As I stalked old friends on Facebook this morning (whatever, don't pretend you don't do it, too), I came across someone catching up with one of their old friends. He said, "Yep, I'm married and we have a baby daughter with another boy on the way. Sometimes we even shop at IKEA. Pretty much the boring suburban life."
A close friend of mine just gave birth to her second baby yesterday. My best friend is due within the next several weeks. Despite this, it took reading the above message for me to feel, if only for a few seconds, that maybe I wanted the same -- a "boring" suburban life. Settled down with a partner and *gasp* kids??? (Well, maybe not so much the kids part, but it was a nice thought.)
Suddenly, I felt very alone here in South Korea. What am I doing? Why aren't I doing the things "normal" 31-year-olds do? And then, I remembered: I DID do (some) of those things, or at least pursued them for a bit. I steadily worked in a 9-5 job for several years, attending happy hours with friends, and, ultimately, wondering where my life had gone. Was that all life had to offer? Were my dreams of traveling forever banished?
Turns out that, no, my traveling dreams and career opportunities were not banished, nor do I have to ever wonder where my life had gone. Now, my life is right here - I'm doing what I've always wanted to do. Yes, my choices sometimes afford me some loneliness... but I can't return "home" to plug away at a life not meant to be mine. My life-partner will emerge as I'm living the life I'm happy with. She'll come across my path as she's living the life she's happy with. I just have to remember that. And with the invent of magicJack and my newly acquired Skype account, keeping in touch with family and friends will be that much easier.
But, after visiting my family last week, it's still hard. As independent as I am, it's hard to miss out on best friends giving birth to their first (or second) babies. It's difficult not to be present for their weddings.
There's a balance to be had, I know, between work, family, and friends. It's just a little harder to maintain it being 8,000 miles away. But don't get me wrong, I still wouldn't trade my current position in life for anything else.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Fall arrives; Chuseok begins; another trip to Japan
The weather has turned. It's officially fall and I couldn't ask for better days and temperatures than those of today and the last few days. I've been on vacation for a week (whoo-hooo!) as Korea celebrated Chuseok... In celebration of the holiday, my coordinator at school gave me hand lotion, a coworker gave me New Zealand toothpaste (and, no, I don't think he was trying to tell me anything), and my vice principal gave two bottles of wine to the Western teachers (not individually). Yay for Korean holidays!
** About Chuseok -- Chuseok is a major harvest festival and a three-day holiday in Korea celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Like many other harvest festivals, it is held around the Autumn Equinox. As a celebration of the good harvest, Koreans visit their ancestral hometowns and share a feast of Korean traditional food such as songpyeon. **
Last Friday, my school held a dinner welcoming our new teachers after several of us hiked a mountain (which was beautiful)... The dinner was great, morale was high, and true to form, the evening progressed into a night of noraebong.
I left the following day for a five-day trip to Okinawa, Japan to visit my sister and nieces/nephew. Although short, it was a good to see them and I'm so happy that I had the time available to jet over there!
Unfortunately, I left my camera there (at least I didn't lose it), but it's going to cost a pretty penny to have it mailed to me. The question on my mind now is, is it worth it? Should I pay a fraction of the price of a new camera (probably the smarter, financially responsible thing to do) OR do I take the plunge and buy a new camera? Such decisions.
In the meantime, I'm going to set up a Flickr account to share my photos. Soon, I'll post the address.
I discovered a new path close to my apartment leading up to a small mountain and took full advantage of this crazy, beautiful weather by hiking the other day. I've also been playing catch-up on a number of random, relatively unimportant, but lingering organizational tasks lately. Makes me feel good and productive, but now, I think it's time for some fresh air!
** About Chuseok -- Chuseok is a major harvest festival and a three-day holiday in Korea celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Like many other harvest festivals, it is held around the Autumn Equinox. As a celebration of the good harvest, Koreans visit their ancestral hometowns and share a feast of Korean traditional food such as songpyeon. **
Last Friday, my school held a dinner welcoming our new teachers after several of us hiked a mountain (which was beautiful)... The dinner was great, morale was high, and true to form, the evening progressed into a night of noraebong.
I left the following day for a five-day trip to Okinawa, Japan to visit my sister and nieces/nephew. Although short, it was a good to see them and I'm so happy that I had the time available to jet over there!
Unfortunately, I left my camera there (at least I didn't lose it), but it's going to cost a pretty penny to have it mailed to me. The question on my mind now is, is it worth it? Should I pay a fraction of the price of a new camera (probably the smarter, financially responsible thing to do) OR do I take the plunge and buy a new camera? Such decisions.
In the meantime, I'm going to set up a Flickr account to share my photos. Soon, I'll post the address.
I discovered a new path close to my apartment leading up to a small mountain and took full advantage of this crazy, beautiful weather by hiking the other day. I've also been playing catch-up on a number of random, relatively unimportant, but lingering organizational tasks lately. Makes me feel good and productive, but now, I think it's time for some fresh air!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Losing it...
I've lost it. Unfortunately, "it" was not my mind, though I suppose I could make that argument after losing my wallet in a flustered taxi transfer. After my inaugural trip to Costco, I loaded my my bags in a cab just to have the driver turn around to tell me he was finished for the day and he couldn't take me home. Really, Mr. Taxi Driver? You couldn't have mentioned that as I clambored into your vehicle... thank you SO much.
So, I hoisted my stuff out and hailed a new taxi. We drove for five minutes before a sinking feeling set in. I frantically started looking for my wallet, and soon I realized, it was gone. My cabbie returned to where he picked me up, at my request, to see if perhaps my wallet was in the road, but it wasn't. So, apparently, I managed to leave valuable business cards of contacts, hundreds of dollars in cash (Costco only accepts cash), my Alien Registration Card (to keep me legal in SoKo), and my debit card in the first taxi.
