Weekly Letter Home (10/15)

Monday, October 15, 2007

Dear family and friends,

Once again I greet you from the East. I hope you are well in whatever you are doing, and if not that you at least can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and if not that you realize that there is in fact a light at the end of the tunnel, you just may have to get around a couple of bends to see it.

Sorry this letter is so long (17 pages, Gasp!), but it does cover two weeks, and the two weeks it covers were quite eventful. School festivals, travels to not-so-exotic locals, little teaching, but a lot of eating. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the specific names of all the foods I ate, but I will find them in the future if I ever go back over this thing and decide to make a book out of it even if I only publish it privately.

One particular post to note is that my maternal grandmother passed away recently. For those who were praying, thank you. Please continue to pray for my family as we remember Grandma’s life. We have confidence that she went on to her heavenly home and look forward to meeting her at the final resurrection and in the life of the world to come.

On a side note, my host brother has taken to saying, “Oh, my God!” recently. I don’t know where he learned this phrase, as I abhor it, and it is starting to get on my nerves. I wonder if it’s worth explaining to my family why I don’t like the phrase and that I would like him to stop. They are Christians, but then again, Koreans (much like Americans, I should note) may not think it out of the ordinary to take the Lord’s name in vain, especially in a foreign language. I’ll probably just let it slide. It’s just abrupt to me because it’s just about the only English I hear out of his mouth. If an English speaker says it, it’s usually in context and I don’t even blink. When he says it, though, it percusses my ear like the snap of a marching snare on a crisp fall day.

Love,

Jeremy

Meeting 정준호 (10/13)

On Saturday evening my collegiate host sister, who was home for some unknown reason as school is still in session and there are no breaks around now, told me that the family was going out and needed to borrow my digital camera. Why? “We’re going to meet my favorite Korean actor. You can come!” And suddenly the reason for her coming home became crystal clear…

Anyway, apparently the actor, Jeong Jun-ho, is fairly famous in Korea, so everyone is a little confused as to why he was visiting our small county. He knows some English, probably because he calls L.A. his second home, and was able to have a brief conversation with me. I started this conversation in Korean, but when it became clear that he wanted to speak in English, I obliged him. During the conversation, I was asked the following strange question:

Are you Russian?

…and the following awkward question:

How do you like Korean women?

…made all the more awkward by the fact that my available collegiate host sister who understands English was standing right there. I was then encouraged to marry one if I could manage it while I’m here. And yes, I told him I was only here for a year…

At any rate, I suppose now I’ll have to see one of his movies.

Hiking 등산로 (Deung Mountain Trail) (10/13)

I was finally able to hike the small mountain ridge behind my house on Sunday. It was a pleasant hour’s walk or so that affords a magnificent view of the entire town in places where the trees clear just enough as well as absolute solitude where they don’t. Though, I will say that when you’re on the town side of ridge, the amount of noise pollution from the town and the echoes along the range is mind boggling, so that one is never with a sense of total isolation. Get to the other side of that, though, and one is immersed in absolute silence. A surreal hike, to be sure.

I met the government official I saw at noseongjea the weekend before on that ridge, the one that wanted me to teach the other officials English. He’s offered to take me out to Odesan National Park since he knows now that I like hiking. Perhaps after the Gyeongju conference I can take him up on that.

Coffee, both Black and Bitter! (As Opposed to Brown and Sweet…) (10/13)

A couple of weeks ago, I received a package from home (I’m not sure I mentioned this or not…). Included in this package was a can of Yuban coffee, and, while it is not the best coffee in the world, I was certainly grateful to have something tangibly ground that would require a filter to brew as opposed to the dehydrated instant coffee that’s Korea’s main caffeinated staple.

But this presented a problem, for whereas I have a coffee maker thanks to my host family buying one in combination with a single slice of toast toaster oven (don’t ask…), I did not have any filters to go with said maker.

So, I asked around a bit and found out that there was an import store that sold both ground coffee and filters. However, wpahen I inquired at the store, which by the way looked like something out of the borrowers what with the variety of paraphernalia (look up the etymology on that word sometime; delightful) available for purchase, I only saw two bags of coffee (both hazelnut flavored) and no filters. Some pantomiming and Konglish later, the ajuma produced some coffee filters from a tin on the shop floor.

So, this Saturday, I popped the seal on the can (that smell… oh, Lord give me strength!) and attempted to brew a cup of coffee. I say attempt because the filter was too big and the coffee ended up spilling everywhere. Some trimming and some light remonstrations from my host mother and I succeeded in brewing a cup of very strong, very black coffee which was delicious. (Or, has my taste grown bad or my addiction too strong?)

The host parents asked where I got the coffee from, and I explained as best I could. My collegiate host-sister who was home for the weekend helped. They then proceeded to brew a couple of cups as well. Well, they didn’t ask, but I’m happy to share my addictions, I mean pleasures with the family. Cultural ambassador and all that. Still, I thought that they might not like it. After all, Korean coffee is usually high in cream and sugar and in the end light in body (all of this in an instant mix packet).

Upon their tasting the coffee, I asked them how they liked it. To my surprise, they said that it tasted the same as Korean coffee. I then noticed that I could practically see through theirs whereas mine was as black as night. They must not have used as much grounds.

Well, I won’t burst their bubble about being able to handle coffee bitter and black. I just hope they never drink from the same pot of coffee I do.

TKD: Frustrated, but Determined (10/12)

TKD was rough over the last two weeks. I’ve settled into the monotony and routine that is training the body to be a disciplined machine, though I’m sure the sabeonim would protest that TKD is far more spiritual than I give it credit for. As such, there is not much to report about the day-to-day activities. I have run into some difficulties recently, however, that bear noting if only so I will have a marker to look back on when I’ve run my course.

Speaking of running, it turns out that my Saturday run before the Noseonjea festival may have been a bit of a mistake. The whole next week I was working out the tightness in my muscles, and my flexibility, which was laughable before the run despite the 3 months I have trained, went back to a level I had before I began taking TKD. Luckily, it’s returned all the faster. Still, I think I could bear spending one week on just stretching for two hours a night.

I’m also frequently frustrated with the childishness of the children I train with. It is not so bad when we are under the supervision of the sabeonim, but when we break off by belt level for group practice, my fellow green belt cannot focus for more than one minute before he goes off and annoys some red belts until they pick a fight with him. It’s also hard to find someone to train me in the forms I don’t know during these periods. The children are eager to help so long as they don’t have to do the form with me more than once. That’s too boring, I suppose. But I have trouble remembering something I’ve never done before after one viewing, and it’s frustrating when they run off to practice their kicks on each other while the sabeonim is working with other belt levels.

Still, I go everyday that I can, for two hours, to train. It will not always be fun (though it often is), but it is something I need to do. True, I always wanted to take martial arts as a kid (I’m not exactly sure why I couldn’t, but I think it had to do with either money or the fact that I was in Scouts), but now I have a reason. My doctor said I need to lose about 20 lbs to avoid diabetes after all. I haven’t lost any weight really since I’ve arrived, but I’ve certainly toned, and I think that’ll count for something in the end.

But yeah, it’s mostly because I always wanted to do it when I was a kid. Maybe I’ve got a little bit of the childishness that I complain about in those children at the dojang after all.

Teaching: Kangwondo Board of Education Visit (10/12)

As I said, the school was in a positive bluster preparing for the Kangwondo Board of Education’s visit. Landscaping was redone (the third graders who knew for sure they would graduate were pulled from class for this), school crops were picked, displays were made, music and art demonstrations practiced, and presentations rehearsed. One rehearsal I attended, as it was the main presentation for the BoE visit and included a video made earlier in the semester of me teaching. It was only b-roll footage, meaning no one could hear what I was saying in the clips, but I remember exactly what I was saying in the particular clip they chose.

“I’m sorry about the interruption in your normal schedule, class. This is supposed to be my day off, and I have no idea what’s going on. So let’s make the best of it.”

I’m glad they cut the sound.

What occupied most of my time, however, was helping prepare the special co-teaching class for Friday. Or rather, I wish it had taken up my time. As it was, I sat at my desk while my co-teacher did most of the work, insisting that I could not help at that time.

And then, on that dreadful Thursday, she said that we were not yet done with the preparations even though the class was tomorrow. I sighed inwardly and told her that I’d be willing to stay at school as long as it took to finish the preparations. I stayed until 5:50 pm, rushed home to get my TKD uniform and stayed at the dojang until 8:00 pm, at which point I rode over the H.S. to help finish the class work. She ordered pizza for us (and typically wouldn’t let me help pay), and we spend the evening cutting conversation strips and practicing our dialogues. We also helped make a movie for one of the other English teachers who also had to present the next day. I finally got to go home around 10:40 pm. When I left, the third graders were still there studying for their University entrance exams. They stay until 11:00 pm on a regular basis, apparently.

The next day we practiced again in the morning. She was nervous as all get out, and I hit my nervous spike as usual about 10 minutes before we went on. (I still think of these things in stage terms.) The lesson consisted of a review of “What would you like to have for lunch?” which we never taught them in the first place, which moved on to having a student read the day’s goals, which seemed a bit ambitious, which moved on to having the kids name the top five foods in the hamlet, which we made up, which moved on to the kids drawing a picture that they had to describe to the drawer in English, which went surprisingly well, which moved on to mock dialogues with aprons included, which moved on to the strip story of recipes of Korean foods, which went decently well (One kid noted that the first step in cooking samgyetang is not in fact to clean the chicken, but rather, “Catch the chicken!” This is why I love the country.), which moved on to a brief assessment examination.

Despite the fact that the lesson was ambitions, it went very well. The kids were enthusiastic (We were concerned because it was the usually quiet 1-3 class. The administration made this decision, not us, but we thought the student’s performance admirable.), and the activities went off without a hitch. I might use the picturing drawing idea as an activity in the future. The kids kept telling me how excited they were to do the lesson, and I had to tell them that Phoebe, my co-teacher, had done most of the work.

There is really only one major concern that I have with the demonstration day. The province wanted to see our school because our school does well for a rural public school on national testing. Thus, they wanted to see how we manage our school affairs to bring about such results. But, at least in the English class I took part in, the demonstration in no way represented what actually goes on at the school on a day-to-day basis. We do not co-teach. The English teachers usually use a text book and the foreign teacher usually is not even in sync with the standard syllabus. The entire week I was thinking, “What sort of ideas is the provincial BoE going to get about programs they should be implementing when we do not even implement the programs we’re showing off to them?” Ah, well. This is not my country. I told the English teachers about my confusion, but I did not question their methods. I am a guest here, and an observer. I will stay the course.

