The other day, I woke up, dragged myself out of bed, and walked down the one flight of stairs to the gym. In the locker room, there is a restaurant, and it smelled particularly fishy that morning. Some restaurants in Korea have this smell, and it makes me want to vomit. When I smell it, it feels like I am in a dark closet and all of the oxygen has run out. The oxygen is replaced with this heavy, musty fish smell, and I can't breathe. I don't know how a smell can make me feel claustrophobic, but it does. In the instant that awful odor hit my nose, I hated Korea. This happens from time to time. In a moment, I am tired of being in a foreign country. I am tired of the kimchi and the people speaking a different language. Most of all, I am tired of being far away from my family and friends in the US. The majority of the time, I love Korea. I love the language, the people, the culture. I love being in a different place where I witness another way of life. I love my life, but these moments where I despise Korea slip in sometimes.
In more cheery news, I got a pet cat. Another teacher left, and I inherited his cat. He is pretty cute (the cat not the other teacher), but I have never had a cat in a studio apartment before. The cat (who has yet to be named) likes to tear around the room and has taken to finding plastic bags and ripping them into miniscule pieces. Plastic bags, as you may know, make an immense amount of noise, especially when someone is trying to sleep. The cat (I really need to come up with a name) also enjoys staring at his reflection and meowing at it. The cat is noisy, but it's nice to have something to come home to in my apartment.
