Homesick

LJ throwback!

Music: Folk Alley from http://www.shoutcast.com/radio/Folk

Mood: Tenatively Happy


I am listening to folk music, and I am happy. I miss banjos. I miss trees. I miss you friends.

The weird thing about Korea is that culture is judgmental. Everyone is looking at you and judging you because you're a representative of them (you know, collectivist society and all that stuff). For example, most everyone is conscious of how they dress. There are no pajama pants and oily hair in Seoul. Even the casual styles are carefully calculated, with pair of pink high top shoes say, or a ponytail with just the right amount of fly away hair and hoop earrings. There is no true rolled-out-of-bed look.

As true blue foreigners, people like Andrew and my neighbor Amy get a Get Out of Jail Free Card. If Amy wears a tank top and accidentally bares a shoulder or two, the Koreans forgive her lewdness because her nordic ancestors blessed her with blonde hair and pale skin. If Andrew decides to grab my butt in public, the koreans forgive him because he's a horny westerner.

If I'm lucky, they will lump me in with him and forgive us both. More often than not, I have to endure dirty looks and slack stares from Koreans on the subway. If Andrew grabs my butt, They look at me as if I am the ultimate Korean slut. If I'm alone, I can forget any sort of forgiveness. I commit social faux pas multiple times a day. Let's see if I can make a list...

1. inappropriate clothing
2. inappropriate level of voice (too loud)
3. not following subway etiquette. This includes but is not limited to
-being aware of the invisible lines between your seat and the next, and NOT crossing over whatsoever (unless youre a korean and happen to fall asleep. Then you are allowed to slump over on the person next to you until your face rests lightly on their shoulder)
-Yielding AT ALL TIMES to the ajummas (which are older korean ladies who seem to have collectively rebelled against their former subservient status and are currently living their lives out as surly, callous, self-serving crotchety old ladies who cut in front of you at the subway station, have special seats reserved on the subway, dont speak the polite form of korean to anybody, and wear huge visors and sunglasses that practically eliminate their last visible traces of humanity)
-Understanding that lines do not exist in Korea, and to attempt to form one is a ridiculous expectation that can not possibly be followed by people in a hurry--and everyone is in a hurry. If you wait in line for all the stalls in the subway bathroom, you will never get one, because other koreans just entering will take the first stall that comes available as soon as possible. Likewise, waiting in line to get off the subway will simply get you shoved to the back of the 'herd' that forms. The proper way to exit a subway train is for everybody to crowd as quickly as possible to the opening, not waiting for anybody to get in front of you, and creating a situation in which everone is stuck, shoulder to shoulder, until someone forces one person free by pushing them from behind. In which case, a mad rush for the elevator occurs and the process starts over. This rule is important. Waiting in line in Seoul for anything will only result in making you last to do or get whatever it is you want.

4. Not being able to speak the language. Because i look Korean, and I am half Korean, my lack of Korean language skills basically makes me a paraiah to my people.



okay okay, i exagerate...slightly. But it feels like this a lot. Navigating Seoul can sometimes be extremely exhausting, especially if I dont have my guard up. The judgments are crazy! and they're everywhere! people don't hesitate to give you a stare down if they;re mad at you--but they won't confront you directly, that would be impolite. I was talking to one of my other friends in the building, Viviane, and she told me that one of her Korean friends who studied in America told her she missed America because she could walk out on the street there without being Judged. this is from a native korean--proof that I am not just going crazy with culture shock.


i miss you, my friends, so much right now. I wish I could teleport back for a hot second and throw back some hurricane katrina shots. Nobody here knows who I am except Andrew and Lisbeth. Nobody here loves me the way you guys do. Its weird. Being in Knoxville, I felt safe and protected, because I knew if we were out somewhere, and something bad happened, whoever I was with would be there, would try to help. But here, with these people I just met, around koreans who can't understand me, I feel vulnerable.

Anyway, next post Im going to update on stuff I have been DOING. I promise it hasn't all been sad things. Its just what I write about because writing helps me deal with sad things. I have pictures too!

(Preview for next post: Lisbeth, Andrew, mycousin and I went to a small Korean village. Pictures will accompany!)

Love you!

Food Coma

And so it begins.

I have just gotten through with lunch. The menu:
Chicken (ommm)
Cucumber Kimchee (my favorite!)
Regular Kimchee
Rice
Seaweed Soup

This constitutes a wonderful meal. Sometimes they have unsavory items such as dried and shriveled anchovies laid abed this crunchy stuff or some such. There are many SMOE-ers who end up only eating the rice and kimchee everyday. (Not liking Kimchee in Korea is like not liking peanut butter in the U.S. or not liking that paste stuff from Australia. what is it? V-Verm-???)