Teaching: Week 8 (10/12)

Week 8 of teaching at the hamlet’s high school was going to prove to be quite busy. First of all, the Kangwondo Board of Education was supposed to visit sometime during the week, so everyone was a little bit on edge and running around like the chickens at my host family’s house when abeoji throws some corn out there for them to eat. (I wanted to avoid the cliché of “chickens with their heads cut off”, but chickens are all I can think of after this much writing, so give me a break.) Secondly, it was going to be my first (nearly) full week of teaching for quite some time. The past few weeks have had various interruptions so that I was never seeing my full compliment of students. Even this week I wouldn’t as it turned out that my 1-4 and 2-3 classes who I usually see without fail were cancelled, one so I could co-teach a special presentation class with Phoebe and the other so the students could have a cleaning period after the BoE’s visit. (Cultural NOTE: There are no janitors at Korean schools. The students do the cleaning. Aside from the fact that it would disemploy a lot of janitors, I think this is an excellent idea. After all, who trashes their school if they have to clean up after it?)

At any rate, the main lesson for my high school classes was a directions lesson Kiehl C., an ATE from last year, left on the program’s forum board. Essentially, it involves getting the students to generate various direction words for use during the activity (e.g. right, left, straight, turn around), as well as some movement verbs (e.g. go, stop, walk, run, dance, hop). After this, the activity is a simple game of “Where’s Waldo?” played in the entire classroom but with one caveat: the searcher is blindfolded and has to rely on the directions of the students. Sometimes, the students would be a bit sadistic in asking the blind searcher to bump into things, and I’ll admit I joined in the fun sometimes, but it was overall a good lesson. The students were able to speak English and genuinely wanted to participate in the activity. One student, who said he was sick at the beginning of class and so he couldn’t sit up front in an empty seat, miraculously got better when he saw how much fun the activity was. Amazing. Another advantage to the lesson was that, on their upcoming mock university entrance exams, I know there is going to be a listening question on directions.

As it is a new month, I’ve given the second graders an extra credit memorization assignment—Shel Silverstein’s “Whatif”. This one is much easier than last month’s Announcer’s Test as it is shorter, repetitive, and rhymes. Hopefully, I’ll have more takers than last month’s two students.

I finally saw my Advanced Adults after two and half weeks of no classes. They were well prepared on their assigned reading at least—Plato’s Allegory of Cave. We talked about that for the first half of class, and for the second half we talked about the Noseongjea Festival and Korean Language Day, which was that day, Tuesday, Oct. 9th. We even arranged a picnic for the week of no classes after the Gyeongju conference with the program. I am apparently to bring nothing, but I was able to understand their Korean enough to figure who among them was bringing what, something that seemed to surprise one of them. I told them that I was learning Korean and that I even had tutoring lessons with a Seoul Natl. University student during the weekends.

“What? You speak Korean? But what can you say? Just annyeonghaseyo.”

I proceeded to introduce myself in Korean, told them that I could order food and bus tickets, find out where the bathroom is, etc. In other words I could tell people who I was and survive. They were impressed and asked me to speak Korean with hamlet residents more often.

I was also questioned about the Korean girl I was seen walking around with at Noseonjea. That would have to be H.W., so I guess I will have to be careful about who sees me where with whom. Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong ideas…

The next day’s lesson was taken from an article in the Korean Herald, an English language newspaper, about a French-English couple who have decided to bike around the world and are currently on the Korean leg of their tour. After some discussion of the article and talking about where we’d like to travel, we decided that for next week’s class, we’d all bring in pictures of our travels and talk about them.

My beginning adults received the brunt end of my grandmother’s death I fear. I was in no mood to teach that morning, so I left the second half of class to somewhat freeform discussion, which revolved around talking about travel once again.

Besides this, the Character was also back in class. He has asked if he may attend the advanced discussion class. I told him yes, and am unsure how I feel about that. I feel like he is probably a great person to talk to one on one, but in a classroom setting he is more of a distraction than a help. He started asking about geographic features in class and would not believe me when I told him that deep could be used for both canyons and oceans, or that canyons were similar to ravines, or that the edge of a canyon was called a cliff…

A third obstacle to my teaching the beginning class on Thursday was that there was another English teacher there who came to “just watch,” but also ended up commenting on my class a bit. She was from the Philippines, which confused me at first because I knew she wasn’t Korean, but couldn’t quite place her. I was hoping to talk with her afterwards both because she is a foreigner and I’m curious as to what she’s doing in the hamlet and also so that I might share strategies with her.

At any rate, the Character ended up giving me a lecture on how Asian foreign English speakers can always understand each other, but can never understand native English speakers nor be understood by them. He also gave me a lecture on how Filipinos apparently speak English with a Spanish accent. Who knew? I, a person who roomed with a Filipino for two semesters, a Spanish minor, and someone who actually paid a great deal of attention to the colonial section of American history in H.S. certainly didn’t. Obviously, I was in no mood to be lectured about the English linguistic patterns of Asian countries, something I’m already fairly well versed in, and smiled politely while I gave him a little lecture in Spanish. To this he just smiled and said, “Yes,” making me think that he confused it for English he did not understand instead. He apparently does not listen, or else is he apparently unwilling to admit not understanding, neither of which is helpful in a conversation class.

There was no beginning adult class on Friday, but luckily my school week didn’t end on that rather sad Thursday note. I had the Kangwondo Board of Education visit to look forward to.

Grandma’s Passing (10/10-12)

Last week, I began receiving emails from my grandfather and mother concerning the growing seriousness of my maternal grandmother’s condition. Her kidney’s had finally failed. A diagnosis given to her a little over 3 years ago finally came true. And, as the emails affirmed, all that was left for all of us was to wait and pray for Jesus to take her home. For her part, she had been ready to go for a long time. Her last few years were not exactly the most comfortable of her life as her body slowly poisoned itself from Type B Diabetes.

I knew that Grandma could go any day now, so before I came to Korea I flew down to Arizona for a little under a week to say good-bye to her. She never wanted people to come to a funeral, it turns out. She wanted them to come to her while she was still living, so I guess I did right by her.

I was never really close to her. How could I be? We always lived so far apart and rarely talked to each other. Still, I found myself hard hit by the news, first that she only had one day left, and then the final email I read on Thursday morning reporting her death on Wednesday, October 11, 2007 10:00 pm MT in America. Or was it Tuesday? I can’t be sure with the time difference, and that’s somehow all the sadder. What’s even more sad? When people would ask how old she was when she passed, I had no idea.

I wrote her a letter by way of apology and by way of thanks for all that she did for me as my grandmother. It is quoted at the end of this entry. At my lowest moment, I could not call family as they were asleep, so I took a chance that one of my VALPO friends, Isaac, may be awake. He was, and he was actually with another good friend of mine, Jordan, who apparently had quit Disney on Ice and was at VALPO helping the theatre department and celebrating homecoming. (It turns out that I was actually quite lucky to get even Isaac. A couple of days later and he would have been on a sailing vessel for his SEA Semester.)

The three of us talked of the surrealism of talking across continents and oceans and even time. We talked about how VALPO was doing, what news we had of friends, what we had done since we graduated, the quality of American beer vs. its Korean counterparts, of which there is no comparison. We of course talked about Grandma as well, but the conversation served mostly to distract me. It was good to hear their voices again, as I will not see them again in God knows when.

Other friends who knew offered their prayers. In fact, Isaac told the Chapel community at VALPO about what was happening. I told the Program in Christ email list. Prayers are a comfort in times of trouble and efficacious to heal and console by the will of God. Some friends even offered to visit, but I felt that I was not so far low that I would need that.

And of course, I talked with my fellow English teachers who told me that they were sure my grandmother had gone to Heaven. Ironic, considering how religious they are. I tried to tell my host family in Korean on Friday night. I even made a special trip out to the beauty shop after TKD so I could tell them, fearing that I may be too tired when they returned home. Luckily, my collegiate host sister was there (SURPRISE!) to translate.

But it did affect me terribly in terms of teaching. My Thursday morning classes were a disaster. I forgot things right and left for the first class. The beginning adult class I taught that day was monstrous as the Character was there once again, and I pretty well was showed up by a Filipino English teacher who was there “just to watch”. Still, I blame myself for my performance in those classes.

I just wish I could have been home right now. There is no funeral. There will only be a memorial service on Saturday. I will press on. I will miss her, but I am happy for her and will press on.

The letter to Grandma:

For Grandma Howard: A Living Eulogy
“My Thank You Card to You”

My grandma does not like tears. She does not want people to cry over her passing. She does not like funerals, and so she does not want one. She wants people to say what they have to say about her while she’s in her mortal coil. She wants people to visit her while she is still alive. I, who am half a world away in a country where grandparents are celebrated and revered almost as gods, cannot perform this filial duty. And so I, a grandchild now grown, will write what I think and pray that it reaches her in time.

As a grandchild, though now grown, I have only a child’s perspective. I never had the opportunity to talk to my grandmother about what she thought about politics, international affairs, or religion. We never talked about the adult things of life. We never talked about the hard things of life. She talked as a grandmother talks to her grandchildren. When I arrived at her house, she would ask, How was your trip? followed immediately by Are you hungry? When I wasn’t hungry, the question turned to Why aren’t you eating? In winter or at the movie theatres, it was Aren’t you cold? At the beginning of the day, over breakfast, What do you want to do today? And when the day was done, Did you have fun doing what we did today? At night, before bed, How about a story? (That question, when I grew old, became How about some television before bed?) She was a caretaker for me.

My answers were typical of a child answering to a guardian. Good. Yes. I don’t know. No. I don’t know. Yes. Sure, Grandma. Even when I grew older, those answers were all too brief. I should have asked her about herself. What was her life like growing up? Did she have the same fears I did? The same dreams? How did she know to marry Grandpa? What was it like to take care of Mom and Uncle Charlie? And a conversation could develop, and two people could actually know each other past that all too biological and chanced familial bond. My answers were all too brief, my questions all too late, and the visits…

Well, the visits were all too few. My grandma is a wonderful woman who loved her grandchildren even when they could not visit her. Most people, I suppose, imagine becoming grandparents to be like it is in the movies, or at least in the Betty Crocker commercials. Little people skip and run and laugh down the sidewalk as they hurry and rush and clamor to grandmother’s house just down the road from school. Grandma waits at the white picket fence for the children, arms opened wide to receive their loving hugs. Inside, freshly baked goods and lemonade (or hot cocoa in the winter) await all.

Most people probably imagine laughing at and teasing their own children, newly moms and dads, when they see them having trouble raising grandchildren. (As Bill Cosby quipped, “Not as easy as it looks, is it, Son?”) The new parents have to scold the grandchildren who run into the protecting arms of their grandparents whose scolding days are long done.