Thankfully, though, I had my T-Money card in my pocket, so I could at least hop on the subway to get home after I tearfully inquired within Costco if anyone had turned in my wallet.
No worries, though. Two days later, I was back in business with a new debit card and an ARC... The six-hour return trip to Yangju Immigration was the biggest pain in the ass about the whole ordeal (except, of course, for losing my cash). I spent only 20 minutes in the office. After submitting a reissuance application, two passport photos, and a 10,000 won (approx. $10) fee, I was handed a new Alien Card. I could only think how lucky I was to be in country that doesn't have such a phobia about immigrants. (Not that I'm an immigrant here, but I am working, so... you know what I mean.) God help the Mexican in the U.S who loses his/her Green Card and tries to replace it. I hardly think they would have as easy as a time as I did in SoKo. So, for that easy process, I am grateful.
Now. Dear Universe, if you could somehow convince my off-duty cab driver to send me my cash, I would be forever grateful. Thanks.
So, I hoisted my stuff out and hailed a new taxi. We drove for five minutes before a sinking feeling set in. I frantically started looking for my wallet, and soon I realized, it was gone. My cabbie returned to where he picked me up, at my request, to see if perhaps my wallet was in the road, but it wasn't. So, apparently, I managed to leave valuable business cards of contacts, hundreds of dollars in cash (Costco only accepts cash), my Alien Registration Card (to keep me legal in SoKo), and my debit card in the first taxi.
Thankfully, though, I had my T-Money card in my pocket, so I could at least hop on the subway to get home after I tearfully inquired within Costco if anyone had turned in my wallet.
No worries, though. Two days later, I was back in business with a new debit card and an ARC... The six-hour return trip to Yangju Immigration was the biggest pain in the ass about the whole ordeal (except, of course, for losing my cash). I spent only 20 minutes in the office. After submitting a reissuance application, two passport photos, and a 10,000 won (approx. $10) fee, I was handed a new Alien Card. I could only think how lucky I was to be in country that doesn't have such a phobia about immigrants. (Not that I'm an immigrant here, but I am working, so... you know what I mean.) God help the Mexican in the U.S who loses his/her Green Card and tries to replace it. I hardly think they would have as easy as a time as I did in SoKo. So, for that easy process, I am grateful.
Now. Dear Universe, if you could somehow convince my off-duty cab driver to send me my cash, I would be forever grateful. Thanks.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Bali or Bust
Jet-setting to Indonesia
And while I did accomplish those pre-determined to-do tasks, Bali went something more like this...
After an hour-long delay while on the plane, my Garuda Indonesia aircraft departed Seoul. With an empty seat next to me, I nestled into the flight like a baby curling into her mother's cradled arm, sighed, closed my eyes, and settled in for the seven-hour ride. Descending into Bali, I caught my first sunset over the Indian Ocean. I was disappointed not to have been on the beach with a Bintang in hand, but I was happy to at least catch a little bit of the spectacle.
From the air:
From the tarmac:
Typical of southeast Asia, touts were waiting to pounce on any unassuming visitors fresh off the plane. Thankfully, the airport has an "official" taxi service to shuttle you to your final destination, though that certainly doesn't stop other touts and drivers from offering "transport" -- at a much inflated price.
The number one thing I found the most overwhelming on first arriving was understanding conversations around me! Bali is to Australians as the Carribbean and Hawaii are to Americans. English was spoken everywhere; I understood side conversations, and my sense of hearing went on overload. It felt like I'd just emerged from a six-month stay in a silent bubble. You might think I'd be happy to understand what was happening around me. You'd be wrong, though. I'll be honest, it was slightly offensive to my ears. I'm so used to blocking out "background" noise in Korea that I didn't know what to do with shit I could understand!
**Sidenote: The other two things that I found the most foreign were the complete darkness of the rooms (in SoKo, neon lights stream into my studio apartment, making the concept of a "dark" room comical), and the silence... I could hear birds chirps, geckos croak (do geckos croak??), and other animals of nature exist peacefully. It was surreal. It was the loudest silence I've ever experienced.**
After dumping my luggage off at the *beachside* hotel, I sauntered onto the beach and walked the edge of the surf for an undetermined amount of time reveling in the disbelief that I was in BALI! Finally, I made my way back to the hotel, stopping to sit on a lounge chair when a Balinese man approached me, asking for a "light"... After assuring me he was a "good guy" (because, certainly, if a guy says he's one of the good ones, he MUST be, right?), we sat and chatted for an hour. Turns out he works on the beach and does tourist-related stuff to earn his income. So, I hired him to take me around the island the following day on his motorbike.
FYI: If you're on an island, like, say, Bali, going by motorbike is the ONLY way to go. Not only is it super fun, it's the most efficient. When traffic backs up, you (or your driver) weaves in and out the stuck cars :)
I *heart* motorbikes
Safety First
We had a long day; it started beautifully at Ulu Watu, a temple dedicated to the spirits of the sea, and then we headed to Dreamland. Dreamland is this hyped-up "best" beach, that, in my opinion, doesn't live up to its reputation. About two hours in, the clouds unleashed periods of pounding rain, forcing us to pull over a few times, but I absolutely welcomed the break because as much as I love motorbikes, my ass can only take it for about an hour at a time!
Ulu Watu
As we made our way north, I saw the deepest rice paddy in Bali:
Further north, I visited Gunung Batur, an active volcano, and its sidekick lake -Danau Batur. I was pretty disappointed at first as the area was covered in mist and fog when Toto and I first arrived. But after 30 minutes, it dissipated and I was able to take a few shots and actually see the crater.
