizza joint I know it exists here, so I politely say excuse me to a grocer, in English of course because I can’t be bothered to learn the native language, English only applies to foreign countries too after all, and point to the cheese, then gesture shaking cheese out of a parmesan bottle and make the sound ‘chk chk chk.’ A look of comprehension came over her and she helped me look, but alas to no avail. So being a helpful local grocer, she enlisted the help of her fellow co-worker by repeating my shaking gesture and ‘chk chk chk.’ That grocer knew exactly what and where my desired item was, and hence, one less thing for me to find.

What other items did I buy you may be asking yourself? Well, keep in mind my little shopping cart doesn’t hold much more than a grocer basket, but it looked a lot smaller sitting stupidly inside the larger cart. I will say, as a general rule of thumb, I often get stares in public, mostly from the elderly. Perhaps they’ve never seen a white person, maybe they imagine I am contaminated with the swine, or HBO2 or whatever they’re calling now, but I got more stares in the grocery store with my cart inside my cart than on any sidewalk. I did walk away with a box of almond granola cereal, 100 mg of milk ( I dunno, less than half a gallon?) a bag of tangerines, a container of kiwi, some fresh kimchi, crab, grape jelly, lemon juice, dumplings, orange juice, pineapple juice and eggs. Oh ya, and a bunch of banana’s, not because I like banana’s, though I do, but because if you eat a banana before bed it stimulates your dreams and they are CRAZY! CRAZY BANANA DREAMS! I have a number of novel ideas from crazy banana dreams. Anyway, all that food for only 88 wons, or $74.

The return leg of this venture is easier than the initial go around. I waited for the same bus number, 0, and someone helped me get my cart inside the bus. I smiled as I recognized previously unrecognizable streets and promptly got off the right exit just before the sun set. So how do you like them apples?

I am completely aware that only I could get on a random bus with a specific destination in mind with very limited resources, and execute the plan so seamlessly that it was destined to succeed before it began. That’s just how I roll, fast and loose, or is it puckered and withdrawn? Dunno, but the point is, through a serious of improbably occurances, I got exactly what I aimed for, a full fridge. And there you have it.

I survived my first week teaching!

This is a picture of my classroom, without all the student of course.

I knew one day I might become a working professional. It was inevitable I suppose. I was bound to be referred to as Ms. Miller, Ma’am, hey you, but I never imagined my professional identity would be ‘teacher.’

My students are great! They range in ages 5 – 16 with varying abilities in English. I enjoy working with the jr. high students most; they’re boisterous and clever. I have a few classes maxed out with 10 students, which may not seem like a lot, but it’s more than enough when they’re rowdy.

I tutor both of Mr. Shinn’s kids, a 5-year-old boy without an English name, and his 12-year-old daughter Julia. I failed to mention who Mr. Shinn was in my last blog, but you probably surmised he’s my boss, the director of Sky English Academy.

His son is really playful and enjoys spelling and touching me with his sticky hands. In this picture he's really excited by a dragonfly Mr. Shinn is holding. He’s a rambunctious little guy, and when he wants to play a game he says, ‘ready... set...’ then something in Korean. Could it be ‘go?’ He already knows all his letters and the sounds they make, so really my job is just to play with him and teach him new English words. We did purple, family and bugs, and then crawled around on the floor pretending to be different bugs (grasshopper, bumblebee, butterfly etc.) It was a fun tutorial.

Julia has studied abroad for 2 years so her English is probably better than mine. Her accent is British, which is a load off for me since she can distinguish r/l’s. It’s hard to believe she’s lived in 2 other countries and is only 12, and this is my first time away from home and I’m nearly 30. I dont have the heart to tell her I hated Twilight, so I pretend to know what she talks about.

All in all, I really enjoy my students. The girls giggle a lot and the boys like to show off. They are exactly like Americans, except perhaps better educated. Every student goes to school from 8:30-3, then go to ‘academy.’ English academy is normally 3 days a week, though they may have another academy for math or science. I even have a few students in an academy to read Korean fast.

Funny things happen in class all the time, the latest was last night. We were reading a lesson about different wedding celebrations and one of the discussion questions were, what do the bride and groom do after the wedding? I paused for a moment thinking the answer couldn’t possibly be what I thought. A few of the girls started to giggle at this, then one of the boys said, ‘teacher, you turn red.’ It was my turn to laugh. As it turns out, the question was referring to the honeymoon.

I had an evaluation with Mr. Shinn at the end of the week. It consisted of me proofreading a couple of essays and discussing how my classes are going. I think they are going well, so that’s what I said. He agreed. The students have told him I am a good English teacher they enjoy my class, and he’s overheard his daughter and her friends saying good things about me. Phew! What a relief!

Over the weekend I went to lunch with Mr. Shinn and his family at a traditional Korean barbeque restaurant. It was amazing! I didn’t care if it was dog, it tasted so good (though I was told it was beef ribs.) I think the Shinn’s like eating with me because I’m not afraid of spice. Or domesticated animals for that matter.

I’ve explored my neighborhood a bit more. Every time I walk pass the fish market, I think, ‘one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish...’ Walking through the markets is a photographers dream come true!