But my sister and I, and even my cousins, were never close enough to Grandma’s house to traipse there after school days. We were never close enough for Grandma to make fun of Mom and Dad for their parenting techniques (Perhaps we were by telephone, but I doubt that my parents would have thought it my business to know about it), or for my sister and my cousins and I to climb into her lap on a regular basis when Mom and Dad seemed too harsh or scary. We were just never around, and grandma had to be satisfied with the pictures we would send, the occasional phone calls we would make, and the even less frequent thank you cards we would send for Christmas and Birthday presents. (I am getting better at that last one though Grandma, so thank you for being patient with me. It only took me 22 years!)

And those are my regrets. That I did not know my grandma like I could have. That I did not make the extra effort to know her like I should have. That now, if I could do it again, I would have.

She will probably say that I should not have regrets, but regrets are inevitable I think in this life.

And that’s why we have Thank You’s. So, Grandma, if you hear this (or even read this) before you go to see God, know that I am crying about you, but it is only because I love you and I want to thank you. Thank you for being my grandma even when I did not talk to you. Thank you for being my grandma when I did not ask about you. Thank you for being my grandma when I did not visit you. Thank you for being my grandma when it seemed like I did not love you. Because I do love you, Grandma, and I will miss you.

But I am also happy for you. You are going on an adventure. One day I will follow you, and when you ask me on that day, “How was your trip?”, well then we’ll have a lot to talk about.

Eating out with Gomsaem

I think I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I may have offended one of the English teachers at the high school when I didn’t remember his name when he called me. For the sake of this post, we’ll call him Gomsaem (Bear Teacher), which is his common moniker at school and partially to blame for my confusion about what his name actually was.

Well, he hadn’t talked to me for a while, and I began to genuinely worry that I had actually offended him. Finally, last Tuesday, I told Phoebe (I gave my co-teacher this English name) about my concern. She assured me that he was naturally a quiet teacher and that everyone was quite busy with preparing for the Kangwondo Board of Education’s visit later that week, so I should not be concerned. I told her that I hoped that was the case because I liked him and would like to hang out with him some more. As I noted before, we seemed to have common interests, namely Japanese popular culture (i.e. Anime).

She must have told him about my concern though, because that evening as soon as I got home I received a call from Gomsaem offering to take me out for bulgogi, Korean’s most famous dish and a hamlet specialty as the beef in the region is particularly good, but a dish of which I had not yet had the pleasure of partaking. We also shared a bottle of 100 year soju, a soju which is less intense, more flavorful, and golden in color compared to the clear watered down vodka variety that is Korea’s staple alcohol. He even told me that I didn’t have to use two hands around him when we poured drinks for each other. This is a fairly big deal and represents the breakdown of hierarchy between two people who may then talk to each other as equals. As an example of how serious this is, I’ve only had one other Korean person tell me to stop using two hands before.

We mostly just talked about the differences in drinking culture between America and Korea. Apparently, this conversation was good enough to warrant second round, however. (NOTE: Second round is when you move from one location to another during the evening. Drinking is usually involved as with most Korean activities, but this is not to be equated with the custom of barhopping in America, during which one only frequents a variety of drinking establishments. Second, third, or even fourth round can just mean everyone goes to a noraebang (singing room) or bowling after having had the previous round.) We ended up at a hof-soju establishment (hof, meaning beer which is not the Korean word for beer nor the English word) and continued the evening from there under the stipulation that I would pay for it since he paid for dinner. (He warned me that’d it’d be expensive, but considering what we consumed—about seven or nine beers between us and an order of chicken—I don’t think $19 was too much money to spend.) Here the conversation moved from American/Korean cultural differences to more political topics—war and abortion really, and which was more abhorrent. (Those who know me can guess where I stood on each issue.) It was actually the first time I’d had a frank discussion on either topic for quite some time, perhaps since even before going to University. Oh, and luckily the Koreans share this custom with the Japanese; whatever is shared over drinks is immediately forgotten the next day. We’re still friends despite our differences. What differences, you ask? Exactly.

Phoebe asked me the next day with a knowing smile whether or not I still thought Gomsaem didn’t like me. It is good to be among friends.

Overnight in 원주

My friend Lauren G., an ATE in Wonju, was singing in a concert featuring her church choir, so I thought I’d spend Sunday night there and come in to school a little late Monday morning. No big deal. I don’t teach Mondays anyway.

Stacey C., the other ATE assigned to Wonju, was of course there as well, and our friend Jenna N. was also visiting for the concert. I haven’t seen her since Yonsei Day, so it was nice to catch up on homestays and Korean learning and teaching. The nice thing about visiting people in Korea, I’ve found, is it’s not necessary to go out and do a lot of flashy things. Mostly you just want to sit and talk with them, compare notes and experiences and generally catch up. Lauren’s step-cousin was also visiting, and though they’re not related, I thought they looked very much alike.

Lauren had to warm-up and otherwise prepare for the choir performance, so Jenna, the Cous, and I all headed over to Stacey’s apartment for some liquid refreshment (fermented, but non-alcoholic, rice something or rather) and then went out to see a movie. Upon arriving, we found that Borne Supremacy was showing in about 10 minutes. I was super excited about seeing it, as I’d already heard good things from home about it, but it was sold out, so we went late to a showing of The Nanny Diaries. It was actually pretty interesting—an anthropological study of New England high society culture, and if there’s a book, I’m reading it. The fact that it starred Scarlet Johansson (who is my wife from when I played M.A.S.H. with the kids) probably helped my interest level, of course. I did notice that there were a few jokes that were probably only accessible for Americans, as no Koreans laughed at those jokes, or even cracked a smile. In general though, Koreans do not laugh in public preferring a stone-faced smile if something appeals to them, so that may have been the problem instead of the comedy’s efficacy.

After this, we sat at a café and talked until the concert. Lauren’s cousin, who works for a counter terrorism manufacturing company and especially on marketing biometric face recognition systems, picked up the check. We met Hwi Kyun, an RA from our days in Chuncheon, and proceeded to hear beauteous Korean words (and Latin words in the case of Vivaldi’s Gloria) set to traditional Western hymnody. I was actually quite pleased with the selections from Vivaldi’s Gloria section of the performance. Sure, their final consonants were a bit off as one might expect from people trained in a dialect that doesn’t recognize final ‘s’ sounds, but overall the nostalgia for those days when I was singing the Gloria in H.S. displaced any technical musical errors that may have displeased my ears. I actually had to restrain myself from singing along…

It really was a nice concert though. There was even an interpretative dance in the middle that acted as a sweet sherbet to cleanse the pallet in between choral sets.

Afterwards, Lauren’s host family took us out for 샤부샤부 (shabushabu), a combination of Korean beef and seafood served in a soup, followed by 쭉 (jjuk), rice porridge made from the soup’s broth. The host father greatly appreciated having someone to drink with, and I apparently have a standing invitation to visit whenever I like, an invitation which the host mother quickly cautioned me about, since she apparently does not want her husband drinking as often as my visits.

At some point during the meal, Lauren was once again scolded by her host family for not being a good friend, saying that our eating dinner so late was her fault and that if we were Korean friends we would have been very insulted. I told the host mother in Korean that it was different in America, that one’s friendship does not depend upon eating food. In other words, I tried to defend Lauren, but to no avail apparently. Ah, well. Lauren, who speaks Korean decently well as her dad is Korean, told me that she was impressed I had managed to get that much out in Korean though. I was more surprised that the host family had understood me.

I slept at Lauren’s host family’s apartment along with Jenna that night and took the earliest bus out (8:00 am) the next morning proceeding immediately to school. A bus ride was not exactly the way I wanted to start my school week, but for a friend’s concert and good company, it was definitely worth it.

Lazy, but Interesting Saturday : 노성제 (noseongjea) Festival

This Saturday I decided to take it easy. My host family had informed me that they’d be in Seoul for the weekend so I had no obligations as far as they were concerned, and I was still tired from the Bukhansan hike anyway, having never had an opportunity to properly recover after the hectic Sunday following it and the usual shenanigans during the week.

So, I slept in until some obscene hour, which was actually probably the not so obscene 10:00 am (though for me this is very late). I made myself a couple of cups of dehydrated instant coffee and burned some breakfast on the stove, which the family had left for me to heat up during the different meal intervals of the day. I started some laundry, watched some television, read some. And then I noticed that some hikers were going by the house. A lot of them in fact, in long procession. Some of them even stopped by the house to ask after the family. I told them that they were in Seoul, but I was able to understand that they wanted a refill on water, so I obliged them.

The reason for all the hiking was that there was a festival this weekend celebrating various things concerning the hamlet. One of those things was the defense of a local mountain 노성산 (noseongsan) during the 16th century Hideyoshi Invasion. So, to commemorate this event, people climb the mountain. They also do the other things typical of a festival: watch demonstrations, eat food, see a concert, drink a lot, etc. These latter things I was looking forward to doing later on in the day.

However, first I decided that it might be good to take a bit of a run. I’d had such a lazy day so far after all, and I thought getting out in the fresh air, taking in large gulps of it while I huffed and puffed along the roads of the hamlet, might do me some good. I ran out to the foot traffic bridge, across the river, around the rice paddies to the Rock Park (a predictably self-descriptive name given what is in the park, namely rocks), and back. Along the way, I happened upon a group of 6 or 7 middle school students who wanted to have a chat with the foreigner, so I obliged them. They were actually surprisingly proficient. Granted, I wouldn’t want to talk to them for more than an hour, but for a 10-minute conversation introducing each other, they did quite well.

After the run, I showered, changed out my laundry, and made for the festival on foot. Unfortunately, when I arrived at the festival, it seemed to be in a transitional phase. People were recovering from the afternoon and were not quite ready for the evening rush. Booths were being cleaned out, presentations were being put away, the main stage for that evening’s amateur “trot” singer competition was still being set up and sound checks were being performed. Generally, things in the passive voice occurred. I made my way up to the hamlet’s community center and arena to find things in a similar state. I was able to see some photography in the community center however and one of the photographers, 정 Eugene, struck up a conversation with me about his photographs of Europe and his audiophilia He gave me the name of his speakers even, as if I would have heard of those particular models. (I hadn’t.)

And then he told me those words that I dread to hear from any Korean in Korea who strikes up a conversation with me in English. “I’d like you to teach a class for the hamlet’s government.” Sigh… Immediately, any offer of hospitality becomes suspect. Indeed, he later offered for me to come to his house to listen to music and talk about it, but I can’t help feel that all he wants from me is my English. Granted, I’m fully willing to use my English as a bartering tool, in exchange for Korean lessons for instance, but at the same time I have no desire to sit in someone’s house while they shower me with food and offers of money (the latter which I cannot accept) while we awkwardly try to converse in my native tongue and I am constantly asked, “Is this right? Is that the correct expression?” I teach during the week. The weekends are supposed to be my time off when I can experience Korean culture, not practice my American culture in a Korean context.