We raced to the south to reach Tanah Lot by sunset, but we hit a street ceremony along the way, and between that, the traffic, and the rain, we arrived too late.
*No photo of the most photographed site in Bali* :(
Sunday marked a day in which I followed through on an amended bucket list task: I tried surfing. The original goal was to "surf in Costa Rica." I think surfing in Bali is just as sufficient, though. :)
Toto was also my surf instructor, which at the time, I thought would be better than doing a Quiksilver school group lesson. After an hour of failing to stand on the board, however, I started thinking maybe Toto wasn't so great for teaching beginners how to surf. Then again, it could have been the Bintang. No matter, we had much fun alternating between comical surfing attempts, splashing in the water, and lounging in beach chairs.... As the Bali buzz rolled on, Toto offered me "Magic Mushroom" juice, assuring me that he would "take care of me and that everyone on the beach knew him and it was all good."
Source of the juice?
Ahhh, magic mushroom juice -- would it be everything my college hallucinogenic experiences had afforded me? As an avid viewer of "Locked Up Abroad," though, I opted not to find out what this magic Bali juice was all about.
Just when I thought the unexpected was over, Toto declared his undying non-love for me. He went on and on about how he "really, really, really" liked me and how he's usually super shy and never talks this much to women and blah blah blah. He told me of his middle-school love who set a poem he had written for her on fire and how it had broken his heart. "Oh, Suzi... please, I don't want another broken heart. Can we make love?"
Here's the thing: I'm a laugher. I laugh when I'm nervous. I laugh when something's funny. I laugh when it's inappropriate to laugh. I laugh when I'm speechless. I laugh when I don't know how to respond. I laugh when I'm not paying attention. Sometimes, I even laugh when I'm pissed. If you really know me, you tend to know which "laugh" you're getting. But, really, even if you don't know me well, but are in tune with pitch levels and aren't completely out of wack with the world, you can usually gauge what my laugh means.
Toto, unfortunately, did not know me well, nor was he in tune with pitch levels. In this case, I laughed because I was mildly amused, completely taken off-guard, and was stuck for an adequate response. Toto then assured me (he was big in assurances) that we would use a condom. I was so taken back by his directness that I laughed again. Harder. Seriously? That works on girls?
*Surf lesson over!*
That evening, I tried to catch the sunset over Kuta-Legian beach. The thing about Kuta and Legian Beaches is that the minute you step foot onto the sand, you're in someone's "territory..." meaning someone is going to try to rent you an umbrella, sell you a beer, charge you for a "beach" massage, or dump a load of crap on you, like a fake Rolex watch. Lonely Planet said I'd be able to rest in peace after crossing the invisible line in the sand, but hell if I ever found it! Anyway, I rented my lounger and settled in for the sunset...
Two seconds passed and a woman offered me a foot massage. I thought it would be relaxing, so I naively agreed. It took less than a fraction of a milisecond for the other hawkers to descend on me like Asians on white rice. The thing with the Balinese is that they really are as friendly as their stereotyped reputation precedes them, so it's super hard to be a bitch to them. So, I just smiled and repeated "no, thank you" which often resulted in a ten-minute banter of adjusting my tone to mean "get the f- away from me or I swear to god, I'll stab you in the eye." But all with a smile! :)
The next few days found me in Ubud, about an hour north of the majorly touristed Kuta-Legian beach area. It's known as the arts and culture center of the island and I was excited to buy original artsy things. Unfortunately, I didn't find anything I was all that interested in buying, save for a painting of Ganesha, the Hindu god known for assisting in overcoming obstacles, from an artist I met on my trek along the Campuan Ridge.
Awesome, friendly artist whose name escapes me now
Rice Paddy
Working in the Paddy
It was the first day the sun shone in Bali since I'd arrived and I was out the door for a long hike. It was beautiful. The trek took me through rice paddies, artist huts, small villages, and unfortunately, by several wild dogs. SE Asia, I've noticed, is home to heaps of wild dogs. And I hate them. They're big, mean, and absolutely unpredictable. My policy with wild dogs is the same with touts and hawkers: don't make eye contact.
Despite this policy, I managed to lock eyes with a burly, strong, mean-looking wild white dog, claiming the street as his own as I walked through a village. This dog stared me down, daring me to continue. He even called his chocolate buddy to help work the intimidation factor. It worked. As I begrudgingly forced one foot in front of the other, I passed a teenage Balinese boy and an older guy working in a shed. Much to their amusement, I sheepishly explained how deathly afraid I was of these dogs and asked if one of them would kindly walk with me down the road, past the dogs. The younger guy agreed and we struck up a conversation. He asked if I wanted to see his house to which I replied with a resounding "hell yeah!"
The "houses" are protected and sealed from the main roads by concrete walls, so I couldn't see beyond those and I was dying to have a peek into traditional Balinese lives. He took me past the concrete slabs and we entered, for lack of a better term, a compound... three families lived there, in three separate, free-standing "rooms." There was a communal kitchen. His elderly father sat on the stoop drinking coffee, his mom standing in her bra smiled at me... I saw the pigpen in the back, and I was a little unclear if they raised the pigs to eat them, or if they fed the pigs special meals. Or maybe they fed the pigs special meals BEFORE they ate them. It was a communication breakdown.
His Family Temple
At any rate, he was so nice and after we emerged from his home, he walked me a little further and sent me on my way, but not before telling me what hotel he worked out in case I needed anything (and that I could also expect to come across a few more dogs on the way back to town).
One of Bali's many wild dogs
While in Ubud, I stumbled upon young girls learning a traditional Balinese dance - the Legong dance. Later that night, I saw a professional Legong and Barong dance performance.
