Because I’m Here

Where does one pick up after an absence of 8 months? Of course a lot has happened in that time, however, my paucity of writing is not due to boredom or laziness. In fact, there were many times in these passing months that I wanted to write, but I consciously abandoned the idea. Sounds strange, eh?

I’ll invite you to see it from my perspective. As mentioned in a previous post, some things become normal no matter where you are. I have a job, a schedule, a gym, a (few) dog walking routes, and a group of friends. I came to realize after a few months, that my reality is not all that different from the reality of any American. Yes, I see Koreans every day and have to order at restaurants using Korean. Yes, I don’t have some options that I may have at home. Yes, I get excited when I find things like mustard and tortillas in the grocery store. Be that as it may, questions began to run through my mind. Why would people want to read this blog? Why is MY life so special that I need to write about it on the internet for every living soul to read? What gives me the right to “flaunt” my ex-pat lifestyle? Do I even want to tell everyone about my year in Korea? My idea of starting a blog was to give insight into what living here would be like, and hopefully be successful in adding a bit of humor. As the days and weeks passed, I began to visualize where the blog was headed. This is when I knew I had to STOP! And I had to stop, now.

I am not one to write in a diary. I have tried repeatedly, and failed each time. I just can’t do it. I take great notes, but diaries are different in the sense that writing in one, for me, is like a chore. If I kept writing this blog, it was going to turn into a vacant diary. Not only that, my thoughts on Korea and Koreans grew very odious. I, for one, did not want to start out blog entries with the words “Today I…” or “I can’t stand…” A blog is not a place to bore people with day-to-day activities nor is it a place to purge malevolent thoughts. And so, this blog came to a screeching halt. It is now with just under 2 weeks remaining in Korea that I believe I can look back and be informative, somewhat insightful, and perhaps even amusing.

I suppose it would be best if this post was broken into a few shorter posts over the next few weeks. As mentioned earlier, I now only have 2 weeks remaining in Korea. The last few months have been an essential roller coaster ride. I have discovered qualities and quirks about myself that I may not have ever unveiled had I never come to Korea. A year in Korea has given me a lot of free time. I have been able to focus on something that I knew I always liked, and have realized I love and am ready to dedicate my life to. This is yoga. I came to Korea as an EFL teacher (not to be confused with an ESL teacher). I thought I wanted to be a teacher. I was right. I want to be a yoga teacher. I have been given an amazing opportunity to train with a truly inspiring teacher. She barely speaks English and I wouldn’t even be considered a novice in terms of my knowledge of the Korean language. Nonetheless, we have been able to form an immeasurable bond. I have grown not just in my physical knowledge and ability of asanas, but also in my spirituality as well. I may have never had this opportunity to realize my full potential had I not come to Korea.

Winter can be…depressing, distressing, somber, unpleasant, intense, daunting, rotten, imposing, lurid, dismal, and hopeless. The winter of 2009-2010 in Chuncheon was all of the above. It was, by far, the worst winter I have ever experienced in my entire life. You know it’s bad when even the Canucks are complaining of the cold. Brian and I were able to get a little relief from the doom and gloom months with a trip to Thailand. If I had not come to Korea to teach, I may have never had the opportunity to go to Thailand, one of the top 2 places I wanted to travel to since I was a little girl. I always thought it was strange that Kenya and Thailand were the 2 places I wanted to see more than any other. Ever since I was a young girl, these 2 countries stuck out in my mind. Europe is of little interest to me, although I have been a few times and am bound to return. But why these 2 seemingly random countries? Then I remembered. My mother had the opportunity before marriage and 4 children to travel. She and my aunt traveled all over the world (my mother never to Europe, though). Thailand and Kenya were countries I had seen in slides (sorry, Mom, I’m giving away your age) since I was a little girl. They were countries that didn’t only exist in National Geographic, but also in my own mother’s memory. It was only fitting, then, when I studied abroad in Kenya in 2005. When making the journey to Korea last summer, Thailand was finally within my reach.