At any rate, I politely told him that I was not allowed to teach English outside of my high school’s permission, that I had a contract that I had to abide by, and that if I was discovered in violation of said contract, I would be sent back to America, thus, I could not teach the government class he wanted me to teach. He’d have to talk to the high school about that. We (unfortunately) exchanged telephone numbers. Maybe I will take him up on his offer of a visit, but as I said, I suspect his motives. I am not a fan of the so-called Aristotelian “friendship of utility” and would like to avoid it at all costs.

Though, one positive benefit of all this is that I just had my first opportunity to practice receiving a business card in Korea, something which requires a bit of attention to detail (receive with both hands, examine the card carefully, do not put it away until the person you’re conversing with is distracted, etc.). Once again though, this is a bit of a utilitarian perspective to my having met this man. Sigh…

Upon leaving the community center, I met one of my adult students outside quite by accident. She was talking with some of her friends, so I decided to say hello to her in English and hello to her friends in Korean. This was fortunate as I now had a friend for the evening. I found out from her that she went to seminary at one point, but upon meeting her husband there decided that she’d much rather be a pastor’s wife than a pastor. It seems my advanced adult class abounds with theological persons—one student, a pastor, another, a pastor’s wife, and I, a pastor’s son and perhaps one day a pastor myself.

She eventually introduced me to a poet from the area, 엄기종 (another religious figure, as I believe that all people who devote their lives to poetry believe in some kind of God or at least muse), who ended up treating us all to sam-o-something, a delicious entrée combining the fattiness of samgyeopsal and the chewy-ness of squid. I actually felt rather bohemian during the entire evening. I was after all sharing food and drink with a poet, bleary eyed about life and love and nature and the founding of his hometown. He was a fantastic storyteller (or maybe it was my student who was a fantastic translator of his stories), and it was during this time that I discovered the true meaning of Noseongjea.

There are apparently two stories that accompany this festival, which acts as a sort of founding day for the hamlet. The first story is this:

Hideyoshi, a great Japanese shogun, decided to invade Korea in the 16th century. Korea, at that time, had no standing, organized national army. Why should it? It was not as if invasions happened every day, and most military power was feudally organized so that the king could call on troops if absolutely necessary, but with a benevolent China to the north protecting Korea as a tributary and a “dwarfish” people (the Japanese) safely across the East Sea, the was no reason for the king to ever actually call on them. (A Confucian scholar, however, had warned the king a few decades before the invasion to raise an army of 100,000 troops. The king did not listen.)

Hideyoshi easily overran much of Korea as most of Korea’s soldiers had rested in bellicose idleness (i.e. they’d become farmers). But the magistrate of the hamlet I’m living in decided to try and make a defense. He built a fortress atop Noseongsan and there fought the Japanese to the last man. They lost, of course, but the people of the hamlet still celebrate the event as the county had the will to fight the Japanese, even if they had not the means.

Another story associated with the Noseongjea Festival is one that is fairly similar to many Native American legends, especially that of Princess Wee-no-nah near Winona, Minnesota, in that a woman decides to kill herself to preserve her honor.

Three Japanese generals in Busan had made a wager about which could arrive in Seoul first during the invasion. One of these generals chose to go through my hamlet’s area, though I am unsure if it is the same general that fought the Koreans on Noseongsan in the story above.

Now, the Japanese soldiers were of course enjoying the spoils of war as any invading country did in the 16th century. In particular, they were enjoying the Korean women they had captured at the expense of their and their husbands’ honor. One woman in particular, the most beautiful woman in the county, of course, and the wife of the county magistrate decided that she would not allow her honor to be sullied, however, and instead threw herself from a very high cliff.

Now, the general happened to see this, and was so moved by this woman’s desire to preserve her chastity that he stopped his army in the hamlet to bury her himself. Thus, he lost the bet, but showed honor to the Korean spirit despite the travesties his soldiers wrecked upon the land.

I was also informed during the course of the evening that my hamlet’s name means “Way of Peace” or maybe more accurately, “Gateway to Peace”. (Earlier this year, I had plugged the name into Google Translator and got back “Window of Criticism”. Google Translator for Korean to English is still in BETA, so I guess I can cut it a break.) With such a name, the Poet was of the opinion that the county, which goes by the same name, would be a perfect candidate for the International Winter Sports Competition featuring a flag with five rings, and thus was sure to win the bid for 2018. One can only hope.

It turns out that the Poet ended up being my host for most of the rest of the evening, despite the fact that he could not speak English. We had fun using my phone’s dictionary to learn new words though, especially 뿔꽃 (bbulggot, sparkle) to describe the lone professional singer’s dress. My student and her family dropped us off at the festival where we watched some of the concert. Here, a little girl from church approached me with a dried squid head, which I politely nibbled on until I could throw it in the grass. (It was a little fishy…) My host grandmother saw me with the Poet and we had to assure her that I was alright where I was and didn’t need an escort for the rest of the night.

The Poet was apparently bored with concert and ushered me over to the soju tents where we met some of his friends, my TKD kwanjangnim included. Drinking is apparently the main event at these festivals. Many of my students were around that night, so I told the old men that I could not drink a lot, but I still shared a few shots with them. Eventually, the woman administering drinks noticed that we were neither eating nor drinking, but merely loitering and insisted (politely, I’m sure) that we pay and continue on our way. This we did.

I was a little worried about getting home at this point, as my ride, the Poet, was clearly sloshed. Fortunately, my friend from church H.W. and her sister H.J. came to the festival to meet me. We walked around a bit and talked about our weeks and how I would have to leave early on Sunday afternoon, so the tutoring may seem a bit much. Just idle conversation really. H.J. does not speak very good English, so I practiced a bit of Korean with her. Eventually, we said goodnight and I began my sojourn back to the house on foot, regretting that I had not rode my bike to the festival instead. This gave me an opportunity to talk with Glypie G. about her adventures in Busan at the international film festival—apparently navigating the mainland’s mass transit system is much harder than navigating Jeju Island’s—and the possibility of her visiting the hamlet, which we decided was impossible. Ah, well. I will see her and everyone else at the upcoming Gyeongju Conference.

And then came some unexpected trouble. I knew that my host family would be returning Saturday at some time, but I was not sure when. Since it was past 10:00 pm, their car was predictably in the driveway, but much to my surprise, both locks on the front door were locked. I only have a key for the one. Well, perhaps they’re inside, I thought. They do tend to lock both locks when they’ve gone to sleep, and I’m sure they were tired from the trip to Seoul. So, I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. No answer. I tried the side window and the back door with similar results as well as shouting into the house a very formally polite annyeonghashibnika into the house to no avail. Well, perhaps they went to the festival on foot (parking was a nightmare after all) and chose to lock both locks on their way out for some odd reason. Presumably, they’d have a key for both after all. No ill will towards me, I’m sure. They must’ve just forgot that I don’t have a key for both locks.

Rather than wait outside for their return, I decided to sneak in via my usual path when I’ve forgotten my keys. I’ll not go into the details on the off chance that a hamlet resident is reading, but let’s just say it involves a bit of awkward free climbing. I finally made it into the house, only to discover my host mother and father sleeping soundly on the living room floor.

Well! I never!

At any rate, I retrieved my effects from outside (I’d removed them for the sake of the climbing), and made my way as quietly as I could to my room a little perturbed. The next morning, I surprised the host family quite a bit when I appeared from my room. The mother turned from her hair brushing to exclaim, “Oh! Jeremy! 언제 왔어요? (When did you come?)”

What apparently had happened was this: The host family had thought that I was going to Wonju for the weekend, which was true, but they also thought I’d left Saturday and would return Sunday, which was false. I was still to leave on Sunday and would return on Monday. This may have been my fault however as my days of the week are not nearly as fluent as they could be. I suppose I may have confused 일요일 (ilyoil, Sunday) with 토요일 (toyoil, Saturday) when I was informing the family of my plans for the weekend.

Teaching: Week 5

This week teaching was pretty boring actually. I sat in the office a lot and did pretty much nothing. The first and second years were having their mid-terms so I didn’t get to teach my first high school class until Thursday, and all but one of my adult classes were cancelled. That class, in itself, warrants its own post, but I’ll include it here as well.

The high school lesson plan was a M.A.S.H. lesson working with the future tense that my friend Glypie G. created. The kids asked each other who’d they marry, what car would they drive, what job would they have, etc. They liked it, but the activity took too long and I didn’t explain it very well. I’m still thinking of using it a later week that’s fuller. I would have had three high school classes this week, but the students had to prepare a presentation for a festival on the weekend, so my Friday afternoon classes were cancelled.

Most of my Advanced Adults ended up showing up on Tuesday because I couldn’t inform them that class was cancelled for the week. I told them that I was very sorry, but we’d have to move our class back. I think some of them may have been disappointed with me or with the school, but I’m not sure. I was worried that they were paying for their lessons and thus were not getting their money’s worth, but I later found out that the lessons are a free service offered by the school to the community at large, and felt better about it then. Still, a month and half without seeing those fine conversants makes me a little sad.

The beginning adult class took me out for lunch on Thursday. The school was still in Midterms, so class was cancelled for the day. We ate samgyeopsal, my favorite Korean dish. This was enjoyable even if we couldn’t really talk to each other a lot.

Beginning Adult class on Friday would have been business as usual. We were going to do a lesson from the text book and then move on to polite expressions. But something unexpected happened.

A man, who will hereafter be described as “The Character”, came to class. His English is probably advanced intermediate level, but he mispronounces things severely and sometimes does not understand how to use a word in a sentence so that the sentence makes sense, so that I can barely understand him most of the time. Well, another student is always welcome, I suppose.

But there is a slight problem with The Character, and that is this: He wants to learn to English through osmosis. In other words, he just wants to talk in class and not learn what I have to teach the class for the day. Thus, he ends up being more of a distraction and occupying more of my time on an individual basis than I would prefer for the classes sake. Besides this, when he does strike up a conversation in class, he is not really listening to what I say. With most students, I repeat back what they say in correct grammar and then they repeat what I just said so they can understand what mistakes they were making. This guy just responds back, “Yes!” to everything I say. He has a superior air about him, and seems to be reticent to learn at the pace the class needs to learn. After all, not everyone is as advanced as he is. (There is one other student in class who is close, perhaps more advanced, but she understands that the others need to work at a slower place.)

Very frustrating, and I fear I may let the frustration get the best of me. If that is the case, I may have to tell him that he needs to “behave” in class, meaning he needs to do the activities along with the rest of us for the sake of the class. If he wants extra work, that’s fine. I’ll give him extra work. But if he insists on being a nuisance we’ll have to work something else out.