What the young girls will grow up to look like:
Before departing Ubud, I enlisted a tarot card reader. I've had my cards read once or twice before and always took it with a healthy dose of skepticism. Given the squirvy way my life is evolving, I decided to see what the cards had to say at this juncture. I'd share the results with you, but maybe that's like sharing the wish you make when you blow out birthday candles -- if you tell, it won't come true!
My remaining few days in Bali were spent on a small island just to the southeast of Bali: Nusa Lembongan. Staying in an amazing villa for three days was just what I was seeking in Bali. Granted, I hadn't counted on all the families, but it was no worries. One of those days, I hired another motorbike driver (actually, I tried to rent my own motorbike, hellbent to overcome my MB fears stemming from my Thailand trauma when I somersaulted down a gravel hill on my motorbike and was pinned underneath. However, after five minutes of failing to truly acquire balance on the bike, I realized that I was ok with not conquering this feat. With lessons, I'm sure I'd be a stellar motorbike chick, but until then, I couldn't afford to wreck the bike and possiby suffer from a brain anneruism... so, a dude named Wayan got my business!)
Wayan was awesome-- he took me to the island's Mangrove Forest where I took a "traditional" boat ride, drove over to Nusa Ceningan (a small island connected to Nusa Lembongan by a suspension bridge that is large enough for one motorbike to cross at a time) to see some awesome views, and then finally to Dream Beach - a beach that TRULY lived up to its name. No boats in the "harbor" (for lack of a better term)... no water sports activities... just sand, palm trees, pounding surf with killer currents, and sun. It was heaven.
Dream Beach
Sunset at Jungutbatu Beach
Livin' it up on my balcony
View from villa
My final day in Indonesia found me taking the fast boat (I *heart* fast boats) back to mainland Bali, licking the salt from my lips as the Indian Ocean waves sprayed me. As I mentioned earlier, my to-do list listed reading and writing as my primary tasks; however, there was one more thing I had to try: parasailing. It was "late" in the afternoon (2:30 p.m.) and I had been told it was too late to go. Refusing that reality, I hit up one of the guys I met when I was first in Legian. Good ole' Christopher got it done, but we were given only 20 minutes to reach a location that typically takes 45-60 minutes to get to. We hopped on his motorbike and holy shit, I absolutely feared for my life. Motorbikes are fun when the driver isn't INSANE. Christopher was absolutely insane!
The ride down to parasailing was infinitely more adventurous and exciting than being pulled by a boat while hanging in a harness above the water. Nothing like barreling down an island highway at 100 kilometers weaving in and out of cars and dodging other motorbikes to kickstart a return trip home. As genuinely scared for my life as I was (my helmet was useless; the only reason it didn't fly off was because of the chin-strap), I genuinely had fun on that dare-devil ride.
To restore my heartrate to normal, however, I did indulge in one last Balinese massage before heading to the airport late Sunday night.
And, of course, there was one last sunset...
Because I know most people don't like to read long blog entries, I thought I would offer this alternative to my travelogue:
*Top 10 Reasons Bali Kicks Ass*
1. Sun
2. Water
3. Silence
4. Nature
5. Motorbikes
6. Balinese massages
7. Grilled prawns in garlic butter sauce*
8. Bintang
9. Friendly Balinese
10. Motorbikes!
*Top 10 Reasons Bali Kicks Ass*
1. Sun
2. Water
3. Silence
4. Nature
5. Motorbikes
6. Balinese massages
7. Grilled prawns in garlic butter sauce*
8. Bintang
9. Friendly Balinese
10. Motorbikes!
*Number 7 may only apply to those living in countries where finding these meals is impossible, like, say, South Korea.*
For those of you interested in more details, read on...
For those of you interested in more details, read on...
Ahhh- vacation. Sweet, sweet release. Some people may think it's weird and not a justifiable desire... I hear some people say, "Why do YOU need a vacation? You're living in South Korea!" Well, folks, that's exactly why I need a vacation! Seriously, working here is just like working at home, but with a few additional stresses... you know, given the different culture, language, and food and all.
This is my first vacation since the summer I went to the Florida Keys with my family when I was 11. Some of you may question that statement, countering that I've traveled many places throughout the years...True enough, but "travel" is the keyword... I've never vacationed. Trips have always been more like work in terms of schlepping around with a backpack and hitting the streets trying to find cheap hostels, cheap eats, and cheap entertainment. This trip to Bali was different; I simply schlepped my backpack from the airport to the (first) pre-booked hotel and enjoyed the ride there.
Although there were a few cultural things I wanted to experience in Bali, my primary goal was to re-lax. I simply wanted to vedge on a sun-drenched beach, soaking up all the Jimmy Buffett tunes and sunrays that I could handle. My basic "to-do" list looked like this:
This is my first vacation since the summer I went to the Florida Keys with my family when I was 11. Some of you may question that statement, countering that I've traveled many places throughout the years...True enough, but "travel" is the keyword... I've never vacationed. Trips have always been more like work in terms of schlepping around with a backpack and hitting the streets trying to find cheap hostels, cheap eats, and cheap entertainment. This trip to Bali was different; I simply schlepped my backpack from the airport to the (first) pre-booked hotel and enjoyed the ride there.
Although there were a few cultural things I wanted to experience in Bali, my primary goal was to re-lax. I simply wanted to vedge on a sun-drenched beach, soaking up all the Jimmy Buffett tunes and sunrays that I could handle. My basic "to-do" list looked like this:
- Read
- Reflect
- Write
- Read more
- Write more than that
- Get out of my head
- Repeat
And while I did accomplish those pre-determined to-do tasks, Bali went something more like this...
