The Brilliance of My School

Sometimes I question the intelligence of people around me. I often question my school. Frequently, things happen that make me wonder who thought this was a good idea? My favorite example of a lack in logic was the construction of a plexi-glass wall in between the teachers' room and the rest of the office. All of the teachers are squeezed into one room, which is packed full of desks. At one of our useless Tuesday meetings, we were informed that there would be some construction taking place the following weekend, but not to worry, it would not disrupt us in the slightest. The construction was to make the upper half of the wall plexi-glass. This would cosmetically enhance our school. Oh yeah, they would also be moving the wall back two feet, thus reducing the size of the already small teachers' room (this part was muttered as an afterthought). Well, the construction began on Friday morning, and it was earsplittingly loud. It was sort of disruptive because it we still had to teach on Friday. Also, all of the Korean staff had been displaced into hallways and the computer room, which several classes needed to use to take tests on the computers that day. Also, they unplugged and took away all but one of the teachers' computers, which is where the tests and handouts we need to teach our classes are stored. Oh yeah, and all of the photocopiers, except one that was broken, disappeared. The broken photocopier was then plugged in outside of the teachers' room. After a few hours, all of the teachers were rounded up to help move the desks out of the way for the construction. I was annoyed at being "not disrupted" by the construction, but I laughed it off, thinking it would only be for one day. However, the construction lasted another week or two, but don't worry, it wasn't disruptive at all. Just like the time when a mysterious man came into my class to use his electric screwdriver to fix things during the middle of my class. Using power tools isn't loud at all. Sometimes I feel like I am supposed to teach an obedient class in the middle of a circus tent. "Oh no, kids. Just ignore the juggling bears and listen to my enthralling lecture on American history." The chaos almost drives me to insanity, especially when it is over something as silly as half of a plexi-glass wall that, in my opinion, didn't make the room look any better. Especially when the Korean staff stacked shelves up to the ceiling on their side. Now the teachers have a wonderful view of the back of cheap cabinets. I don't know about you, but I don't find the sight of particleboard stapled together to be pleasing. What was wrong with the wall that we had before? Who thought that this was a good idea?



Along with the utterly useless plexi-glass wall, we got a glass door that doesn't open because of the piles of crap shoved in the way. To my knowledge, no one has ever gone through this doorway.

I Think I'm Getting Weirder and Dumber

People who come to Korea fall into two basic categories. There are the people who are running from something, and then there are the social rejects. People running from things include the guy who told Ariel and me in our first conversation with him, "Yeah, I wore out my welcome at home." By this, he meant going to rehab eight times for cocaine. The other category includes those people who are so awkward that they don't really know how to have friends. We are talking Napolean Dynamite style, never had a girlfriend, wearing a pocket protector, watching Battlestar Galactica. These wonderful people are brought together in Korea. Sometimes I wonder which of these groups I fall into. Well, I don't have a drug problem, but I don't play Dungeons and Dragons. I like to think that I am one of the few "normal" people in Korea, but some people may disagree with me on that. Anyway, in Korea, you are friends with the people around you because they speak English, not because you actually chose to be their friends. In a way, it's good because it teaches you how to be friends with different types of people, but there is a downside. Ariel and I have decided that there is a spectrum of weirdness in Korea that applies to all foreigners. On one end are the real weirdos, and on the other end are Ariel and me (a.k.a. the anomaly of normal people). In order for the two ends to hang out, we must meet somewhere in the middle. This is good for the weirdos because they become more normal, but unfortunately, the normal people become more awkward.