Eating with Lauren's Hostfamily

On Thursday evening, I got a call from Lauren G., a fellow ATE placed in Wonju. Her host family and she were passing through town and wondered if I’d like to grab a quick bite to eat. I said, “Sure,” and after giving them some apparently very confusing directions (in their defense, I don’t know my house’s address and giving bridges as landmarks isn’t all that helpful as there are about 6 or so bridges in my area), they eventually picked me up and we headed into town.

We finally stopped off at a Myeongtae restaurant, which is a fish specialty for the local area apparently. Tasty, but my memory is too far gone to make further remarks on it. I do remember that it was rather expensive though, so it is unlikely that I’ll try it again. If I do, I will leave you know.

The hostfamily carted Lauren off to choir practice before she could meet my family, something which I will have to amend at some point with her. The host family was a little disappointed it seems that she left so early…

Long Term Financial Planning to Meet Long Term Language Goals (10/3)

I’ve been meaning to make a budget for sometime now so I can know how much money I will have for Winter Break traveling and language classes. On my grant, I receive 1,400,000 won every month. (That’s right! With my first paycheck, I was a millionaire! Booyah! I have a feeling a show like “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” might not work out here…) of that:

+ 1,400,000 won
-TKD 70,000 won
-Cell Phone 30,000 won
-Travel 100,000 won
-Misc. 100,000 won

+ 1,100,000 won

If I can actually manage to pocket that much per month, by winter break I’ll have about 4,400,000 won. By the end of the grant term, if I’m frugal, I could have as much as 9,000,000 won, which, at about $9,837, would be a nice cushion for when I return to the states and allow me to pay down some loans (and buy an iPhone! … Hey! Who said that?). Still, I want to be able to explore Korea a bit (and also have some fun), and I realize that will take some money. I think a more realistic goal for the end of the grant term would be around $5,000, but I do want to try and make that 4,400,000 won goal for Winter Break. Living on my own in a city with only language classes to occupy my time is going to be expensive.

[NOTE: This post is slightly ironic given what I said below about Americans coming to this country for the money...]

Weekly Letter Home - Pauline Turns to Pop Culture

Dear Family and Friends,

God’s peace be with you! I hope you are well wherever you are. For those of you in school who are tired, I’m praying that God may help you with that, but from my experience it’s a mountain he wants you to climb, not move. Bear with it. For those who are unwell, I am praying for that too (especially you, Grandma!). May God grant you comfort and may you rest secure in that comfort until you find your full rest in Him. For those who have trials of other kinds, please let me here from you.

Of course, if you have joys let me hear those as well! I just miss people in general and would enjoy your correspondence. I promise, my more personal letters are not the tomes I send out on a (semi-)weekly basis.

Speaking of which, below you will find the update for last week, accompanied by the finished account of my friends’ visit from two weekends ago.

Things are going well here. I am tired, of course, but what else is new? I’ve earned my Green Belt, been on a hike up one of the harder climbs in Korea (not the hardest, not yet, at any rate), and met some friends.

One thing that has troubled me (and this may seem silly) is that I’ve lost touch with some great American pastimes. I’m still doing Fantasy Football with my housemates from VALPO, but, without games to watch with them, it’s not nearly as fun. I’ve also missed the season premiere of HEROES, one of my favorite shows on NBC, as well as episode two. I’ll have to just stop in a PC-bang later this week to watch them online.

Luckily, my sister has been keeping me up to date on all of the youtube.com videos of Justice League Unlimited, Batman, and Superman that I could ever hope for. I’ve also rediscovered my love for listening to Five Iron Frenzy albums straight through, which has been far more uplifting than the habit I’d developed here of listening to Linkin Park albums. The music is just as loud, and the screaming from both bands is phenomenal, but the more sonorous tone and jazz keys of Five Iron’s punk-ska sound is just plain happier than Park’s head banging cacophony.

At any rate, enjoy the letter!

Love,

Jeremiah

The Sunday After—Unintended Hiking, Slightly Awkward Tutoring, and Very Little Recuperating

During my bus trip back to the hamlet, I finished what homework remained for my tutoring lesson. I arrived at my destination around 10:15 am, and instead of troubling my host family, who were probably preparing for service at that point, for a ride, I decided to walk back via the trail. One would think I’d have had enough hiking by now, and my legs certainly complained about it, but it would be sorter than walking by means of the road.

Then, I did something very stupid. I took a look at a fork in the trail and said, “I’ve never been this way before, I wonder if it goes to that footbridge I’ve wanted to get to for a while…” Well, it did, and about forty minutes later, I was in completely unknown territory and an unknown time from my house. So, legs sore, body tired, and lacking water, I started taking trails that would lead me back to the river, if not my house. So much for taking it easy after that Bukhansan hike, but I did gain some valuable knowledge about the deer paths on the mountains, and even found a trail to a peak that I’ll want to try someday.

I stumbled my way into the house, fell asleep for about twenty minutes, changed into something more suitable for church, and, because it looked like rain, began my walk, this time along the flat road. I called my friend, H.W., to tell her I’d be late for tutoring, and she told me to meet her at the parsonage behind the church. I did well on the grammar constructions for tutoring, but need to bone up on my vocabulary, something which has been the bane of my existence with every language I’ve tried to study. The lesson was in her bedroom this time, which was slightly awkward. I don’t want to give anyone at the church the wrong impression, so I’ll have to ask if we can remain in a slightly more public setting next time.

After nearly falling asleep a couple of times in the afternoon service (I was running on about 6 hours of sleep plus a catnap after an all day hike and I couldn’t understand the sermon as it was in the Korean, so my eyes were rather insistent), I walked home. I have a feeling H.W. would have liked to talk for a bit more, but I was really too tired for more socializing. I’ll have to make it up to her next week. After all, if I’m not paying her, we should make this at least a language exchange.

I picked up some bananas on the way home to get some potassium to help with the cramps. There were about fourteen in the bunch, so I ate four on the way home and gave the rest to my host family. At that point, I believe I tried to write some, but I was too tired to do much. (It is Wednesday now, and I still have not recuperated.) I tried reading then. Still to tired. Watching T.V. was also taxing. So, I gave up, bid the family goodnight, and hit the hay. Finally.

(Incidentally, the family is well now. My host brother used improvised sign language to proudly tell me, “Eye! No!” (He pointed at his eye, then waved his arm wildly in a back and forth motion.) I can now touch things again. Hooray!)

Weekend in Seoul – Climbing Bukhansan (9/28-9/30)

After school on Friday, I biked home as fast as I could and packed for my weekend in Seoul, being very careful about choosing only items I would want to carry with me for the entire weekend as we would not have a place to keep our things during the day. For a couple of weeks now, a fellow ATE, Jon F., and I have been throwing around the idea of going hiking. Originally, we wanted to climb Seoraksan, which is supposedly the most beautiful and most difficult mountain in all of South Korea. (There is one in North Korea on the border with China that is rumored to be even more beautiful.) It’s a two-day hike, but supposedly well worth the time commitment. Both of us have 3-day weekends, so it shouldn’t have been a problem, but unfortunately his 3-day weekends start on Friday and mine end on Monday. We decided to pick another mountain. His communications back to me were fairly sporadic, but he finally discovered a couple of good mountains right outside of Seoul. One was supposed to be a five-hour hike, the other a six-hour, so if we were really ambitious, we could do both in one day!

My trip over was an unexpectedly late one. The bus trip to Seoul takes about three hours (at 12,800 won), and I could’ve sworn there was a 5:45 bus, making my estimated time of arrival about 8:45. (I’d abbreviate estimated time of arrival, but I fear this may be misinterpreted as my job title and thus incur the wrath of the Powers that Be.) Unfortunately, the bus was slotted to leave at 6:45, so I had about an hour and fifteen minutes to kill in the hamlet. During this time, I did some Korean homework, listened to some music I had downloaded to my PDA, and also discovered some surprisingly cheap street food in the marketplace. I usually go there at night when the vendors have closed up shop until tomorrow morning because I’m just making my way from TKD to my host family’s beauty shop. I’ll have to go more often during the day, however, because I picked up some delightfully greasy egg, meat, and pepper silver-dollar sized paddies at five for 1,000 won! It makes me wonder what the other street food is selling for.

I finally arrived at Dong Seoul Bus Terminal around 9:30 pm and met Jon F. at the local subway station, where I discovered that I had left my subway pass card from Yonsei Day at home and had to purchase a new one. We made our way to a jjimjilbang (24-hour Korean bathhouse with common areas for relaxing, entertainment, and sleeping) called Siloam. It was a little on the pricey side for a jjimjilbang (around 10,000 won when most are around 6,000 or 7,000), but it was so nice that we decided to sleep there both nights we would stay in Seoul.

The next day, Saturday, we got a late start, so we decided to pick one of the mountains on our itinerary and save the other for another time. The mountain we chose was Bukhansan, which at its peak becomes very steep, bald-faced rock so that it’s nearly impossible to climb without assistance (i.e. a rope). Now, most hikes to such mountains in America will just bring you to a lookout point so that you can see the mountain even closer, or will bring you to the base of the insurmountable part and have a sign saying, “Welcome to the mountain. You’ve seen it. Now go on your way.”

Not in Korea however. In fact, at the top of this mountain was a decent sized flag, scaffolding, a heavy marble marker, and even a vendor selling Bukhansan handkerchiefs and pins for those fortunate enough to have earned them by making it to the top. All this despite the fact that you practically pull yourself up the mountain by means of a rope and metal posts that have been driven into the rock for the final kilometer or so of the ascent. (If you’ve ever climbed Half Dome at Yosemite National Park in California, you may know what sort of hike I’m talking about. I’ve heard it is similar, at any rate.)

(NOTE: The Ubiquitous Pigeon was at the top as well, which I don’t find nearly impressive, as he can fly, but still slightly impressive in that he chose to fly that high, whereas most pigeons are content to walk on the flat plazas and sidewalks near eating establishments or where people have established themselves temporarily for eating.)

Also typical of Korean hikes, it seems, the trail went straight up the mountainside, the Koreans apparently having never heard of a switchback. Even if there is a “switchback” in the trail, it is usually bypassed in favor of a more direct route. This led my friend Jon to comment that there must be a law somewhere that says Korean trails must be impossible to climb for at least 30% of the population. 60% in the case of foreigners, I added.

Koreans even wear special gear for hiking. They have synthetic fiber clothes designed for wicking away sweat and keeping the body’s temperature normal. They have matching telescoping poles that they use to keep pace and help them up steep soil, and sometimes even a third pole for when they don’t feel like coordinating two hands. They have special gloves, special hats, special bags, special shoes. The only time I have ever seen a Korean person where sunglasses (besides when my host uncle had pinkeye) was during hiking. And I’ve never been hiking while the sun was out! My point is it’s all part of the uniform. We may have all of this in the U.S., but most people will just go in shorts and a t-shirt. Korean people, when they do anything athletic, apparently have to wear the whole outfit. When they bike, there’s an outfit for that. Rollerblading is the same. Hiking is no different. At any rate, I’ve resolved to collect an entire outfit by the time I return home to the states.