After an hour-long delay while on the plane, my Garuda Indonesia aircraft departed Seoul. With an empty seat next to me, I nestled into the flight like a baby curling into her mother's cradled arm, sighed, closed my eyes, and settled in for the seven-hour ride. Descending into Bali, I caught my first sunset over the Indian Ocean. I was disappointed not to have been on the beach with a Bintang in hand, but I was happy to at least catch a little bit of the spectacle.
From the air:
From the tarmac:
Typical of southeast Asia, touts were waiting to pounce on any unassuming visitors fresh off the plane. Thankfully, the airport has an "official" taxi service to shuttle you to your final destination, though that certainly doesn't stop other touts and drivers from offering "transport" -- at a much inflated price.
The number one thing I found the most overwhelming on first arriving was understanding conversations around me! Bali is to Australians as the Carribbean and Hawaii are to Americans. English was spoken everywhere; I understood side conversations, and my sense of hearing went on overload. It felt like I'd just emerged from a six-month stay in a silent bubble. You might think I'd be happy to understand what was happening around me. You'd be wrong, though. I'll be honest, it was slightly offensive to my ears. I'm so used to blocking out "background" noise in Korea that I didn't know what to do with shit I could understand!
**Sidenote: The other two things that I found the most foreign were the complete darkness of the rooms (in SoKo, neon lights stream into my studio apartment, making the concept of a "dark" room comical), and the silence... I could hear birds chirps, geckos croak (do geckos croak??), and other animals of nature exist peacefully. It was surreal. It was the loudest silence I've ever experienced.**
After dumping my luggage off at the *beachside* hotel, I sauntered onto the beach and walked the edge of the surf for an undetermined amount of time reveling in the disbelief that I was in BALI! Finally, I made my way back to the hotel, stopping to sit on a lounge chair when a Balinese man approached me, asking for a "light"... After assuring me he was a "good guy" (because, certainly, if a guy says he's one of the good ones, he MUST be, right?), we sat and chatted for an hour. Turns out he works on the beach and does tourist-related stuff to earn his income. So, I hired him to take me around the island the following day on his motorbike.
FYI: If you're on an island, like, say, Bali, going by motorbike is the ONLY way to go. Not only is it super fun, it's the most efficient. When traffic backs up, you (or your driver) weaves in and out the stuck cars :)
I *heart* motorbikes
Safety First
We had a long day; it started beautifully at Ulu Watu, a temple dedicated to the spirits of the sea, and then we headed to Dreamland. Dreamland is this hyped-up "best" beach, that, in my opinion, doesn't live up to its reputation. About two hours in, the clouds unleashed periods of pounding rain, forcing us to pull over a few times, but I absolutely welcomed the break because as much as I love motorbikes, my ass can only take it for about an hour at a time!
Ulu Watu
As we made our way north, I saw the deepest rice paddy in Bali:
Further north, I visited Gunung Batur, an active volcano, and its sidekick lake -Danau Batur. I was pretty disappointed at first as the area was covered in mist and fog when Toto and I first arrived. But after 30 minutes, it dissipated and I was able to take a few shots and actually see the crater.
We raced to the south to reach Tanah Lot by sunset, but we hit a street ceremony along the way, and between that, the traffic, and the rain, we arrived too late.
*No photo of the most photographed site in Bali* :(
Sunday marked a day in which I followed through on an amended bucket list task: I tried surfing. The original goal was to "surf in Costa Rica." I think surfing in Bali is just as sufficient, though. :)
Toto was also my surf instructor, which at the time, I thought would be better than doing a Quiksilver school group lesson. After an hour of failing to stand on the board, however, I started thinking maybe Toto wasn't so great for teaching beginners how to surf. Then again, it could have been the Bintang. No matter, we had much fun alternating between comical surfing attempts, splashing in the water, and lounging in beach chairs.... As the Bali buzz rolled on, Toto offered me "Magic Mushroom" juice, assuring me that he would "take care of me and that everyone on the beach knew him and it was all good."
Source of the juice?
Ahhh, magic mushroom juice -- would it be everything my college hallucinogenic experiences had afforded me? As an avid viewer of "Locked Up Abroad," though, I opted not to find out what this magic Bali juice was all about.
Just when I thought the unexpected was over, Toto declared his undying non-love for me. He went on and on about how he "really, really, really" liked me and how he's usually super shy and never talks this much to women and blah blah blah. He told me of his middle-school love who set a poem he had written for her on fire and how it had broken his heart. "Oh, Suzi... please, I don't want another broken heart. Can we make love?"
Here's the thing: I'm a laugher. I laugh when I'm nervous. I laugh when something's funny. I laugh when it's inappropriate to laugh. I laugh when I'm speechless. I laugh when I don't know how to respond. I laugh when I'm not paying attention. Sometimes, I even laugh when I'm pissed. If you really know me, you tend to know which "laugh" you're getting. But, really, even if you don't know me well, but are in tune with pitch levels and aren't completely out of wack with the world, you can usually gauge what my laugh means.
Toto, unfortunately, did not know me well, nor was he in tune with pitch levels. In this case, I laughed because I was mildly amused, completely taken off-guard, and was stuck for an adequate response. Toto then assured me (he was big in assurances) that we would use a condom. I was so taken back by his directness that I laughed again. Harder. Seriously? That works on girls?
*Surf lesson over!*
That evening, I tried to catch the sunset over Kuta-Legian beach. The thing about Kuta and Legian Beaches is that the minute you step foot onto the sand, you're in someone's "territory..." meaning someone is going to try to rent you an umbrella, sell you a beer, charge you for a "beach" massage, or dump a load of crap on you, like a fake Rolex watch. Lonely Planet said I'd be able to rest in peace after crossing the invisible line in the sand, but hell if I ever found it! Anyway, I rented my lounger and settled in for the sunset...