I believe that there is another unfortunate spectrum in my life right now, which I like to call the Dumbness Scale. It is much like the Weirdness Spectrum, only it measures intelligence. I like to think that I am on the smarty pants side of the scale, but again, this may be disputed. Many of the people that I am around throughout my day are on the other side of the scale. There is the scheduling woman who isn't sure how to count. When Ariel pointed out her mistake, she replied,"Oooohhhh, it goes 1,2,3, not 2,3,1." Or there is the girl who forgot to wear a jacket the day after it snowed. "I just forgot to wear one," she explained to me in the freezing temperatures. And then there are the kids I spend my day with at school. "Teacher! Cold!" means The air conditioner is on too high. Would you please turn it off? Sometimes it's not just the language barrier that makes me crazy. I explain the exact same thing everyday in my writing class: how to write a four paragraph TOEFL essay. I have explained it different ways. I have shown them examples. I have made them practice. I have been doing this for months. Do you think that they write four paragraph essays? No, they don't. I say the same things over and over, and they never seem to get it.

So when I come home, I may have changed a bit. I may not be a sharp as I once was. I may stand awkwardly in a group of people, not knowing what to say. I may forget to use articles when I speak. I may over-explain everything. Hopefully, the effects will not be permanent.

Miscommunication

Sometimes communication can be difficult in a foreign nation, especially when you don't learn to speak the native language. My Korean is so bad that I can't say much more than "How much is this?" Since I can only say about three sentences and understand maybe five sentences in Korean, the conversation has to continue in English if we ever want to get beyond "I am a teacher." This does not work well if the other person speaks as much English as I do Korean. Often I just talk to people in English while they respond in Korean, neither of us knowing what the other said. This situation is acceptable if you are talking to the taxi driver or waitress, but other situations can turn disastrous. When I try to explain a problem with my schedule to a Korean staff at my school, the schedule inevitably comes back wrong about five times before I stop trying to explain the problem and decide to ignore it. I suppose it is my fault for being in Korea and not learning the language, but I do work at an English academy. One would think that they would hire English speaking staff. While most of the miscommunication I experience here is due to the language barrier, I experienced a different kind of miscommunication on Friday. It was the kind of miscommunication where you think back to what someone said, and you think to yourself She totally lied to me!

I went to a dermatologist for rosacea. Rosacea is what makes my face red. Basically, the blood vessels are too close to the skin. I've tried lotions and prescriptions before, but I decided to look into laser surgery, thinking it would be cheaper in Korea. The doctor spoke English, and we talked about it for a while. She made it seem like it wouldn't be a big deal so I decided to try it. She told me I could start right then and there. I told her that I needed to be at work in a couple of hours, and she reassured me that it was ok. The only warning that she gave me was, "You will be a little red." Remember that quote because this is what I feel lied to about. So I went ahead and had the laser treatment done. It felt like a lot of little bee stings. When I stood up to leave, I looked in the mirror and noticed that my face wasn't "a little red." It was covered in purple bruises. I had spots like a leopard, and I had to go teach children. Deciding that bandages on my face looked better than the spots, I tried to look inconspicuous. I told my students that my cat attacked me in the middle of the night. The doctor lied to me, so I lied to the kids. Maybe it's not lying, maybe I just miscommunicated the information.

I wonder what will happen next...