Before we left for Thailand, I was talking with a friend who had been and she said, “You know how people always say Thailand is a beach paradise?” “Yes?” I responded with skepticism. “Well it totally is!” she affirmed. Needless to say, after about 35 hours of travel from Chuncheon to Seoul, Seoul to Bangkok, Bangkok to Ranong, and Ranong to the island of Koh Phayam, Brian and I were in paradise! We stayed at a bungalow for 200 baht/night which comes to about $5/night. We ate like a King and Queen, swam before breakfast, showered outside, rented bikes and explored the island, met some unforgettable Burmese children, ate meals with a German couple in their 70s, chased crabs, got massages, spent the last few hours of 2009 with a pleasant, affable Swedish family we had previously met, rang in the new year under a full moon on the beach, and enjoyed living life! To sum it up in a few words or a few pictures does it no justice, but it’s worth a try.

The theme seems to be “If I had not come to Korea…” Duly noted, if I had not come to Korea, Brian and I may not be in the place we are today. We had already been given the opportunity to grow while apart, perhaps more often than not. Korea has given us the advantage to grow together. We have been given an opportunity to share a life-changing, challenging, stressful year together and we have definitely come out on top. I think it’s best to let it be at that. You can see for yourself the happiness that we have been able share this last year.

And of course…

…there’s always Roland.

More to come in the coming days as my Korea chapter culminates.

What is normal anyway?

 

Wherever you live, you’re used to your surroundings.  You’re used to the people you see, your route you take to work, the food you eat, etc.  If you move it’s around the block or across town, maybe even a few states away.  However, you still find your grocery store, your gym, and your favorite coffee place.  Korea is not much different.  In fact, I’m amazed at how normal things seem.  I know my way around, I manage my time with work, the gym, the dog, the boyfriend, friends, and, of course, fun.  It’s actually when I stop and think that I am blown away.  Things are so far from normal!  After living in a place where your water comes from a pump and the only cell phone service you get is between two baobab trees, I thought nothing would be weird.  In fact, those aspects of living were not weird.  Things here are weird.

 

 

Brian, Roland, and me with North Korea about 3 ranges behind us

When was the last time you were walking down the street and you passed someone walking a dog?  Probably yesterday or a week ago.  How ’bout this one?  When was the last time you were walking down the street and passed someone walking a little, white “pocketbook” dog and the dog’s ears were dyed florescent pink?  This is a very common occurrence over here in Korea.  It makes me think that Lindsay’s “Dip-a-Pet” idea wasn’t so original…or maybe it just took off in Asia first (as most great things seem to, ie Brittney Spears, LFO, Herro Kitty…)  It’s really strange, but then again, each time I see it, it gets less and less weird.  It’s becoming normal.

 

No pink ears on this one

 

Now I know New York City taxi drivers are insane.  I don’t know if they have anything on taxi drivers here in Chuncheon, though.  In NYC, you can’t block the box, right?  There is no such rule here.  Actually, there is almost always one taxi in “the box” at all times.  You see, taxis, motorbikes, delivery drivers, they don’t adhere to the rules of the road.  No traffic light is going to tell them what to do.  Your taxi driver will rarely stop at a red light.  Actually that is a lie.  Your taxi driver will not wait for the light to turn green before he goes.  It actually works in your favor as a passenger.  The longer you’re in the cab, the more you pay.  This way, you’re paying less for an already very inexpensive ride.

 

Awesome colors at Seoraksan National Park

 

Seoraksan NP

It’s now the end of October.  At home, this means a few different things.  It means 1) raking leaves  2) the Races  3) pumpkin bread  4) excitement for the snowboarding season  5) Halloween  6) apple cider…you get my gist.  The end of October in Korea means something very different.  There are those glorious changes like the leaves and the drop in temperature/humidity, a rise in the number of street food vendors, and lastly, a rise in the number of face masks!  That’s right, face masks.  Face masks everywhere!  Face masks on old people, face masks on young people, face masks on babies, and even a face mask on my boss.  They are everywhere.  Disposable face masks and cotton face masks.  Blue face masks and pink face masks (obviously to accessorize accordingly).  It is a riot.  Everyone is terrified of getting swine flu, but no one really knows how to prevent swine flu, or any sort of sickness for that matter.  Soap is a great example.  When you use the restroom, you use soap.  Not here.  They are terrified of getting sick, but soap is hard to come by in a public bathroom.  If there is soap, it’s most likely a bar that is stuck on a piece of metal that is attached to the wall.  I have definitely seen hair and tissues stuck to these bars of soap.  Gross, I know.  Let’s get back to the face masks, though.  There is no point to wear a face mask if you are not going to use/wear it properly.  Apparently none of my students have been taught how to wear their face masks.  They take them off, lower them when they speak, trade them with one another, or even wear them so that their nose is hanging out.  I think the cool thing is to wear your face mask on one ear only, have it kind of hang there.  It’s weird.  It’s very weird, but not to them.  I’m the weird one.  Why am I not wearing a face mask?  Maybe I’ll start.