Two seconds passed and a woman offered me a foot massage. I thought it would be relaxing, so I naively agreed. It took less than a fraction of a milisecond for the other hawkers to descend on me like Asians on white rice. The thing with the Balinese is that they really are as friendly as their stereotyped reputation precedes them, so it's super hard to be a bitch to them. So, I just smiled and repeated "no, thank you" which often resulted in a ten-minute banter of adjusting my tone to mean "get the f- away from me or I swear to god, I'll stab you in the eye." But all with a smile! :)
The next few days found me in Ubud, about an hour north of the majorly touristed Kuta-Legian beach area. It's known as the arts and culture center of the island and I was excited to buy original artsy things. Unfortunately, I didn't find anything I was all that interested in buying, save for a painting of Ganesha, the Hindu god known for assisting in overcoming obstacles, from an artist I met on my trek along the Campuan Ridge.
Awesome, friendly artist whose name escapes me now
Rice Paddy
Working in the Paddy
It was the first day the sun shone in Bali since I'd arrived and I was out the door for a long hike. It was beautiful. The trek took me through rice paddies, artist huts, small villages, and unfortunately, by several wild dogs. SE Asia, I've noticed, is home to heaps of wild dogs. And I hate them. They're big, mean, and absolutely unpredictable. My policy with wild dogs is the same with touts and hawkers: don't make eye contact.
Despite this policy, I managed to lock eyes with a burly, strong, mean-looking wild white dog, claiming the street as his own as I walked through a village. This dog stared me down, daring me to continue. He even called his chocolate buddy to help work the intimidation factor. It worked. As I begrudgingly forced one foot in front of the other, I passed a teenage Balinese boy and an older guy working in a shed. Much to their amusement, I sheepishly explained how deathly afraid I was of these dogs and asked if one of them would kindly walk with me down the road, past the dogs. The younger guy agreed and we struck up a conversation. He asked if I wanted to see his house to which I replied with a resounding "hell yeah!"
The "houses" are protected and sealed from the main roads by concrete walls, so I couldn't see beyond those and I was dying to have a peek into traditional Balinese lives. He took me past the concrete slabs and we entered, for lack of a better term, a compound... three families lived there, in three separate, free-standing "rooms." There was a communal kitchen. His elderly father sat on the stoop drinking coffee, his mom standing in her bra smiled at me... I saw the pigpen in the back, and I was a little unclear if they raised the pigs to eat them, or if they fed the pigs special meals. Or maybe they fed the pigs special meals BEFORE they ate them. It was a communication breakdown.
His Family Temple
At any rate, he was so nice and after we emerged from his home, he walked me a little further and sent me on my way, but not before telling me what hotel he worked out in case I needed anything (and that I could also expect to come across a few more dogs on the way back to town).
One of Bali's many wild dogs
While in Ubud, I stumbled upon young girls learning a traditional Balinese dance - the Legong dance. Later that night, I saw a professional Legong and Barong dance performance.
What the young girls will grow up to look like:
Before departing Ubud, I enlisted a tarot card reader. I've had my cards read once or twice before and always took it with a healthy dose of skepticism. Given the squirvy way my life is evolving, I decided to see what the cards had to say at this juncture. I'd share the results with you, but maybe that's like sharing the wish you make when you blow out birthday candles -- if you tell, it won't come true!
My remaining few days in Bali were spent on a small island just to the southeast of Bali: Nusa Lembongan. Staying in an amazing villa for three days was just what I was seeking in Bali. Granted, I hadn't counted on all the families, but it was no worries. One of those days, I hired another motorbike driver (actually, I tried to rent my own motorbike, hellbent to overcome my MB fears stemming from my Thailand trauma when I somersaulted down a gravel hill on my motorbike and was pinned underneath. However, after five minutes of failing to truly acquire balance on the bike, I realized that I was ok with not conquering this feat. With lessons, I'm sure I'd be a stellar motorbike chick, but until then, I couldn't afford to wreck the bike and possiby suffer from a brain anneruism... so, a dude named Wayan got my business!)
Wayan was awesome-- he took me to the island's Mangrove Forest where I took a "traditional" boat ride, drove over to Nusa Ceningan (a small island connected to Nusa Lembongan by a suspension bridge that is large enough for one motorbike to cross at a time) to see some awesome views, and then finally to Dream Beach - a beach that TRULY lived up to its name. No boats in the "harbor" (for lack of a better term)... no water sports activities... just sand, palm trees, pounding surf with killer currents, and sun. It was heaven.
Dream Beach
Sunset at Jungutbatu Beach
Livin' it up on my balcony
View from villa
My final day in Indonesia found me taking the fast boat (I *heart* fast boats) back to mainland Bali, licking the salt from my lips as the Indian Ocean waves sprayed me. As I mentioned earlier, my to-do list listed reading and writing as my primary tasks; however, there was one more thing I had to try: parasailing. It was "late" in the afternoon (2:30 p.m.) and I had been told it was too late to go. Refusing that reality, I hit up one of the guys I met when I was first in Legian. Good ole' Christopher got it done, but we were given only 20 minutes to reach a location that typically takes 45-60 minutes to get to. We hopped on his motorbike and holy shit, I absolutely feared for my life. Motorbikes are fun when the driver isn't INSANE. Christopher was absolutely insane!
The ride down to parasailing was infinitely more adventurous and exciting than being pulled by a boat while hanging in a harness above the water. Nothing like barreling down an island highway at 100 kilometers weaving in and out of cars and dodging other motorbikes to kickstart a return trip home. As genuinely scared for my life as I was (my helmet was useless; the only reason it didn't fly off was because of the chin-strap), I genuinely had fun on that dare-devil ride.
To restore my heartrate to normal, however, I did indulge in one last Balinese massage before heading to the airport late Sunday night.