My school has gone a bit crazy. Not a good kind of crazy, but a weird kind of crazy. It all started because enrollment was down. My personal theory of why enrollment is down is that people are not stupid, and they realize that the teaching our school requires us to do is ineffective. Making kids memorize over a hundred words a day is not realistic. Having kids use college textbooks when they are in fifth grade is ridiculous. Any normal person could see that these methods of teaching are not going to work. Any normal person would realize this. However, the owner is not normal. His theory for the low enrollment is that we don't make the kids sit up straight in class. Yes, that is right. Good posture = learning. Nevermind that these kids go to school for 12 hours a day and on average sleep 4 hours a night. The slouching kids are not just tired, they are disrespectful brats who aren't paying attention. The owner is fixated on this slouching theory. He has gone so far as to make part-time workers go around and check that the kids are sitting up straight. If there is unacceptable posture in a classroom, they come in and yell at the kids (in Korean). The part-timers also get the super redundant job of checking the kids' homework (as teachers, we check the homework also and already fill out a sheet of who didn't do their homework). So maybe 3-4 times in a 45 minute class, the part-timers barge in and bark Korean at the students. This is supposed to make our teaching more effective. I am starting to think that there is no word in Korean for "effective," and that is why my boss can't seem to figure out what effective is. On the other hand, I think that the part-timers have an inkling. Normally, they just shut up, do their job, and collect the $2/hour that they make under the table. That all changed last night when they were told that they had to wear some silly arm badge that said "English Only." One part-timer refused (I can't blame him. I wouldn't be humiliated for $2/hr). The owner promptly called the obstinate worker into his office and fired him. I picture the scenario in my head (but I imagine it happening in English which I know is not a reality). The owner yells in a rage that someone would have the audacity to disobey him. The part-timers stands there with a smirk. Finally, the owner throws in a few more choice words and points a finger at the door. The part-timer saunters out the door without looking back. As an added bonus, the other part-timers realize that one of their kind just got fired over an armband and follow him out the door, throwing down half-graded tests and meaningless papers. That is how I picture it going down, but I am sure it wasn't as heated as I imagine because I am in Korea, where people are normally too polite to quit. They have to ask for permission to leave. I know that the guy was fired on the spot, and I know that the other part-timers quit and walked out. What I don't know is what will happen next. Now there is no one to yell at the kids for slouching. How will the students ever learn without the added discipline of 19 year old Korean boys interrupting my class every five minutes?

How much kimchi can you eat?


When kids write essays about traditional Korean stuff, they often write about kimchi. In case you don't know (just as I didn't before I decided to move to Korea), kimchi is spicy fermented cabbage. It is eaten constantly in Korea. My students ask if I know what kimchi is, which is a ridiculous question because it is eaten at every meal in Korea. You can't go to a restaurant and not have them grab for the large tupperware and dish out kimchi into a bowl. It doesn't matter what you are eating, you get some sort of kimchi. There are actually many kinds of kimchi, and they are each served on their own little dish. A typical Korean meal involves a table covered in small dishes. I would hate to be a dishwasher in Korea, and oddly enough, most people don't have an automatic dishwasher in their homes. As usual, I am going off on a tangent. Back to the importance of kimchi in Korean culture. Koreans love the stuff. Kimchi is eaten with all kinds of food. Our Korean "mom" serves us kimchi with spaghetti, cookies, and pretty much everything we eat at her home.


Yesterday, we had the delight of making kimchi with Korean "mom." Of course, before making kimchi, we had to eat brunch. In case you are wondering what brunch means in Korea, it was kimchi (of course), rice, meat, broccoli, oysters, peanuts, and eggs. It's not what I would normally think of when someone says the word "brunch," but hey, I am in Korea. After eating, we sat on the newspapers laid out on the floor and got to work. Korean "mom" busted out a huge tub of salty red pepper paste and garbage bags (yes, that is plural, there was more than one bag) of salted cabbage. At first, Paco and I were only observers because we "might get clothes dirty." We watched as "mom" took the heads of cabbage one by one and covered each individual leaf with the red pepper paste. After a while, we convinced "mom" to let us help. We put on plastic gloves and started rubbing the paste onto the cabbage. We did this for a few hours before we had to leave to go to work. When we left, there was a sizable garbage can filled with our newly made kimchi, and "mom" showed no signs of stopping until all of the cabbage was used. I asked her how long it would take her and her son to eat that much kimchi. She solemnly replied "six months." I was blown away. This tiny Korean woman is going to eat a garbage can worth of kimchi. I am guessing that the garbage can ended up weighing as much as she does.

On a random note, Korean "mom" just got accepted to teach Korean in Ecuador for 30 months. So Paco and I will likely head to South America net year. Anyone want to go to Machu Picchu with me?