And no food market would be complete without....

Annyeong!

That is the extent of my Korean language skills right there, and I had to look up had to spell it for this blog. So I'm here, after what seems like forever, I have arrived to Andong South Korea to begin teaching English. I've been here for a few days now and tomorrow is my first day teaching! I'm really excited and a bit nervous.

I only had 8 hours notice before my flight left, but luckily I had been planning on leaving so the short notice wasn't a bother. The flight to San Fran was only 1.5 hours, which was offset by the 12 hour flight to Seoul. From Seoul I took a bus to East Seoul, 1.5 hours, and connected with another bus to Andong, arriving 3 hours later. Needless to say Tuesday was a long day.

At the bus depot a cabbie tried to take me to my destination. There were a number of issues with this, beginning with my inability to tell him I have a ride. Besides that I had no idea where I was going. He tried to lift my luggage but since the bag matched his weight his attempts were futile. I tried to tell him no thank you, but he just kept speaking louder. I wondered how many times I'd done this to foreigners.

Mr. Shinn picked me up shortly after, which was reassuring since I didn't have an address or a phone number and it was 2am. He drove me to my apartment and bade me goodnight, but only after showing me the few things he had personally picked up for my comfort, which included toilet paper, 2 beers, a new comforter, a cellphone and random food he apparently brought from home (half a bottle of olives, a bit of cream cheese, condiments at various stages of consumption, etc.) It was rather sweet. He asked me if I had any Korean money, and I didn't, so he pulled out his own wallet and started to give me money. I didn't accept it, politely of course, but I wonder if that was offensive. There's a lot to a high context society I don't understand.

I spent the rest of the early morning unpacking and cleaning my apartment. I had expected it to be much smaller than it is, which is always a nice surprise. And of course no space is complete without photos!

It's taken a few days to get used to this new time zone, after all I am 15 hours ahead of Utah. I never thought I'd say it, but I struggle to stay awake until 10pm!

I've ventured out through my neighborhood a few time now. It's a funny thing seeing Hyundai buses, pretty much the definition of an oxymoron right there. There are street venders for fruits, vegetables and fish throughout the nearby streets. Once I get access to cash I'll establish my fruit guy and the like, but for now I have to use my debit card at proper stores because my card won't withdraw cash for some reason.

On Friday I went for my physical, I need one for my alien registration card. I went to the hospital and in 45 minutes I had a dental check up, blood drawn, a hearing test, a chest x-ray, peed in a cup and consulted with a doctor. Now that's efficiency! I'll get my card in a couple of days, which is good because I can't open a bank account here without it. I still can't believe I'm an immigrant!

After the medical exam Mr. Shinn took me to the school and showed me my classroom. It's massive, it's the largest room in the school. My classes are small, 3-10 students, and I tutor Mr. Shinn's 5 year old son and 12 year old daughter. Talk about intimidating!

Mr. Shinn then took me to a traditional Korean restaurant, I had to take my shoes off and everything! We sat on the floor on big pillows and there were about 30 dishes brought to the table over the course. They were small portions, but quite the variety. I tried everything and liked nearly all of it. I think this surprised Mr. Shinn because the last couple of foreign teachers have been British and they have a rubbish sense of taste, the blandest food on the planet is British, so they couldn't appreciate the spice like I did. There were some traditional dishes, like spiced pork and beef served with brine shrimp, and vegetables I've never seen with meat I probably don't wanna know, but thanks to my Uncle Andy I could easily identify and enjoy the kimchi.

The rest of my week has been spent getting acclimated to both the course work and my environment. There's this rudy rooster that keeps waking me up at 6am every morning, and at first it was rather novel and funny, but now I just want someone to eat him already! I had a mission to find him this morning and strangle him with my own hands, but then I put on some music and he started crooning in rhythm, so I've decided to spare his life for the day. But I can't promise anything for tomorrow.

Today I walked around downtown Andong, which is only a 15 minute walk from my apartment. I had some fried octopus tentacle, well, I'm pretty sure that's what it was, and a crab leg on a stick. It's hard conveying what I want without being completely offensive. How do I indicate what I want without language and without pointing? I've settled on an open-handed gesture. I learned I point way too much for my own good, not that anyone was been upset with me. Koreans have to be some of the nicest people I've ever met.

I was thinking I should learn my address and phone number quick because if I got lost that would be it for me. I know a general outlay of the city, but really, I have no clue what I'm doing right now. I do know the place I like to go to for pineapple juice however, so I guess that's better than nothing. Mmmmm, pineapple juice.

The city is interesting, I'll be walking along a busy street then come across a food market or park. I'm glad I came here instead of Seoul, it's big enough to keep my interest, but not so massive I don't shake leaving my front door. But oh my gosh, I thought I was going to die from heat today, it was really humid.

I'm really pleased with the two shoots above.

Okay, so if I keep blogging I'm gonna die, so I'll just part with this; while I was shopping I came across a comic store and as I was looking through the puzzles I saw this and giggled out loud. If you've enjoyed this blog be sure and let me know, if you haven't, well, don't read anymore. Over and out.