I remember when I was nine-years-old I visited my grandpa, Pop Pop, at the hospital.  It was actually the whole family if I recall correctly.  I remember Pop Pop was wearing a bluish green robe.  He had on slippers, too.  Pop Pop was sick.  He couldn’t go very far. We sat in the hospital and had a visit with him.  It was brief, but what are you really supposed to do when you have to sit in uncomfortable hospital chairs, right?  Koreans can see Pop Pop whenever they want.  Actually, I see men all the time from the hospital that is behind the mountain I live next to.

Just loadin' up the bike

They ride a motor bike down to the buy the way, pick up a few bottles of soju (Korea’s version of…I don’t even know what.  It gets you very drunk and leaves you very hungover.  One bottle costs 1,000 won.  1,184 won = 1 dollar), and smoke a bunch of cigarettes.  How do I know they’re from the hospital?  They’re still wearing their hospital “gowns” and slippers.  It’s amazing  Going to see Pop Pop is that much easier.

 

 

 

Ok back to the hospital!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to think that America is an exercise crazy country.  Maybe it’s just because of the way I feel and who I surround myself by.  I know I am wrong.  One might think Korea is an exercise crazy country at first glance.  Everywhere you look there is exercise equipment; in the park, along the river, at the top of the mountain.  It’s pretty wild.  Before I arrived I was definitely stoked at the opportunities I would have to keep my body in shape.  At closer look, this “exercise” equipment is a joke.  Whoever told Koreans that hula hooping was an amazing workout was a genius!  They love the hula hoop.

 

 

 

 

They also love clapping.  Apparently clapping is the new elliptical that the US just has not caught onto yet.  Clapping up the mountain, clapping down the mountain, clapping over your head and behind your back.  Hardcore stretching also really makes you feel the burn.  Try humping trees, too.

I never knew a steering wheel could make me sweat so much!

This does wonders for your thighs.  It’s so hard to explain that I am just going to have to attach pictures.  Exercise is good for the body, mind, and soul…and if you watch Koreans, it’s good for those ab muscles.  Laughing is an exercise, too.

 

 

 

There are no weights attached to this "machine"

The twist. This stretch can go on for a very long time

 

Soju.  Soju.  Soju.  Koreans love their soju.  We have a friend here who is a soju man. He always has soju in his backpack.  Always.  I am convinced that Koreans always have soju in their veins.  Put yourself at a restaurant with your co-workers after work.  Maybe everyone orders a beer or two.  Imagine you’re out to a nice dinner with your husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend and you order a bottle of wine.  Think of a time when it was three generations out to a meal.  Maybe grandma orders a vodka and grandpa orders a gin.  Dad might order a Guinness and if you have my mom, she orders a Natty Light (and unfortunately for her the restaurant doesn’t serve beer that disgusting…I love you, Mom!) In Korea, there is one choice.  Mekchu or soju.  Actually, if you go with mekchu (beer) you have one more choice: Cass or Hite.  Soju is really what all the Koreans go for.  Every one of them.  One bottle of soju is about the size of a beer bottle at home.  One of these will get one person drunk, possibly even black out drunk.  Eating next to a table of Koreans is hilarious.  It is not unusual to see 3 or 4 bottles of soju on a table for 2.  When you have a co-worker outing it gets really ridiculous.  There could easily be 15-20 bottles of soju on the table that sat 12 (if that).  They love their soju.  Unfortunately, this also means that they embrace being ridiculously drunk in public.  Men walking arm in arm stumbling over each other’s feet is not an uncommon occurrence.  They’re usually singing as well.  This also means that you see people passed out everywhere.  It is amazing what is acceptable here.  I am not talking about college age students either.  I am talking about 40-70 year old men passed out on the sidewalk.  I remember one night in particular I was down in Brian’s neighborhood.  We were walking home from a great dinner and there on the sidewalk on the stoop of a store was a man passed out.  He was half sitting, half lying down.  His wallet had fallen out of his back pocket.  I wanted to put his wallet under his arm or somewhere so that nobody would take it.  Brian reminded me that no one bothers anyone or gets in anyone’s business here.  We were almost guaranteed that when this jokster came to that his wallet would still be right there.  About a block and a half down the road we came to a 4-way intersection.  There, at the corner, right next to the traffic light pole was a man sitting almost indian style, also completely passed out.  He had had enough and decided that his wife wouldn’t be that angry when he didn’t come home.  That corner looked just as comfortable as any pillow.  This was at about 11pm on a Wednesday. What comes after a night of big drinking?  If it’s not Norae Bong (Korea’s karaoke) or passing out, it’s the big V.  For those of you who remember Mrs. Caputo, I’m not talking about the big verb!  I’m talking about vomit!  Vomit is a common site.  Something that is not surprising anymore.  It’s more of a thing that you look out for so you can avoid it.  For instance, this morning I was walking Roland.  Mind you, today is Thursday, so that means last night was Wednesday (for those of you who are a bit slow).  We were walking along and Roland was on my left.  All of a sudden, whoa there’s some vomit right near Roland.  So I pull him toward me.  Four steps later, whoa vomit on my right so I pull Roland once again.  We keep walking and we come up to a drain in the road.  Apparently the person found the drain as well.  I wasn’t mad or disgusted.  All I could hope was that it didn’t “drain to the swamp”.