And, of course, there was one last sunset...
Friday, July 2, 2010
Part I: Turning 31...a brief reflection
Birthdays have usually been a time of contemplation and reflection for me. I've never been a huge "birthday" celebrator, but the year of age 30 was one HELLUVA year and I fully feel justified in celebrating the next year. On the one hand, admittingly, it's slightly scary to be fully entrenched in my 30s (although, according to subject matter experts, you're only fully entrenched once you reach age 35). On the other hand, age really is just a number... unless you're in Korea. Wait. I'm in Korea. SHIT! According to them, I'm an old freakin' maid destined to the bowels of society with absolutely no chance at love -- ever. Hmmmm. Bummer.
Although the Western world is slightly more forgiving for aging without having yet secured the time-honored tradition of a life-long partner by age 31, I am still surrounded by and reminded of societal "expectations," if you will. So many friends are engaged or already married. A few are sporting children or are have them in utero. WTF! What happened to slurping Snoopy Sno-Cones on the corner of Pinehurst St. condeming the conventional life that was destined to be forced upon us? (Ok, fine... maybe I was the only one bitching about convention, but I certainly wasn't alone in slurping Snoopies!)
This birthday is especially contemplative considering my current residence. One year ago, coming to Korea wasn't even on the immediate radar. Looking back, it seems that the *slight* chaos that consumed my life was creating the perfect situation for me to finally follow through with my plans to teach abroad. (For those of you in the know, I'm sure "*slight* chaos" is amusing to you.. as it is to me... !) Regardless, you never know what will materialize in life. What appears as detrimental one second manifests into the best freakin' thing you could ever imagine.
There was a time when I sought answers for impossible questions... not "Why am I here" or "What's the meaning of life", but rather, I wanted concrete explanations for certain events that have occurred. And that's just not the way life is. Life is messy. It's complicated. And really, I don't need to have all the "answers" ... Where I've been is where I'm coming from, but I'm certainly not chained to the past. As a great philosopher whose name escapes me at the moment said, "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
And I know, the life I'm creating for myself has long since been waiting for me. I might have mixed feelings about turning 31, but it is absolutely never too late (at any age) to live the life you've dreamt of. Maybe I don't have a pension plan right now; maybe my student loan debt seems to be on par with the national deficit; but bump it, I'm living life on life's terms and creating a world in which I'm happy to inhabit.
Although the Western world is slightly more forgiving for aging without having yet secured the time-honored tradition of a life-long partner by age 31, I am still surrounded by and reminded of societal "expectations," if you will. So many friends are engaged or already married. A few are sporting children or are have them in utero. WTF! What happened to slurping Snoopy Sno-Cones on the corner of Pinehurst St. condeming the conventional life that was destined to be forced upon us? (Ok, fine... maybe I was the only one bitching about convention, but I certainly wasn't alone in slurping Snoopies!)
This birthday is especially contemplative considering my current residence. One year ago, coming to Korea wasn't even on the immediate radar. Looking back, it seems that the *slight* chaos that consumed my life was creating the perfect situation for me to finally follow through with my plans to teach abroad. (For those of you in the know, I'm sure "*slight* chaos" is amusing to you.. as it is to me... !) Regardless, you never know what will materialize in life. What appears as detrimental one second manifests into the best freakin' thing you could ever imagine.
There was a time when I sought answers for impossible questions... not "Why am I here" or "What's the meaning of life", but rather, I wanted concrete explanations for certain events that have occurred. And that's just not the way life is. Life is messy. It's complicated. And really, I don't need to have all the "answers" ... Where I've been is where I'm coming from, but I'm certainly not chained to the past. As a great philosopher whose name escapes me at the moment said, "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
And I know, the life I'm creating for myself has long since been waiting for me. I might have mixed feelings about turning 31, but it is absolutely never too late (at any age) to live the life you've dreamt of. Maybe I don't have a pension plan right now; maybe my student loan debt seems to be on par with the national deficit; but bump it, I'm living life on life's terms and creating a world in which I'm happy to inhabit.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Bound for Okinawa, Japan
*Pics to be included soon*
Five days was hardly enough, but it was so great to see my sister and family after nearly two
years! Currently based in Okinawa, Katie is closer to Taiwan than Japan, and the culture of Okinawa is, by most locals' accounts, decidedly Okinawan and not Japanese. With two brilliantly beautiful days when I arrived, Katie, the kids, and I walked to the Okinawa Zoo on Day 1-- and although we didn't see any of the animals, we did catch an Okinawan dance performance that was awesome.
Not necessarily feeling awkward, Katie was nonetheless accutely aware that she and I were the only Westerners in the park (well, except for two men, who were individually with Japanese women, which prompted Katie and I to discuss the intricacies of "inner-culture" marriage/relationships... since I haven't cleared this blog entry with her, I will refrain from sharing her viewpoint... and mine, too... stay tuned for Chapter 5 of my book. I'm conducting more research while in SoKo about the fascination men have for Asians.)
Because Katie and Chris live off-base (FYI: they are not "military;" rather, Chris is civil service with the Navy), Katie experiences a more authentic experience amongst Okinawans. Which isn't saying it's all that great. Okinawans are especially hostile (not necessarily phyically harmful, though) to Americans right now. For one thing, the American military has a base for each of its branches -- army, navy, air force, marines, etc -- on the island. And as is bound to happen anywhere, there have been unfortunate incidents between soldiers and Oki civilians (the most recent is one in which a soldier was drunk driving and killed an Okinawan). But the main thing, is that Okinawans want one particular base off the island. And a Japanese politician campaigned on the promise that he would make it happen.
So, when I was in Okinawa, tensions were high because talks of moving the base were to be held in the coming weeks. I say this to say that the stares Katie and I received from the Japanese are much more severe than the harmless, non-hostile curious stares I receive from Koreans.