And now, my wonderful friends who I would give all the cucumber kimchee in the world for, I must tell you that for three and a half to four hours everyday i have to fight a devastating food coma. Right this moment, as we metaphorically speak, I am fightin the urge to lay my head down on the desk and snooze. The fake wood looks almost spongy and my eyes could use just the tiniest close. I don't know what it is. The food portions aren't even that big--in fact, they're tiny. I starve until lunch and then I starve approximately two hours after lunch, continuing until dinner. You'd think this new hunger would stave off the food-coma, but it only transforms the feeling from a pleasant urge to cat nap to a weakening ache behind my cheekbones.

So I make myself lists of things to get accomplished. Lately it has pertained mainly to lesson plans and Law school application stuff. But who wants to think about that when dreaming would be so much better? Or, even better, an obliterating nothingness from which one emerges refreshed!

Oh to feel refreshed. I barely get that on the weekends and hardly ever during the week. I have to catch it in snatches. Lately I have taken to forcing myself to work out once I get home. Just a little run on the treadmills in the downstairs rec room of my apartments at O.S. Vill. I feel a hundred thousand times better after I do this. But it doesn't always happen.

On the weekends I feel as if I must make the most of every free second I have. This is not to say that I don't have time to myself during the week, because I certainly do (I get off of work at five and have my whole evenings free). But there are not many people around to hang out with. lisbeth is over an hour away by subway, so seeing her during the week is almost always out of the question. Andrew has a night class from 7 to 9. If I went to see him or he me, we wouldn't see each other till late, and then have to go to school in themorning. Hopefully, after andrew's night class is over, we will get to see more of each other. This weekend, we celebrated our second anniversary. I made him Kimbap (a korean dish which is kind of like cooked sushi) and noodles. I bought a low sitting table and covered it with a scarf. we sat on the sleeping pads i bought for guests. I also had candles and music. It was cute-mom called it a 'poor kids in the city' anniversary. I think he really liked it. Afterward, we went out in a district around Hongik university called Hongdae. This is where all the young people and foreigners go to get their party on. We went with my cousins dani and nica (Daeun and Yeaeun). Of course we had a wonderful time, but I was exhausted on sunday from being out and drinking soju. I went to the movies with Lisbeth and Dani and watched that weird/dark/kids movie "9". I really liked it, even if it did make my heart crawl.

But thats what I mean by being tired. I was tired Sunday and Sunday night i couldn't fal asleep since I'd been up late on the weekends.

Amy, a girl from Michigan who lives next door to me, has been my primary comrade. We go to dinner every evening, we work out together, and we generally complain about SMOE and the oddities of our Korean teachers. Its nice having her there. We explore our little section of Seoul together, looking at the odd Seoul fashions, trying new food, and flirting with a cute Korean guy who sells gelato.

(Note about fashion: Andrew thinks the seoul fashions are ugly. They have to cover your shoulders, but can be as short as you want it to be. Everytime I tried to find a suitable Seoul 'going out' dress, he told me i looked like a bag. I think its more conservative bohemian and I sorta like it. Except some garments can be really ugly in their attempts to be tastefully conservative...weird huh?)


I've killed forty minutes. I've still got three hours and twenty minutes to go.

I love and miss you all. I'll post pictures later I promise.

Teacher Planning Period

I am sitting in my mandatory teacher-planning period. We are in the 'special subject teacher room.' From what I can tell, teachers are watching videos, shopping online and, in my case, blogging.

I just finished my first day of teaching. Victorious! The classes went well, the students were very interested, and I didn't do anything offensive or unforgivable. It was, in fact, very gratifying to see the students singing my "can-do kids" song. My biggest concern is the amount of energy I gave them. They seemed to suck it right out of me like a sponge and spill it all over the halls and cafeteria. I'm not sure if I can sustain this everyday for a week.

I'm banking on the fact that third graders aren't going to take as much energy. They are rumored to be much calmer, more cooperative and lower maintenence even though they are younger. Plus, they're cute as hell. I'm going to take a picture of all the little asian kids so you guys can see how much cuter this race is when they're small. (Just kidding...I'm allowed to say this kind of thing because I'm two races)

My immune system is currently completely overwhelmed. I've developd a stye in my eye, a ridiculous sore throat and today I've been fatigued. I may be getting the swine flu (in which case I would be relieved of my teaching duties for a few blissful days). But, more likely, my immune system is just bruised by less-than-stringent health codes for street food, my general lack of grace (running into things), and Soju.