 

a soju night...

the REAL Soju Man

 

Although I have my coffee place and my gym and grocery store, there are things about moving across borders that really blow your mind.  At first things are odd, but then you forget who you are and where you came from.  Normal is no longer where you were but where you are.  What’s even more strange is that it has only been three months and already this is my norm.  Who wants to visit?

 

That's me in Sokcho for sunrise

Yes, we are both wearing Cubs hats

 

The “F”-word, the wailing woman, and calling on Magician

 

 How do I even paint this picture?  I wanted to write a blog but the internet is not working in my apartment.  Since I haven’t received my first paycheck, my apartment consists of a bed, an armoire, and a fridge.  This is a pretty grim existence and the less time I have to spend actually in my apartment, the better.  There is a convenience store right around the corner with tables outside.  It is a common spot for people to sit, relax, eat, and drink a beer since you can drink wherever your little heart desires in this country.  Literally, wherever.  On the train, walking around town, in the parks, outside a convenience store.  Wherever.  I figured since it is a perfect evening I would bring my computer and Roland to the “Buy the Way”, sit outside , drink a coffee, and write a blog.  Apparently I get the internet here too!  Besides the random Korean who tries to practice their English, or gives you their number, or the random dog/child that runs by and Roland freaks out over, it’s actually pretty relaxing and rather hilarious.  

You learn so much when you move to a new country.  Living in a place is so different than simply visiting a place.  I have now lived in Korea for 18 days.  I could very easily visit a country, visit Korea for 18 days, but the things I know and have observed as a resident as compared to a traveler are so different.  For instance, when I think of the “f”-word, I think of, well, the “f”-word.  F-you, F-that, F-everything, F-in drivers, F-in idiots, What the “f”?, Where the “f” are you?, Who the “f” are you talking about?, When the “f” are you leaving?, Why the “f” should I care?, How the “f” are you?…and so on.  In Korea, the “f”-word is something VERY different.  On my first day of school I walked into the elevator (hate elevators but had no clue where the stair well was) and looked at the buttons.  This is when I went, “Oh crap.  The first time I got here I was totally jet lagged and I have NO clue what floor I’m on.”  Then it hit me, 4!  I’m on floor 4!  I was so proud of myself.  As I looked at the buttons with a new-found pride, another “Oh crap” moment hit me.  There’s no 4th floor button.  How can that be?  Koreans are a little weird, but they can’t just erase a number completely.  As I studied the inside of the elevator I saw an “F” button.  Could that be the 4th floor?  I took my chances and knew it wasn’t taking me to Fiji or the Falkland Islands.  I was lucky and made it to the fourth floor, which is immediately above the third floor, by pressing the “F” button.  I have since learned that the number “4″ is like the number “13″ in the US.  It is the unlucky number in this country and apparently simply printing the actual number will allow cause elevator disappearances, or if you are a very unlucky person, maybe even artificial insemination.  There are strange things in every culture, and like I’ve said before, you just have to laugh and move on.  