These facts in consideration, it makes me think that perhaps the Korean phrase 산책는 곳 is poorly translated to English as “hiking”. It is sometimes even translated as “strolling”. In other words, the sentiment is recreational walking in general.

Given both of my experiences, first at Songnisan and now at Bukhansan, I think “mountain climbing” might be a more appropriate translation, so long as one keeps the idea of rock climbing as a separate category, which, despite the ample amount of rocks in Korea, is not a popular activity.

It was beautiful though, and well worth the climb. In total, the hike took us about 5 hours including breaks. During this time, I don’t think we covered more than 8 kilometers, and certainly not more than 10. As I said, the trails are steep, and not designed for land speed records.

About half way up the trail, we came to the top of the mountain range, where we discovered a king had built a walled fortress and auxiliary palace during the Three Kingdoms period and later to fend off Mongol invasions, which he was not successful at. Just imagining carrying all of that stone to the top of the range made me wonder at the power that king must have wielding. Even if they carried it from the top down, it could not have been easy given the mountain’s steepness.

In fact, we saw some construction workers restoring a portion of the wall, which essentially involved taking perfectly cut stone and chiseling it to make it look jagged and worn. But as for the poor workers who delivered the stone to that site, I imagined this dialogue:

Deliverer: Here’s your stone. Where do you … … want it?
Worker: Oh, just put it down there or something.
Deliverer: Ok. Man, it was hard getting that thing up here! And look at that! Not a scratch on it. Had to be really careful with it to do that! A satisfactory delivery, right?
Worker: Yeah, sure. Whatever.

To be honest though, we did see a helipad at one of the rest stops, so perhaps they just had to carry the stone over, rather than up. Still, admirable.

That evening, we ate at a decent restaurant. I had teriyaki chicken, while my friend had the bibimbop, being the conscientious vegetarian that he is. We actually joked on the trail that his being a vegetarian must give him unlimited strength and endurance, as he was certainly cruising along while I huffed and puffed my lagging way behind. Afterwards, I had coffee and cheesecake at a Starbucks to get my fix of Western food for the next week or so. I never know how long it will be, so I have to stock up like the squirrels in fall preparing themselves for the winter chill.

We decided that it would be a good idea for me to check the time schedule at Dong Seoul Station before tomorrow morning so I could attempt getting back to the hamlet before my weekly tutoring lesson. I couldn’t find my town on the bus schedule, however, so with assurances from a friend over the phone that it was possible to get a ticket directly to my small little village, I made my way over to the ticket booth and said the words that ended any chance of recuperation for the weekend:

Naeil the hamletae gayo. (Tomorrow, I am going to the hamlet.)

They of course gave me a ticket for the first bus out of there at 7:10 am. We calculated the time it took by subway to get to our jjimjilbang and found it to be about one hour, meaning I’d have to wake up at 5:45 am to be safe. Sigh…

We had a little trouble navigating the green line back to the jjimjilbang (We accidentally took a spur off that line instead of the main line.), but our time on the subway had been good for catching up all weekend, so the conversation made the time pass quickly. We did the usual comparing of notes on homestays and schools. His school experience has been vastly different because he teaches elementary students instead of high school. He also told me about a Winter Korean language intensive program in his area that I may attend to bone up on my language skills. We wound up at the jjimjilbang around 10:45 and, after bathing and sitting in the cool room for a while, finally went to sleep around 11:30.

One conversation of note that we had during the weekend was on how it was always a little awkward seeing other expatriates in Korea. One always feels compelled to greet these complete strangers, but then one would be faced with the awkwardness of feeling, “I have no idea who you are, but you’re like me and perhaps have had a similar trouble in adjusting here and I’d really like to just sit and talk with you about it.” It’s also awkward perhaps because in the United States we’re conditioned not to think differently of people just because of outward appearance. Whether this conditioning works or not is up for debate, but most people still at least think to themselves, “It is culturally wrong for me to think of this person as different from any other person based on their skin color.” Thus, I always feel a little ridiculous when I see a fellow foreigner and immediately think to myself, “Friend!” After all, are not the Koreans all around me decently friendly people?

It is different in Korea at least to some extent though. One is surrounded by so much homogeneity that one is immediately drawn to the different, especially if that one grew up in what would be surprising (perhaps even overwhelming) diversity compared to the Korean context. I’m not sure if it’s something I’ll ever get past. Or even want to get past for that matter.

Sunday morning I woke up around 6:00 am, later than I should have, hurriedly changed, said goodbye to Jon, promising each other that we’d do it again sometime, and was out of the jjimjilbang by 6:10.

I was as dignified as possible, of course, but I was also practically running to each subway station in my attempt to get to Dong Seoul Terminal before my bus left at 7:10. I calculated the average time it took between stops to be 2 minutes and examined my subway map to determine when I should arrive at my stop. When I got on the green line, I fervently prayed that I had gotten on the right spur and would not be sent off one stop in the opposite direction before I could correct my mistake. I arrive at Dong Seoul at 7:02, enough time for me to get a 300 won iced coffee from the vending machine. I downed it and ran to the bus. No breakfast, no water, a spoonful of coffee, and two hours to the first resting area, but I was on the bus at 7:05. Five minutes to spare.

Teaching: Week 6—Scheduling Nightmare!!!

Because of Chuseok this week, I only had two effective teaching days at the High School, Thursday and Friday. Even these turned out to be a bit of a surprise, however.

On Wednesday night, as I was attempting my blog update for September 26th (given their length, they are feats worthy of the word attempt), I received a call from Chongtae. I only risk mentioning his name regardless of the wrath I may incur from the Powers that Be as I so stupidly did not recognize it as the name of one of the English teachers. This was embarrassing when he called and introduced himself, and I owed him a great apology.

(In general, circumstances have not allowed me to get to know this English teacher. His office is in a different teacher’s lounge than mine, and he is one of the few co-teachers that will allow me to have completely full reign of the classroom, probably because his kids are so advanced. It is unfortunate because we share many common interests, our love for movies and animation for instance, and he is the only teacher who has showed interest in my academic research during my undergraduate years. If you remember the “Hello, Kitty” car post, it was his car that brought me so much levity.)

At any rate, Chongtae invited me to teachers’ Chuseok barbeque out by the teachers’ apartment. One of the other English teachers had graciously opened up his ample supply of meat products, and a few teachers were enjoying these as they cooked and charred over an open fire. This is a rarity in Korea, as most meat products are cooked either in soups or in a pan, so that open fire cooking is seen as “Western” style in some way. The teacher who supplied the meat informed me that he preferred meat cooked over charcoal rather than meat cooked in a pan without the extra smoky flavor. (I cannot believe that smoky is spelled correctly, but Word assures me it is. Heaven help us…)

It was at this barbeque that I casually dropped mention of the fact that there were no classes on Thursday morning (the next day) because of examinations. The other teachers who could understand me looked at me with surprise. “Really?” they asked. “Where did you hear that?” At this point, I begin to worry. My co-teacher had told me that on Thursday morning there would be no classes, I explained. We called her, and she said that she had meant that the next Thursday morning there would be no classes. In fact, I eventually discovered that the next week Monday-Thursday morning I would have no classes to teach at all! Mid-terms would be held Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday morning, and Wednesday was Founding Day, a national holiday in remembrance of Tangun (http://www.lifeinkorea.com/information/tangun.cfm), the mythical ancestor of the Korean people.

At this point, I begin to panic. I had not prepared any class plan for Thursday morning, intending to create that week’s lesson during that time so that it would be ready for the afternoon and Friday. After a quick phone call to a fellow ATE, Glypie G., I was a bit calmer. I asked her if she thought a brief Chuseok dialogue might go over well, and she told me that she thought that’d be ok. Well, if she says it’d be ok, it must be, right? Regardless, it did comfort me. The next morning, I hurriedly typed up a brief English dialogue between a foreigner and Korean explaining what Chuseok is. I then gave this lesson to my 1-1 Class in the afternoon.

The other reason I was worried was because the schedule change meant I would have to announce to my Beginning Adult class that class, which I canceled for this Thursday because of the exams, would also have to be cancelled for next week’s Thursday because I didn’t understand the schedule. I relayed this to them on Friday, at which point they graciously forgave me and offered to take me out to lunch that Thursday instead, to which I agreed without hesitation, though I think I should be taking them out to lunch to be honest.

The new schedule also meant I was faced with the embarrassing situation of telling my Advanced Adult class that there would be no class the next week for them as well despite the fact that we’d already not seen each other for a week and half. Now we’d be at over a full half-month without meeting. If they are paying for these classes, I hope the school will refund a portion of their money. At least their Plato assignment should be well-rehearsed for the week after next…

As for the lessons themselves, they were a bit chaotic. The breakdown was as follows:

Thursday 2-2 and 1-1 both practiced the Chuseok dialogue I had prepared. For a warm-up activity, I had them translate 화장실 어디에 있어요? (Where is the bathroom?) to English. Then, I followed the general lesson format of Jacob, two ATE’s back, who often did dialogues with his students, having them memorize each one by the end of class. (I was able to scrounge up his lessons and advice on the school computer’s hard drive thanks to the file path left by Dana. Thanks, Dana!)

On Friday, I explained to the Beginning Adult class the dilemma I was faced with scheduling, and afterwards we began our lesson from English through Teamwork, the text I’ve decided to work through to make sure everyone is on the same page with their speaking abilities. The first topic was predictably easy with them, but I was able to do some role play to make it fun for them. We practiced name introductions, and I even let one brave soul be the teacher for a while. For the second hour of class, we did the Chuseok dialogue I had prepared for my high school students. This constituted survival English for the day, which I think is appropriate. Being able to describe one’s own culture to inquiring souls is something I wish I could do on a daily basis living with my Korean family.

Friday afternoon I was supposed to have two high school classes, 1-4 and 2-3. I decided to forgo the Chuseok dialogue with 1-4 in favor of playing “Go Fish!” with them, an American card game usually taught to small children. They enjoyed this, and I enjoyed teaching it with my co-teacher as it allowed us to reinforce the “Do you have any ____?” expression. By the end of class, I was able to stop the game, and I had each student come up and ask me (acting as a store clerk) if I had different items. Usually, they asked for simple things like paper and pencil, but a few brave souls asked for things like knives and guns, with which they proceeded to rob me (creative little devils). One even asked for a knife, which I gave him, thanked me, gave me my money, and then stabbed me without taking his money back. Laughter ensued. Another more advanced student asked if I had any cigars and liquor. When I said he was too young, he said, “Oh, I left my I.D. in my car!” Fantastic English, and surprising! I showed everyone in class my driver’s license so they’d understand “I.D.” and told the student, “No I.D., no cigars and liquor.”