Exploring a Seafood Market



While Ariel's parents were visiting, we saw some interesting places. One of the uniquely asian experiences was a trip to a seafood market. After a long subway ride filled with many transfers, we managed to find our way into a warehouse filled with vendors. It was a little disturbing to see so many ocean creatures clamoring in tanks waiting to become dinner. Nevertheless, it was an interesting experience. The ground was wet with sea water and animal guts. Ariel and I both rolled up our pant legs before entering. I expected it to smell unbearably fishy, but the air just seemed thick and musty.


The warehouse was full of massive shrimp, abalone, enormous mussels, snails, squid, octopus, fish, skates, sharks, eels, and many more marine creatures. Octopus were sitting in tubs of water and crawling out, only to be poked and prodded by a woman with a long stick until they relented and stayed in the tub. Shrimp practically the size of my head rested on beds of ice. Mussels and snails gasped for a breath of sea water as they lay stacked in a pyramid.


We stood and took in the sights. We gawked as men grabbed fish out of tanks and beat them over the head until the flopping subsided. We watched as people filleted fish and laid it on beautiful platters. We took pictures shamelessly. I only saw one other white person. It was upsetting to witness the raping of the ocean (I even saw some sharks in the fish tanks), but I don't regret going.

The Dr. Fish Experience



How could we resist? It's a coffee shop that has good coffee. That in itself is a difficult thing to find in Korea. Ususally, coffee is burned, watered down, and comes in a dixie cup. There are very few places where you can get a real, large cup of coffee, which is why I love Starbucks at the moment. Starbucks feels like home. It is even decorated for Christmas already in true American fashion. It's still the beginning on November, in case no one has noticed!?!?!?!!?! But I am digressing from the importance of Dr. Fish.

It's a nice coffee shop where you can sit and relax (unless it's the weekend, and then it's a madhouse). You sip your coffee and eat free bread and waffles. Eventually your number comes up, and it's your turn for Dr. Fish. You are probably wondering what the hell Dr. Fish is (if I haven''t already called you and rambled on and on about it). Dr. Fish is where you have fish eat all of your dead skin. First, you wash your feet off, and then you sit in front of a nice window overlooking the busy street below. Next you stick your feet in a pool of water filled with hungry fish. The hungry fish bite you, eating the dead skin from your feet and ankles. For someone who is ticklish, this is pure torture. It's common to hear shrieks of horror from the waegooks (Korean word for foreigner) as the fish chomp away. The Koreans sit there like it is a normal thing to have hundreds of fish biting you at once. There are actually whole pools that you can lay in while fish eat skin off of your entire body. I don't think that I could handle doing that. It was hard enough to keep my feet in the water for 15 minutes at a coffee shop.

I learned from the menu that there are many benefits to Dr. Fish. Besides exfoliating, it gently massages your feet in a way that no person can do. It improves circulation, and it brings you closer to nature. You feel connected with the fish that are getting a meal of dead skin. Being a biologist, I see this as a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. I benefit by getting smoother, softer feet. The fish benefit by getting fat off dead skin. It's a win win situation. I'm just glad that I get to be the person and not the fish in this scenario.

Another Day in Korea



So today I decided to ride my bike to run some errands at Costco and E-Mart (the Wal-Mart of Korea). Ariel told me that the stores were close to the bike path, so I assumed it would be easy enough to find them. I have been to these stores many times, but not taking this route. The bike paths in Korea are great. They run along rivers and streams. On a Sunday, you can expect to see families, badminton games without a net, and people enjoying their one day a week off. It's fall in Korea, so the weather is crisp and the leaves are glorious shades of orange, red and yellow. The fallen leaves on the ground make that wonderful crunching sound when you ride your bike over them. I enjoyed the few hours that I spent riding around, getting lost, backtracking, getting more lost and riding around in circles.