The other day I was walking with Roland down on the trail that runs along the river.  We do this almost every day and every day brings an unusual experience.  This day was particularly unusual and I saw a side of Korea that I don’t particularly understand.  As we were walking back toward the apartment, I heard this wailing coming from the river, It was the cry of a woman, but there was no woman in sight.  As I continued walking the wailing continued, sporadically, but it still continued.  I then realized I was being paranoid and that the wailing had to be a bird or some other animal.  I kept my eyes peeled for anything unusual down by the river but I saw nothing besides water, rocks, and egrets.   Then, as I was crossing the river (by way of boulder hopping), I heard it again.  I knew at that point I had been right and it was definitely a woman.  I’ve heard that domestic violence isn’t necessarily common, but definitely not unheard of here.  I had tried to prepare myself for this, but hearing a woman in agony made me feel things I had never felt before.  As I continued walking, I ran into a foreigner, an American.  We said hello and he asked if I had heard the woman as well.  He told me where she was.  She was sitting on some grass on the side of the river I had just crossed to and was simply wailing.  This foreign man had walked up to her to try to find out if she was okay and needed help.  As he did, he noticed her arms were all scratched and cut up.  He continued to approach her and two women followed him.  He thought they knew her, but they only followed to protect him.  When he got close to this woman, the other 2 pulled him away and were shaking their heads and hands at him.  They were basically telling him, “Get away from her!  Do not approach this woman!”  This man was very confused.  I, too, was very confused.  Where we are from, you help people.  Well, not everyone does, but if you hear a person yelling, you try to help in any way.  This may mean checking out the situation yourself, or calling the police, or getting a group together who can help or calling an ambulance.  Not here.  In Korea, your business is your business and you stay out of everyone else’s.  I understand that to a certain extent, but when you find a woman wailing her head off, and either suffering from wounds from being beaten or from self-mutilation, you help.  It concerns me for my own safety.  If I were to be yelling help for some reason, would anyone actually help me?  If I were to fall and be very hurt, would anyone offer me a hand?  Would anyone call a cab for me?  If someone walked up behind me and snatched my purse, would anyone run after the thief for me?  It’s an interesting concept.  Are we not supposed to help our fellow man?  Koreans believe they all came from the same family, so why would they not help a stranger who is in need?  It’s a question worth pondering, but one to which I may never get an answer. 

When I was born, my brother Neal, who was six at the time, wanted to name me.  When my parents asked him what he had chosen, he answered with a very definite…“Calendar.”  Although the sound of it is not that bad, I am grateful my parents did not listen to Neal and name me the biggest word he had in his vocabulary at the time.  In Spanish class in high school we were given the opportunity to choose our own Spanish names.  Me, being my parent’s child, chose Margarita.  This was also a tribute to my Uncle Bill’s absolutely fabulous, refreshing, knock-your-socks-off concoction. (Am I still in the will?)  Some people simply chose the Spanish version of their English names.  Years later when I lived in The Gambia, I was given a Gambian name by my family.  They called me Maimuna, a name I will forever love.  When given the opportunity to change my name, I decided to keep it.  However, some people decided to change their names to fit their own personality better.  Well, English class in Korea is just the same.  The students have the opportunity to choose an English name.  Some decide not to, and I have since struggled a bit with remembering names such as Yulim, Soo Bin, Hyo Cheong, Impyo, Tae Hun, Na Eon, Minsu, Hee Jin, Jae Bin, and Sun Il to name a few.  Then there are those students who do choose English names.  I have no problem with them.  I have a Steve, Christine, Jimmy, Lisa, Ally, Cleo, David, Evan, James, and an Elly.  These are all pretty standard English names.  Then you get the student who tries to be creative.  However, I don’t think that creativity is even the goal.  Some students, like my brother, think of the biggest word they know and use that as a name.  For instance, when I was still in the US, Brian told me about a very special student he has.  This student has decided to call himself “Future.”  Brian did not believe him nor did he believe he knew what the definition of future even was.  When he asked Future if he knew, he answered with a simple, “Tomorrow.”  HA!  I thought Brian was pretty lucky to have such a hilarious name.  That was until I got to my second day of school.  Usually the older students are the ones with the English names.  They have been in school long enough, watched enough television, and read enough books to have a pretty extensive vocabulary of English names.  The younger students are usually the ones with the Korean names.  Last Tuesday I had a class of 8 students, my largest.  They are all quite young, between 7 and 8, and their English speaking skills are definitely lacking.  I went around the room and asked everyone to tell me their name.  I could not even tell you what any of the names were.  Since I only see this class once a week I have not had the opportunity to reinforce any of them into my memory.  After hearing all these Korean names, I asked if anyone had an English name as well.  Two boys, sitting side by side in the first row, raised their hands.  I asked the first boy.  He gave me an answer like Mike, or John.  It was rather unimpressive.  I asked the next boy,

“What is your English name?”