But why forgo the Chuseok dialogue? I need to keep lessons with 1-4 fairly active somehow. There is a mentally handicapped student in the class who can become bored and disruptive very easily if he isn’t occupied. For past ATEs, he was removed from the classroom, but I want to avoid this if possible. He has approached me on walks home to practice English and will always say, “Hello” to me, so I know he is anxious to learn. Still, I do not want the rest of the class to suffer from having “dumbed down” lessons. My challenge is to find a way to interest and challenge all with the same lesson at different levels. If I do have to remove him at some point (I hope I will not), I hope that I can still give him some sort of private instruction.

My final class, 2-3, would have done the Chuseok dialogue, however, if it were not for the usual teacher for that class. He requested to take the class from me because of the finals coming up next week. As soon as he requested it, I said to him, “It’s yours,” which got a laugh out of him. It was nice to leave school a little early as I had a bus to catch to Seoul for the weekend.

Now, I just need to figure out something to do for next week… Only two days of classes again. That M.A.S.H. lesson that’s floating around the ATE forums is looking mighty tempting…

Host Mother’s Birthday!

Friday morning, the family celebrated the host mother’s birthday. Unfortunately, I did not make it downstairs in time to sing with them, but I could hear the chorus from the bathroom upstairs, as well as the popping of party streamers. (They use the same Beatles birthday tune that we sing in America, though the words were Koreanized, of course.) In addition to the usual rice and fish soup, we had cake for breakfast. A winning combination, to be sure.

Host Family is Sick!

It turns out that the pink eye, which my host brother contracted from his uncle, has spread to the rest of the children in the family. I was advised to spend as little time as possible in the first floor’s common area. This actually made asking “permission” to go to Seoul this weekend all the easier. When the host father heard that I wanted to visit a friend there and go hiking, he said, “Yes! Go! Everyone’s sick, so get out of the house!” We all laughed at this. Hopefully they will be well again when I return.

(NOTE: About the “permission” – While I don’t actually ask permission to go places, I always try to check if the family is doing anything that they wanted me to attend with them. I don’t want to be rude, after all. They usually aren’t though, so I get my leave and go ashore, so to speak, by which I mean, I get to go to a city where they brew their coffee instead of mixing it from powder and have a beer selection beyond the Miller High Life-like domestic beers and Budweiser.)

Because of the sickness, my collegiate host sister stayed home from school a little past the Chuseok holiday. A bit of a blessing as she speaks at least decent English, and it made relaying my travel plans all the easier.

TKD: I am a Green Belt! Sorta…

I found out Thursday that I earned my green belt in TKD. I was a little worried because, after my rather poor performance on the test, I had never received a belt a no one even tried to tell me about it. I also ended up reviewing the second and third forms with a red-black belt all lesson, so that I thought I might need to test those forms again to advance.

To find out, I essentially walked up to the sabeonim after practice and said, “Noranti iaeyo?” (“Am I a yellow belt?”) He assured me that I had earned green belt, and that he would pass out the belts on Friday. I wouldn’t be there Friday, of course, but the knowledge was enough to assuage my fears.

I think that they must take other things into consideration when awarding belt—perhaps dedication, attitude, and willingness to learn. My performance certainly didn’t mean that I had earned the green belt, so it may be these other things that allowed for my success. In any case, I’ll have to be sure that for the next assessment, when I will attempt to earn a blue belt, there is no reason to doubt my receiving it.

Host Brother is Sick!

An unfortunate result of Chuseok was that, with all the family bonding and sharing of food, my host brother managed to contract pinkeye from one of his uncles. I have been told that I am not allowed to touch him or anything that he has touched. Thus, most of the toys in the house are now off limits, which does not matter at any rate because, more importantly, I have lost my playmate. Tear.*

Chess with Family

During her stay, Lydia H. was able to use her superior Korean skills to determine that my host brother really wants to learn how to play chess. Joy! So, I gave Rebecca H. a call, and she was gracious enough to purchase a chess set and bring it to me at the Hamlet.

I tried teaching my host brother how to play, but it turned out to be rather difficult so that, while I could get the basic moves down for him, he couldn’t necessarily use strategy, and I’m at a point where I have to think pretty hard to make it an even match between us. Luckily, his collegiate sister also developed an interest, and it wasn’t so bad playing against her. By now, host father also plays with great interest, and he has promised to teach me paduk (also known as go) in exchange. (For those who don’t know the game by either name, it’s in the movie “A Beautiful Mind”; it’s the game they play in the courtyard at Princeton (?). If you still don’t know what I’m talking about, watch the movie. It’s well worth the viewing. Or go to this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paduk.)

Video Games with Host Brother

One thing I learned about my host brother during Chuseok is that he’s absolutely crazy about video games. I suppose I should’ve realized this earlier. He is eight after all. Anyway, at the grandparents house, he was playing them like crazy with his cousins.

So, I finally broke down and showed him that I have an emulator on my computer with all of the Mario Bros. games. Let the chaos ensue. At any rate, he loves them, but I’m only let him play when I can supervise him. I worry about him breaking my rather expensive little Freya, who already probably needs a maintenance check, which is going to be hard to obtain in Korea. The country does not really cater to Macs.

Chuseok Festivities

And now, finally, we come to a description of what has kept me out of contact for so long: Chuseok. Chuseok is essentially a day in which Korean’s honor their ancestors by visiting their graves, presenting food, and bowing. This is mostly done for direct ancestor of the eldest patriarch (in most cases a great-grandfather), though in a Confucian hierarchy, other people besides this person may be honored. Koreans celebrate it on the 15th day of the 8th month on the lunar calendar, which fell on September 25th this year. This is also around the time of the rice harvest, and this fact combined with the fact that families consume a lot of food around this time lead Korean’s to translate this holiday as “Thanksgiving Day.” Unlike American Thanksgiving, though, Chuseok is apparently the biggest Korean holiday of the year, according to KBS Global (http://english.kbs.co.kr/news/zoom/1480466_11781.html).

Since the day’s surrounding the holiday are also national legal holidays, I did not have school on Monday through Wednesday. Instead, I spent time with the family which involved a lot of tomb visiting, eating, and sitting around watching television, though at one point, I did go fishing with a few of the children and one uncle. This largely involved the uncle using a small net trap to catch very small fish which we then released, while the children and I skipped stones. They were impressed with my abilities, though to be honest, I was surprised at them. How I got 11 skips out of one rock I’ll never know. I never used to be able to do even four!

One child in particular was a joy to meet. Her name is Nara, and she is actually a student at one of my fellow Entertaining Teachers from America’s schools, Stacey C. Unfortunately, she cannot take classes with Stacey because Stacey only teaches the lower grades and she is in the higher grades. At any rate, Nara (whose English name is Annika—some folks from Soul Purpose should appreciate that) speaks surprisingly good English for a student her age. She’s only 12 years old, Korean age, but already she can talk to me about literature. Granted, our conversation revolved mostly around Harry Potter, but her facility with the language was still impressive, and I’m sure she’ll probably do well in the Korean school system where knowledge of English language is the largest obstacle to advancement.

The first tomb visit, to the patriarch’s tomb, was fairly traditional from what I understand. There was food in front of the grassy mound that constituted the grave. The family members bowed in order of their rank from highest to lowest, getting on their knees, placing their hands in front of them horizontally so that they touched at the finger tips, and then lowering their foreheads to their hands. They performed this ritual twice. Then all (including me) helped eat the food given to the ancestors. (I am reminded of Peter’s and Paul’s discussions in Acts about whether certain foods are clean or unclean. I suppose I must take solace in the words of Christ that it is not what enters the body which is unclean, but that which comes out of it.) Then, my host father and one of his brother’s performed a smaller, but similar ritual for their great-grandmother, who apparently no one else was required to honor. It is also interesting that none of my host aunts nor my host mother accompanied us to the tomb. Also, only the eldest female daughter from each family came with us, while all of the sons were required to come.

After this, the grandmother gave out presents of socks to everyone, once again including me. They are my first pair of argyles, actually, and are quite comfortable. This is apparently a traditional Chuseok gift, or at least a common one, as many of my friends from the Program also received them.

Later on in the day we visited my host mother’s family tomb, this only with my nuclear host family, the others having gone back to Wonju. Her family tomb was quite a bit farther off the beaten path, and we had to walk through a couple of buckwheat fields to reach it. What was interesting here was that, though we presented food (a meager portion, but still an offering), instead of doing the traditional bowing, the family knelt and my youngest host sister prayed to Hananim, the Korean name for God. I think this was just a general prayer of thanks, like we would perform in America around our Thanksgiving. Whereas with the other service I had stood to the side and watched, I felt it would be appropriate for me to pray with the family now. And so, I listened politely until the prayer finished (as I do every Sunday for service), and said the “Amen” with them at the end.

Besides visiting family tombs, another Chuseok tradition is to offer a prayer to the moon. It is a tradition that if one offers a prayer to the full-moon, that prayer will come true. My family, however, just sat on the roof and looked up at it. Perhaps they offered a prayer, but if they did, it was silently. They did sing a traditional Chuseok song about the moon, and they were able to tell me about the image that Koreans see in the moon’s oceans. Whereas we see a face in the west, they see a rabbit at a ddeok (rice cake) churner with a frog hopping out from behind it. It’s a complex picture, and you have to use your imagination, but eventually you can see it. Kinda… (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/9/96/Man_In_The_Moon.jpeg/300px-Man_In_The_Moon.jpeg)

Overall, a good experience. If you’re lucky enough to visit Korea, I hope you’ll be lucky enough to have it. The homestay has really been a blessing in allowing me to participate in these usually more private family cultural events.

Dinner with Pastor’s family and tutoring

Because of Rebecca H.’s visit on Sunday, H.W. and I decided to postpone my tutoring lesson until Monday evening when I’d be at her father’s house anyway because her mother had invited me over for dinner. Rebecca cautioned me about this. It could be that the mother is trying to set me up with her daughter, but we both agreed that’d be a little weird by Korean standards. For one thing, she’s older than me and more degreed than me, usually a no-no in the Korean dating culture. For another thing, she’s taller than me. This is mostly a no-no even in American culture, though there are always exceptions to the height “rule”, and I’ve had to make them with every girl I’ve dated save two.

However, given that all of the extended family has lived in America for about 30 years and given that H.W. wants to study 18th Century Western Music at a grad school in the states, I think it’s wise to keep my guard up.