The first excitement was right when I got to the bike path. Something was going on. Something was not normal. Under the bridge, there were hundreds of people in costumes. I have seen this before, but I don't have any clue why it happens. There are just hundreds of people dressed up, and people with big, nice cameras take pictures of them posing. I can't figure out if it's some sort of festival or what they are celebrating. The costumes don't have any uniting theme. People wear elaborate costumes with wigs. There are space age outfits, traditional Korean outfits, wedding dresses, pirates, people with swords, a person in a fuzzy cat outfit, etc. Of course, I didn't have a camera, so I can't show the wierdness of it all. When will I learn to carry a camera everywhere in Korea?

I rode my bike at a nice leisurely pace looking for the stores. At one point, I thought the path was coming to an end, so I went to the street. After looking around lost for a while, I turned back. Later, I thought I could see the building I wanted to go to, but again, I went the wrong way. Eventually I made my way close to the store. I could see it, but I was on a lower bike path and couldn't find a way up to the street. Instead, the bike path went under the road. I followed the bike path for a while though the sketchiest areas I have seen in Seoul. As I went though the tunnels, I imagined that this is where Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles would live or maybe just the only serial killer in Korea. It was dark and creepy and I was happy to get out. I was less happy when I realized that I had come to a dead end and had to go back though the tunnels. For a fleeting moment, I thought of climbing up to the street, but then I remembered that I would also have to drag my bike up. I backtracked and when back to the main trail, thinking that there must be a more obvious way to get there. As I went along the bike path, I spotted a cool Alice in Wonderland Park and a community swimming pool (drained of all its water). You find such interesting things when you get lost. After a while, I decided that I went too far and I tried to find my way on the sidewalk. It turned out the be a semi-non-existent sidewalk which went past a lot of scary looking gardening stores. I had not yet seen such a dilapidated part of town. Finally I found my way to the store. I bought my catfood and contact solution and got the hell out of there. Stores are crazy on Sundays. Thankfully, I found a much easier and less sketchy way home.

Right now, it's 6:45 p.m. on Sunday night. Is it acceptable to go to bed yet? I am such an old woman.....

The "Yogi-Yo" Button

Korea is not a place where you tip people. The taxi driver doesn't get a tip. The guy who delivers food doesn't get a tip. The waitress doesn't get a tip. I think that this slightly changes the attitude of the service industry. They aren't worried about making good tips, they just do their jobs. At restuarants, this translates into the "yogi-yo" button. Yogi-yo may be one of the most useful Korean phrases. Basically it means "here." You can use it in a taxi to mean "stop here." You can use it to get someone's attention. In restuarants, it can be used to get your server's attention from across the room. Apparently it isn't rude to scream "Hey! Over here!" to the person bringing your food. However, most of the time, you don't have to worry about doing this because of the yogi-yo button. On every table, there is a button. When you push it, the waitress comes to your table. That way, they don't have to come and check on you, and you don't have to shout across the restuarant. It is actually quite brilliant. Want another giant pitcher of beer? Just push the yogi-yo button, and magically someone comes to attend to your needs. I have gotten so used to having the yogi-yo button that I don't know what to do when it's not there. The other day, Paco and I were at an Indian/Tibetan restuarant, and there wasn't a yogi-yo button. We looked at each other very confused and wondered how we would order without a yogi-yo button. This is a moment when I worry about what it will be like to go home. How will I order food without a magic button that brings the server to my table?

Ariel and proclaimed Thursdays "Discover Korea Day." We don't have to teach until 5 p.m. so we are free to romp around the city. After being here for over five months, we realized that we have not been taking advantage of the city. We don't go out exploring much. As a result, we have been living in a bubble amidst 11 million other people. There are tons of museums and beautiful places to visit in Seoul, and so far, we have seen about five of them. Yesterday was our first Discover Korea Day, and we chose to visit a buddhist temple, Jogyesa (조계 사). It was a beautiful haven in the city. Whenever I am at a temple, people are doing things that I don't understand. I always just observe, but yesterday a cute, old Korean man handed us inscence and we had to figure out what to do with it. We lit the inscence and walked over to a pagoda and stuck it with other inscence. I'm sure that we missed out on at least eight steps of things we were supposed to do with the inscence, but who knows.