“Magician”

Blank stare…”Magician?”

Head nod

“Your English name is Magician?”

Head nod

“No seriously, what is your English name?”

“Magician”

“Class, who can tell me this boy’s English name?”

Every hand goes up

“Magician”

“Magician”

“Magician”

My jaw dropped and I burst out into laughter.  Not the offensive kind of laughter but the kind of laughter that says, “This is amazing!”  How am I supposed to call on this student?  “Now Magician, can you tell me what punctuation you must have directly before a quotation mark when writing dialogue?”  “Magician, what are the three parts of every introductory paragraph?”  “Do you have your homework today, Magician?”  “Put your dove away, Magician.”  Every time I think about calling on this kid, I am going to laugh.  I’ve actually learned that is okay, but it is going to get the students off track.  “Teachaaaaaaahhh?  Why you laugh, teachaaaaahhhh?  What funny, teachaaaahhhhh?”  I suppose just like Neal, Magician wanted someone to acknowledge his impressive vocabulary.  He is not even a class clown, but perhaps his chosen name will give others an insight to his hidden personality.

Korea is very different from the US.  I have not had immediate culture shock like I had when going to Africa or even a Caribbean island, but just the opposite.  It has been a slow but very steady kind of awakening.  Everything seems pretty normal at first, and then you start living.

Life is Mountain

How does one begin to explain what it is like moving to a completely foreign country?  You, my readers, may read my words, but will you ever really understand?  Probably not.  I not only want to educate, but I would also like to entertain.  Moving to a foreign country is a huge challenge, but what I’ve learned with past experiences is that the presence of a sense of humor is of the utmost importance.  You can never let yourself get too frustrated, too sad, or too overwhelmed.  Of course I will use this space to express some of these feelings, but I hope in expressing them I will also realize the humor in this thing we call life.

This new adventure began in New Jersey.  My dog, Roland, and I traveled from New Jersey to JFK International Airport in New York City for a direct flight to Seoul, South Korea.  I chose this particular flight because it left JFK at 12:50AM and I was hoping the airport and maybe even the flight would not be too full at that hour.  Luckily I was correct.  After Roland and I got through security we headed to our gate where the two of us were the only two non-Asians.  This could be very uncomfortable to some people.  Koreans are not too fond of dogs and so were a little wary of this crazy looking dog that was to be on their same flight.  So as we entertained the Koreans, the Koreans, in turn, entertained us.  We found a place to sit, and as I looked up, I saw 11 Koreans doing tai chi in the middle of the airport.  They were all barefoot and standing in a circle.  This was my introduction to authentic Korean culture.  I smiled, chuckled to myself, and shook my head thinking I was absolutely crazy to move to South Korea.  

Our flight was pretty unreal.  We flew almost due north out of JFK.  I thought we might fly over Alaska, but instead flew further north and were right over the ice fields that make up the Arctic.  It being the middle of July, the arctic is light all day long.  This was about 8 hours into our flight and I figured that where we were geographically, it was about 2AM.  However, to us on the plane it was around 9AM.  This is when they served breakfast.  Even though it was 2AM, it was totally light outside.  Then, after about 2 hours of light, it got completely dark again.  These changes may seem so minute, but they really screw with your head.  We headed over Russia and then the very eastern side of China and landed after 14 hours in the air at Incheon International Airport.