Dinner was largely uneventful. It was shared between the Pastor, an elder, H.W. and I. (The mother stayed in the kitchen for some—undoubtedly Confucian holdover-like—reason.) I spoke a tiny bit of Korean. Even they spoke very little in any language. Monday is usually the pastor’s day off, and he was quite tired from Sunday’s services.

After the dinner we all shared some coffee and H.W. and I went into the “pastor’s study to study” (H.W.’s words). I actually learned a few phrases that turned out to be quite useful in my upcoming visit to Seoul, such as “I came by ____insert mode of transportation____,” and “Transfer to ____destination____.”

Friends Visit – Sunday: Lydia returns to Seoul and a Day with Rebecca

Sunday was fairly uneventful, but seeing as Saturday was so eventful, I didn’t mind so much. Lydia headed out fairly early to catch her bus to Seoul. Rebecca came to church with my host family and me and met my friend/tutor H.W. The whole experience lifted my spirits a bit as for a lot of the morning I had to translate for Rebecca. I did this poorly of course, but it made me realize that I was in fact learning Korean at a bit of an accelerated rate considering I’m not taking classes.

We ate lunch at the church and decided to pass on the afternoon service, opting to walk home through the traveling market instead. The host family, who usually stays home on Sundays, decided to keep the shop open because of the Chuseok holiday, which gave Rebecca and I some quiet time to just talk about our homestays and school and life since orientation in general. There is some concern about her adjustment here. She was a Chinese literature and language major in college (she’s quite proficient, and perhaps borderline fluent), and I think she would have been much happier spending the year there. The problem is that she wants to work with an NGO in rural China, but doesn’t have enough money to begin paying off her student loans. I guess she figured Korea would be close enough for now, but I think she’s finding that Korea is worlds away from China culturally speaking. She’s hoping to go to China for a conference in November over American Thanksgiving. I tried to encourage her as best I could, but I fear that it may not have been enough. She is a wonderful person who has a great outer strength, but I do worry about her sometimes.

I cooked some dinner for us (by which I mean I warmed up whatever was on the stove), and eventually the family came over… with the extended family as well. It was at this point, I believe that I was told by one of the uncles that I look like Russell Crowe. (YES!) I always wanted to look ruggedly handsome and like I had just gotten out of a fight. I think what he meant was that I have a small, flattish nose and can grow a beard, but I’ll take it!

Rebecca and I talked and watched T.V. with the family until it was time to sleep. The next day, Monday the twenty-fourth, the host family drove Rebecca and I to the bus terminal where we waited for her bus. I only put so much emphasis on the date as a way of apology. I forgot that Monday was her birthday and was a bit of a prick therefore in not wishing her a happy one.

Friends Visit – Saturday: Rebecca Arrives, Exploring the Hamlet and Bongpyeong

Lydia came to watch the TKD testing and was equally confused about my going with the last group. She did come over to translate for a little bit though, but I fear that I was in a mood at that point and may have made her feel unwanted. Also, the sabeonim was giving instructions at that point, not about what she was translating, so I may have been perturbed a bit at her interrupting. At any rate, she told me that the children were reciting a letter to their mothers as part of the test, something I may want to memorize as well since some sort of spoken assessment is part of TKD testing usually. She also told me that the kwanjangnim thinks I’m doing well, but that I need to loosen up and relax my muscles when moving. This is something I’ve had problems with since Chuncheon even, and in general I have trouble relaxing my muscles even when trying to sleep. In fact, since starting TKD, with its emphasis on relaxing the muscles until the point of contact, I’ve noticed that when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I actually squeeze them a bit instead of letting them close naturally. Maybe this is why I’ve had trouble sleeping for… well, gosh, ages! It’s a hard habit to break, at any rate, and if I can’t get my eyes to relax without making a conscious effort, I somehow doubt that getting my legs to relaxing while kicking a target is going to be any easier.

We walked around the hamlet a bit after we mailed Dana’s black belt to Seoul, and she asked what was wrong. I was still in a mood for several reasons. One, the green belt test hadn’t gone well, which was frustrating. Two, I was still tired from last night’s drinking and hadn’t had a shower yet from last night’s TKD practicing, so I generally felt “icky”. Three, Lydia had told me that the family thought Jacob and Dana had picked up Korean faster than me, so they were able to talk to the family about more things. (My co-teachers have since assured me that this is not necessarily true.) This brought me low because one of the main reasons I came to Korea was to learn Korean, and I was having trouble getting actual instruction in the language due to the remoteness of my location. Talking out these frustrations with Lydia helped me, and I think what I have missed most living here is having someone from my own cultural background to talk to who knows how to console me using things from that culture. Even the teacher’s in the lounge kept commenting on how I looked so happy to have a friend in town on Friday. A little silly, I know, but the only other foreigners here aren’t even American, which, as I said in an earlier letter, means that even things like the 60s being the rebellious decade aren’t given cultural commonalities. I have no shared history with anyone within a 50-kilometer radius, and it is taxing.

We met Ryan at the bus terminal to await Rebecca’s arrival. Another happy meeting there with an old friend, and we were off on our tour of the hamlet. We drove to the other end of town and then took a walk out to the rock park out beyond the rice paddies on the East end. The rock park is essentially what it sounds like. A park with a bunch of rocks arranged in different ways, but they are nice to look at. (I mentioned in an earlier post that my host father does something similar on a smaller scale in the house as a hobby. I’ve since learned that this is called suseokhwei.)

By now, though, we were all ready to eat. (I was still in need of a shower, but food took precedence at this point.)

Now, on our way to the park, Ryan had asked about where I went to church in town, and I told him that, while I didn’t know the name, it was near a fairly well-known restaurant in the area called Serenade. He said he didn’t know it.

It was much to my surprise therefore when he suggested that we go to “Saeraenadae” (Serenade, Koreanized). Again, the reason why I was teaching the syllable lesson.

At any rate, Serenade offers what Lydia describes as a Korean-Western blend of menu choices, which she correctly defines as meaning, “They offer both Korean food and Western food.” Against everyone’s better judgment, including mine I ordered the spaghetti. (I wanted to order the sandwich on the menu, but they were out of the vegetables, bread, and lunchmeat…) When the spaghetti arrived, it was snack sized as far as Italian food goes, far too sweet to realistically have had any herbs or garlic in it, and it was topped with cheese. Not parmesian cheese, oh no! But Kraft American cheese, the kind you buy in singles packets from the grocery store to make cheap grilled cheese sandwiches. Fortunately, this less than satisfying entree was supplemented by my friends’ plates, which apparently had too much food on them.

We then played the traditional game of, “Let me pay the bill,” which in this case involved a physical race to the cash register as we attempted to prevent Ryan from paying. This continued throughout the rest of the day. I swear that he would’ve dropped $200 on us if we would have let him.

At this point, we haggled about what to do next (not even I mention the possibility of a shower, however, this going on 29 hours and two sessions of TKD without one) and eventually decide to head out to Bongpyeong to see Lee Hyo Seok’s house (my second visit) and Herbenara, or Herbland, a magical place filled with herbs (my first visit). We told Ryan that we’d help pay for gas, but he wouldn’t allow, following the Korean custom of loathing dutchpay.

Despite its cheesy name, Herbenara actually turned out to be a pleasant garden park. Admission was 5000 won. Classical tunes played with music box simplicity over the loud speakers as we strolled along the scented paths. There were areas to honor kitchen herbs, herbs mentioned in Shakespeare, herbs from the Bible, and other items. Since Rebecca and Lydia knew I had acted, they asked me to recite some of the Shakespeare lines posted on the signs in the Bard’s area. I think Andy White, my director from Romeo & Juliet would have been proud of my aspiration and sense of rhythm. Or embarrassed. We stopped in a greenhouse at some point and drank some hot herbal tea, which was a comfort as it unfortunately had been raining all day. This also caused the herbs to lose some of their scent I’m sure, and I hope to return on a warmer, sunny day when I can absorb their full force through my nasal passages. I have such a poor sense of smell as it is that something needs to be right under my nose to smell it most of the time.

After our adventures in Bongpyeong, we drove back to the hamlet under cover of darkness and ate dinner and shared light drinks at the restaurant I had met Ryan and Lydia at the night before. At some point during the conversation, it came out that Ryan thought that Lydia and Rebecca, who are both Asian (the former being Korean and the latter Chinese-German), were far more American than me. In terms of my attitude towards life, apparently, I’m pretty Korean. Lydia and Rebecca are loud and boisterous and crazy, yet guarded about their opinions, but I’m more of a stoic and relay my sincere feelings so that Ryan felt he could understand me better.

I find this interesting, though I don’t know if I’d agree. I do try to remain stoic about things, with the exception of happiness. (My guffaw offends the ears of those around me if I find something even slightly humorous.) I would also say that I try to be sincere.

At the same time, though, I don’t feel very Korean. There are still a lot of things here that I will never understand and may never even feel fully comfortable with. The physical attention couples show each other, for instance, where a boyfriend will grab his girlfriend’s neck in a choking gesture in order to show affection or the fact that if a girl crosses the threshold of a motel with a guy it means that she has consented to sex. Resistance just becomes part of the game at that point. Public drunkenness and displays of violence as well as people just watch idly by I’m not fully comfortable with either. But these are cultural things, and maybe it’s the fact that I just feel sincerely about them that makes me less American than some other expatriates here. This is not the case with Rebecca and Lydia, but with a lot of Americans in Korea, they’re just here for the money that can be had from “teaching” English. They will not bother to learn the Korean language, nor are they interested in the culture that surrounds them. They just want their money and a good time. A lack of sincere feelings indeed.

I’ll get off the soapbox now…

Ryan paid for the meal about halfway through the meal so that we couldn’t even fight him for the bill. Afterwards, we went to noraebang (karaoke), and we insisted that we pay, although he ended up buying drinks and snacks during the singing anyway. The man just didn’t know when to quit.

This was my first time actually singing at a noraebang, and it was about as enjoyable as I expected. Ah, well. Social activity in community does not always require full enjoyment, just full participation. I did call the night short, however, as I felt it would be inconsiderate to come back to the house much after midnight. Indeed, I felt it would probably be inconsiderate to come back after 11:00, but I wasn’t going to press the point. Lydia and Ryan thought we should stay out, but I reminded them that I have to live with my hostfamily in polite company for the remainder of my grant term. They didn’t have to live with the consequences of possibly offending them or, even I didn’t offend them, of seeming like an inconsiderate, rude American. Cultural ambassadorship and all that.

We said our goodbyes to Ryan (I got his phone number in case he ever returned to the hamlet), and we returned back to the house and composed ourselves for sleep as quietly as possible.

Oh, and I finally got my shower in… 40 hours and two sweat sessions since my last one. Yes!