We wandered around in a new part of the city and found a nice vegetarian restaurant. At the restaurant, we met a nice western monk. When using the toilet, I stumbled across a knitting store. This is the first knitting store that I have seen in Asia. I saw a sign and followed it into a huge knitting store. For a minute, I just stood in the doorway with my jaw dropped. There were walls of yarn and knitting books (in an array of languages) and I was very excited. That's what happens when you Discover Korea. You love it even more than you did before.

Have it Your Way........ Just Not in Asia




Paco and I were trying to remember what foods we miss from home, and we have been away for so long that we have forgotten. I don't know what it is that I miss from home. Sometimes I get tired of eating Korean food, but then I can't think of what I actually would like to eat. I know that I didn't used to eat kimchi and rice everyday, so what the hell did I eat before I came to Asia? The grocery store always has the same five vegetables so that is what I tend to eat when I cook for myself. The other morning, Paco and I were discussing this over coffee and bagels (the other non-Asian food items that I consume). As we reminisced about the best western meals that we had while travelling, I realized something. People in Asia look at you like you are nuts if you ask for something slightly different than the menu. A few times, we tried to elicit to people that we wanted something modified from how it is normally served, and everytime they seemed baffled. Sometimes, they even try to talk us out of it. This is especially true in Korea. Here, there is a specific way that you are supposed to do things, and they will not let you waver from the norm. Once again, I am reminded of the hemogeny of this country. I have just learned that I cannot ask for my bibimbap without mushrooms. I cannot tell them that I do not want the awful anchovy soup that they always give me. It doesn't matter that I will never touch the dried minnows they set before me. They serve things to me the way that it is supposed to be done. This attitude also extends beyond food. For example, Ariel and I bought little brooms at the store to sweep our apartments. We picked out some cheap, simple brooms but were then told by a Korean salesperson that we had picked out the wrong broom. We were supposed to buy a different broom, and she would not accept no for an answer. What could we do but buy the recommended brooms? I know that I do things in ways that I am not supposed to all the time, and I think it just kills the Koreans. I have been told by numerous Koreans that I am not supposed to use chopsticks to eat my rice. You are supposed to use a spoon. However, I eat with the chopsticks because my students told me that it makes you smarter. I ride my bike to work in a skirt and heels despite the fact that bikes are only meant for exercise in a hardcore spandex outfit and not for transportation. I don't do these things to make people crazy. I don't know why I do things the way I do. I just know that I want things the way that I want them. When I am at a restaurant, I want to order things the way I want to eat them. I want to have it my way (I think that that is some fast food restaurant's slogan), but they don't do things your way in Asia. They do things the way they are supposed to be done. By the time I come home, I may forget what my way is.

The picture is a meal of pasta that our Korean "mom" made for us.