The drive from the airport to the city of Chuncheon where I live was pretty awesome.  It being so early, I got to see the sky lighten and the fog rise off the mountains.  After leaving Montana over a year ago, the sight of mountains filled my heart once again.  Something had been missing for the last year and finally I had that joy back again.  Korea is also known as “The Land of the Morning Calm.” There could not be a more fitting name.  This land slowly wakes and is really a sight to see.  It is something I hope I never take for granted.  That first day came and went rather quickly.  I was so tired and physically drained from all the travel.  On Thursday I had to go to Seoul because I will be covering for a teacher while he takes 2 weeks of vacation.  He teaches in a suburb of Seoul called Mok-dong on Thursdays.  While in Seoul, I realized there is another phrase that is very fitting here in South Korea.  Drunk Korean Men.  Yes, if someone says the words, “Drunk Korean Men,” that is exactly what they mean.  I found myself on a cell phone outside a “7-eleven” after buying a beer for the long train ride home at about 9:30PM.  A drunk man came up to Patrick, the man I was traveling with, to ask for a cigarette.  Even non-smokers know the effects of this action.  One bummer, means at least one more bummer.  This first man came a little too close to me, and said probably the only word he could say in English, “Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty.”  I chuckled and took about 3 side steps to my right.  The next bummer came up to us and said the only English he knows, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  Of course as native English speakers we try to interpret these words into meaning, try to decipher why he is sorry.  We realized that these are just English words to them and have no real meaning.  The “Pretty” man looked at the “I’m sorry” man with drunken eyes and flung his right arm at the side of this other guy’s face and gave him a cracking SLAP!  It was hilarious.  They then proceeded to walk off, arms around one another, cigarettes in mouth, laughing and babbling in drunken Korean.  I’ve learned over the last few days that this sort of action is normal.  Koreans love their alcohol.  It is sold just about everywhere and outside little convenience stores there are usually a few plastic tables and chairs set up where this drinking can occur.  It is not unusual to pass by one of these tables with empty beer cans covering it while on my morning walk with Roland!

The last few days have been pretty relaxing as I’m still getting over the jet lag.  I’ve been trying all sorts of new foods and there is not one thing I’ve had so far that I don’t like.  The style of eating is completely new and still exciting for me.  Walking into a restaurant, taking off my shoes, sitting on the floor and eating everything with chopsticks is my constant reminder that, “Suzi, you live in South Korea.”  My first solid Korean meal on Thursday night in Seoul made me cry.  It was HOT!  It was also OCTOPUS!  I’m not talking calamari, I’m talking octopus.  The grill or wok is in the middle of the table and the waitresses cook the food right in the middle of the table.  It’s a very interactive meal.  The octopus was served with about 8 different sides, something I have realized is perfectly normal.  Since that first meal I have also had kim-bap, an absolutely delicious sushi roll.  It’s filled with veggies and a little pork and you can add tuna or beef.  It’s an enormous roll that costs about $2.50.  Luckily there is a little kim-bap restaurant next to my school where I’m sure I’ll be buying lunch a few days a week.  Mondu is a broth-based soup full of enormous pork and vegetable dumplings, a great hangover cure I came to understand on Saturday afternoon.  Dakalbi, the famous Korean barbeque chicken is known to the English teachers here as a “right of passage.”  Chuncheon is known for its dakalbi.  This restaurant was the first place I had ever been where you’re the uncool one if you’re not wearing a bib. Yesterday I had my two favorite meals so far here in South Korea.  Makuk-su is a cold noodle dish.  Despite my unusual dislike of noodles, I seriously enjoyed this meal.  We sat outside next to a beautiful fountain and ate this mildly spicy dish with kimchi and hard-boiled eggs.  Last night we took a cab to Seumusup, the neighborhood where I will be living.  Brian, my long lost and now found again boyfriend,  has only been in this country for about 1 month and the two of us know about 8 words in the Korean language.  We were nervous to go into a new restaurant and try to order something, but I am SO glad we did.  The menu luckily had pictures so we were able to point, nod, and say yes.  We realized that we have retreated back to being about 2 years old, or in the Barry house, retreated back to being my brother Neal at the age of 6.  Point and say “uh” and someone is bound to understand.  It turns out that they understood!  We ordered something called Mek-su.  It was beef that we grilled right on the table that came with mushrooms, onion, garlic and 6 sides.  Like the dakalbi, the mek-su was served with a little basket of lettuce and sesame leaves to make a little wrap.  Delicious! 

 

Eating makuk-su

 

 

 

 

I hope this entry catches you all up on what my first few days here in South Korea have been like.  I will send e-mails on a regular basis catching you all up on my everyday life, but like I said in my first few lines, I am going to use this blog to educate and entertain. 

One last thing!  Ha!  If you look at the column on the right side of the blog, you will see a running tab of hilarious/ridiculous phrases I’ve seen on signs or t-shirts.  Just like my title here, “Life is Mountain”, we realize that not everything in this world actually makes sense, nor does it need to.  So just laugh…

Where is Chuncheon?

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