Cultural oddity #1:
Yesterday, I presented a powerpoint for my first lesson to introduce myself. The picture on the first slide was something I thought was a nice, neutral picture of me. I had my hair up in a bun and was wearing a black tanktop. Mi-Jung called me over to her desk and said, "I'm going to be frank. You are showing too much of your body in this picture." I felt like she was calling me a red-light district whore. I was embarassed, but I wasn't sure why. On my way home, I paid close attention to the women walking around Seoul. None of them had on spaghetti straps and I counted only two who had 'sleeveless' shirts on. When I got back to my apartment, I sorted through my wardrobe and discovered that half of my clothes consisted of some degree of sleeveless shirt, dress or sweater. I have nothing to wear in Seoul.

Other facts of relevence:

The picture of my dad at the beach without a shirt on was allowed to stay in the power point, although I changed it of my own accord later just to be fair.

Korean women often wear high high heels just to leave the house, and very short skirts.

Palm up or down?

Sign at my subway Station (Hoegi station) in east Dongdaemun, Seoul

I've been at my school now for a few days and it has been a much easier adjustment than I expected. All of the things I feared--unaccepting teachers, overwhelming workload, miscommunication--has not only been avoided, but seems to have been addressed and tackled by my co-teacher, Mi Jung, before I even got there. I heard horror stories about native speaking teachers being thrown into a teaching environment without any explanation of schedule, expectations or even a syllabus. 

Mi-jung was having none of that. She had a whole schedule made out for me. She explained that it was subject to change because she was trying to talk the principal into letting me teach third graders instead of sixth because the sixth graders were so rude. And was that what I wanted? She told me she was very sorry about the changes in plan at the last minute. (I wish I could present Mi-Jung to SMOE as a role model) I only had ot ask her about my settlement allowance once and she had the school accountant depositing it into my bank account this week. She gave me a specific time to plan out our lessons together. She reserved a classroom so we could have our own space to talk amongst ourselves. I love Mi Jung. 

I love her because she is all the things that I was afraid she wouldn't be. Don't get me wrong, she doesnt take me out to dinner like some of the other co-teachers. and she didn't buy a thing for my apartment. But she means well, and she's good in all the ways that really count. Jeeze, all my emotions are so raw I'm sounding corny.

Funny Story:

I sat down with my principal on the first day I came to school. It was very formal. We all had to wait to sit until he sat. A short, bobbing girl came in to serve us tea. No one said thank you. He spoke to Mi-jung in Korean and she interpreted for me. I kept my answers short. My tea was amazing, but I only sipped it twice because for some reason I thought that would be more polite. He dismissed us at the end with a nod of his head. We waited until he rose out of his chair before Mi-jung, the two vice principals Kim and I got up. 

But before that, he asked me, through Mi Jung, if I stuck my hand out the window palm up or palm down to see if it was raining. You see, I am only half Korean, and he wanted to see which half was dominant. This would be an indicator of how well I could adapt to the working culture at Myeon Mok Elementary School. I had no idea which answer was right. I answered truthfully, thinking that my truer half was American. "Palm up," I said, indicating with my hand what I meant. The Kims went "oohhhh" and the principal nodded. Mi Jung said, "That's what he thinks the Koreans do" with just the tiniest hint of exasperation. I'm more Korean than I thought.

In other news, I ran into a metal sign today. I was hiking back to my apartment because I had missed my bus stop by two. (It had to do with some confusion over what the 'stop' button meant and thinking, stupidly, that the bus doors would open to let people off at every stop). I was making the best of it, listening to my best cheerful music (Paul Simon) and taking in as much of Seoul as possible. I was absorbed in a type of miniature slum in which the houses, sitting far below street level next to the train tracks, were smushed closely together with trash and broken things on the rooftops. The day before I had passed the slum and witnessed a family perched in the narrow alleyway between two houses. They were all clean, and eating neatly with chopsticks from food spread out on a bright yellow blanket. My mind could not comprehend why the scene struck me as so interesting, so unusual. I was trying to figure it out when I slammed temple first into a metal sign. The sound was so loud, a young Korean male with headphones a few feet in front of me turned around to see what all the metal ringing was about. As I staggered backward I watched him turn back around so as not to witness my embarrassment. At first I was grateful, but as I walked I wondered if he would have helped me if I had fallen from the blow. 

Anyway, the blow did it. It cracked the careful wall I had built to hold in all my overwhelmedness. All my inflexible Americanness. Not since the first day when I saw how my bathroom resembled a prison and I would have to sit bare-assed on the sink to wash my hair had I cried. And only then a very little bit.

I guess I have more american in me than my principal thought. 

My address is: (1004) 319-12 Wooyong O.S. Vill 

    Hwi Kyung Dong, Dongdaemun0gu

    Seoul, Korea 130-876