Korean Spa Experience

After work on a Friday night, I went to a Korean spa with some girls. The spa was open 24 hours, and many people actually go to sleep there. There were something like four floors to the spa and all sort of different rooms. We sat in hot rooms, cold rooms, steam rooms and numerous pools. The pools had things like green tea or dirt in them, and no, the dirt was not from us dirty westerners. I went in a steam room that was about 200 degrees. In case you are wondering, 200 degrees is pretty hot. There were also other various rooms like a movie room and a computer room. There was even Dr. Fish. You may be wondering what Dr. Fish is. I had seen advertisements on the subway where people were sitting in pools and they were little fish swimming around them. I was quite perplexed by these ads. Why would you want to sit in a pool with fish? Apparently the fish like to eat dead skin. Yes, Dr. Fish is where you sit in a pool with fish that nibble at your skin. Being a biologist, I think about this as a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. The fish benefits because it gets a tasty meal of my flesh, and I benefit by being exfoliated. Who doesn't like having soft skin? I hear that there is a Dr. Fish coffee shop where you can stick your feet in the pools and drink coffee while the exfoliation occurs. Sign me up for Dr. Fish. While we didn't do the Dr. Fish experience at the spa, we did get a Korean scrub, which was a cultural experience in itself. I may not have mentioned this before, but Koreans are very comfortable with being naked at the gym. So much so that we actually have made friends with women while naked in the sauna. One day, I was showering at the gym and one of our friends was next to me. Out of nowhere, she leaned over, grabbed my shower scrubby thing and proceeded to scrub my back for me. I didn't really know how to respond to that. Am I supposed to reciprocate? Say thank you? I didn't know what to do so I just continued talking to her and pretended it wasn't happening. Now I am going off on a tangent (like I often do in class- sometimes I wonder if the kids ask me questions purely to get me off on some tangent instead of doing the classwork). Back to the scrubs at the spa. Basically, people walk around very naked (is it possible to be more naked than just plain normal naked because if it is, then that is how naked people are). I doesn't help when you are the only white people around; it just makes people stare more. Seeing naked people is one thing, but being touched by people when you are naked is a whole other story, and that is just what happened with the scrubs. The women who do the scrubbing wear lacey, black panties and bras (well, some of them wear bras), but they are old Korean women. They scrubbed every surface of my body. I really do mean EVERY surface, including the palms of my hands, behind my ears, and my butt crack. Seriously. They have special scrubby thingies that take off the top 953 layers of skin. I had to keep my eyes closed for two reasons. The first being that I didn't want to see all of the clumps of dead skin flying off of me, and the second being that I didn't want to get any glimpses of the naked people getting scrubbed next to me. The Koreans are not especially gentle people, which was very evident during the scrubbing process. Since I don't speak Korean, the scrubber couldn't tell me to turn over or lift my arm so she just grabbed me and yanked me around. The scrubbing is pretty abrasive as well, so I was left feeling a bit like I had been attacked by an older Korean women in black underwear. However, my skin felt really soft. I don't know which is a better way to get soft skin, the scrub or Dr. Fish.

Random Ramblings


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.

Everything is a Production in Korea




In Korea, there is no such thing as doing something half-assed. They go all out for everything. They work hard, play hard, and drink hard. At work, the Koreans can't leave work until their boss does. Even if they don't have work to do, they have to stay until their boss leaves. Sometimes they are at work until 3 a.m. Thank god these rules don't apply to me. Koreans are also very active people. They like to hike, in-line skate, bike, etc. When a Korean person goes hiking, he/she is decked out in the latest gear: soft shell pants, wicking shirt, hardcore hiking boots, trekking poles, and a backpack. The backpack generally has a tin cup hanging on the outside, and inside there is a full meal. Korean meals involve about a million side dishes, and those sides are not ever left out, even when it means that you have to carry 30 different little containers up your hike. You can't just throw on some shoes and go for a leisurely stroll. In Korea, you have to have the latest high-tech attire and equipment for whatever you are doing. The people on bikes are decked out in spandex, have hardcore racing helmets on, and have an outrageously expensive bike. If you in-line skate, you wear spandex, a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist pads, and pads for anything else you can think of. Koreans also go all out when they go drinking. They will stay out drinking until 5 a.m. It is a common thing to see a man passed out in the middle of the sidewalk, on the subway or even in the middle of the street. One night, Ariel and I watched a taxi driver spend 5 minutes trying to wake up the guy passed out in his taxi. In Korea, when you do something, you take it to the max. You give it everything you've got. This is why Korea is going to take over the world.



This is our "bike gang." We like to ride around Seoul. The sweat bands are a joke, but the Koreans give us lots of thumbs up when we wear them. They seem to think it's appropriate to live in the 80's.




We went to the beach this weekend, and we were the only white people there. It was an interesting experience. As usual, the Koreans go all out when they go to the beach. You can't just throw a towel in a bag and go to the beach. A trip to the beach involves a large cooler with ridiculous amounts of food, umbrellas to cover you from the evil sun (they think being tan is ugly here), and large inflatables to keep you from drowning. A large amount of Koreans don't know how to swim. They are too busy memorizing 300 English words a week to learn to swim. At the beach, there are lifeguards who blow whistles at you when you try to go in the water where you can't stand up. Everyone has some sort of flotation device and no one swims. Oh yeah, the men like to wear speedos.

Fun with Korean "mom"



I think I have already mentioned this, but once a week we have Korean lessons with our Korean "mom" (a woman who approached Paco naked in the suana and has now become our Korean family). She is adorable and we love her. She usually cooks us some Korean food also. Last week, we decided to make her cookies. She has an oven (which we do not) so we brought over cookie dough. What do you supposed she made for us to eat with cookies? Caviar and kimchi. Yes, that is right, fish eggs, fermented cabbage, and cookies go well together when you are in Korea. Seriously, these people could eat kimchi with ANYTHING. On a food sidenote, if you don't get kimchi with your food,you will get pickles. Everytime I have eaten pizza here, I get a little thing of pickles with it.

Dogs in Korea




Many people have little dogs as pets in Korea. Little dogs can be a bit prissy. Especially when you put clothes on them and give them cutsie haircuts. My personal favorite is when the dogs wear boots. There are seriously dogs running around in little booties. I have yet to get a picture of a dog in boots, but I promise I am trying to obtain one.



Oh yeah, I am finally on Skype if anyone would like to chat. My name is rachswenny.

An update on life.

We have just been working and living in a city. Last weekend, we finally made it out of the city to meet up with some Korea on the Rocks climbers in a park called Seonunsan (I don't think I spelled that right). Taking the subway to get on a bus to take a taxi to get to the park makes us consider trying to aquire a car while we are here. It would be a little wierd to drive again, but I think it would be worth it to be able to get out of the city.

Last night, we decided to frequent the local pub so we went to every bar in our apartment building (all two of them). One of them was a jazz bar where they serve you watermelon and dog jerky. And no, I don't mean the two mixed together, but seriously, it was dog. We asked the bartender what it was because we thought it might be dried squid and she replied, with a big smile, "It's dog. Korean Dog. Very good." She then picked up a piece and happily ate it. So we did too, and she was right. Don't hate me becaue I ate dog. I had already accidentally eaten it in China...

On another note, Paco has a class of little kids that think she is pregnant. No, it's not because they think she's fat (kids here tell you that you are fat all the time, it happens to all the western teachers), it's because of her chest. This boy points at Paco's chest and says, "Milk. For baby." So apparently having a rack means that you are pregnant in Korea.

The photo is for Kieth. I am giving a belay to Rick, a friend of Kieth's from back when he was in Korea. We finally met up with Rick last weekend.

Oh yeah, Andy the Kid Who Licks Everything quit. It was sad to see him go.....

He looks sweet and innocent, doesn't he? This is Andy, the kid who licks everything. I just thought that people might want to see a picture of the kid who is now terrorizing Ariel as well.



Not only does this kid lick, but he also does this thing where he tries to poke you right in the butthole. It is some crazy game that kids play. Apparently they play in Japan too because I found this picture there.

What a Real Job is Like....

So things are not necessarily logical in Korea. Not at all really. Today, I had to come to work early, 9:15 a.m. to be exact. Why did I have to come to work early? I was supposed to have parent-teacher meetings. I showed up in a suit, heels and panty hose. I was trying to look professional for the parents. When I arrived, I was summoned to a meeting where I sat for over an hour. I have no idea what the meeting was about because it was all in Korean. At one point, everyone looked at me so I am pretty sure that they were talking about me, but who knows what it was about. In the end, I ended up saying exactly zero words, I was never introduced, and for all I know parents were telling my boss how much they either love/hate me. As usual, logic is completely lost in Korea....

There is a museum about kimchi, and I have been there. My kids laughed at me for it, and apparently everyone thinks it is a joke. No one actually GOES there, except Paco and I. I thought it was interesting....