*Sidenote: Since then (May 5-9), the politician renegged on his campaign promise, causing much upheaval amongst Okinawans. Although he said it was because of North Korea sank a South Korean ship (see other entry!), who knows if that's the truth, or a simple convenient scape goat?
My nephew, who is almost one year old, is bar none the cutest damn kid around. Of course, don't all aunts say the same thing of their nephews? But, because Katie gave birth to Brennan in Japan, I hadn't met him yet, and it was amazing.
Day 2 was a trip to Hamahiga, a not-so-well known small beach about an hour from Oki City. I had already known from my descent into Okinawa how much I missed the water, but being on the beach cemented my heartache. I am, first and foremost, a water girl. With seven generations of Floridians in my blood, I suppose it's genetic, but after settling in Orlando (yes, I know it was only an hour or so to the nearest beach) for so long, and now Korea, I know in my heart: I'm meant to be on, by, or in water!
Katie's husband had a 24-hour "layover" at home (his job takes him to far-reaching places on the globe for undetermined amounts of time) on Saturday, so I offered to babysit the kids so they could have a "Date Night." So, after a day of watching one of my nieces play soccer and then shopping for "American" products on the base to bring back with me to Korea (really, I just needed a new supply of Crystal Light lemonade!), I settled in for a night with the kids. After making dinner, changing Brennan, doing arts and crafts, and putting the kids to bed, I felt super domestic -- something I don't ever feel. Something I'm ok with not feeling right now :) I quietly thanked the universe for my current position in life.
Sunday morning, we made the trek to the airport. It was sad to leave Katie and the kids, but we'd had an awesome time.
Thanks again, Korea, for celebrating Children's Day, which gave me the opportunity to chill with the fam for a few days!
Five days was hardly enough, but it was so great to see my sister and family after nearly two
years! Currently based in Okinawa, Katie is closer to Taiwan than Japan, and the culture of Okinawa is, by most locals' accounts, decidedly Okinawan and not Japanese. With two brilliantly beautiful days when I arrived, Katie, the kids, and I walked to the Okinawa Zoo on Day 1-- and although we didn't see any of the animals, we did catch an Okinawan dance performance that was awesome.
Not necessarily feeling awkward, Katie was nonetheless accutely aware that she and I were the only Westerners in the park (well, except for two men, who were individually with Japanese women, which prompted Katie and I to discuss the intricacies of "inner-culture" marriage/relationships... since I haven't cleared this blog entry with her, I will refrain from sharing her viewpoint... and mine, too... stay tuned for Chapter 5 of my book. I'm conducting more research while in SoKo about the fascination men have for Asians.)
Because Katie and Chris live off-base (FYI: they are not "military;" rather, Chris is civil service with the Navy), Katie experiences a more authentic experience amongst Okinawans. Which isn't saying it's all that great. Okinawans are especially hostile (not necessarily phyically harmful, though) to Americans right now. For one thing, the American military has a base for each of its branches -- army, navy, air force, marines, etc -- on the island. And as is bound to happen anywhere, there have been unfortunate incidents between soldiers and Oki civilians (the most recent is one in which a soldier was drunk driving and killed an Okinawan). But the main thing, is that Okinawans want one particular base off the island. And a Japanese politician campaigned on the promise that he would make it happen.
So, when I was in Okinawa, tensions were high because talks of moving the base were to be held in the coming weeks. I say this to say that the stares Katie and I received from the Japanese are much more severe than the harmless, non-hostile curious stares I receive from Koreans.
*Sidenote: Since then (May 5-9), the politician renegged on his campaign promise, causing much upheaval amongst Okinawans. Although he said it was because of North Korea sank a South Korean ship (see other entry!), who knows if that's the truth, or a simple convenient scape goat?
My nephew, who is almost one year old, is bar none the cutest damn kid around. Of course, don't all aunts say the same thing of their nephews? But, because Katie gave birth to Brennan in Japan, I hadn't met him yet, and it was amazing.
Day 2 was a trip to Hamahiga, a not-so-well known small beach about an hour from Oki City. I had already known from my descent into Okinawa how much I missed the water, but being on the beach cemented my heartache. I am, first and foremost, a water girl. With seven generations of Floridians in my blood, I suppose it's genetic, but after settling in Orlando (yes, I know it was only an hour or so to the nearest beach) for so long, and now Korea, I know in my heart: I'm meant to be on, by, or in water!
Katie's husband had a 24-hour "layover" at home (his job takes him to far-reaching places on the globe for undetermined amounts of time) on Saturday, so I offered to babysit the kids so they could have a "Date Night." So, after a day of watching one of my nieces play soccer and then shopping for "American" products on the base to bring back with me to Korea (really, I just needed a new supply of Crystal Light lemonade!), I settled in for a night with the kids. After making dinner, changing Brennan, doing arts and crafts, and putting the kids to bed, I felt super domestic -- something I don't ever feel. Something I'm ok with not feeling right now :) I quietly thanked the universe for my current position in life.
Sunday morning, we made the trek to the airport. It was sad to leave Katie and the kids, but we'd had an awesome time.
Thanks again, Korea, for celebrating Children's Day, which gave me the opportunity to chill with the fam for a few days!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Hiking, bookstores, and baseball games
Hiking is a big sport in Korea. Everything I'd read before coming to SoKo indicated that Koreans were outdoors-crazed and loved to deck themselves out in hiking gear and hit the mountains. When I heard that I would be hiking a moutain with my fellow teachers, both Western and Korean, I though, what better time to invest in hiking sticks! HAHAHA. I was wrong!
I brought my cool new sticks to school the following Monday and just happened to show them to a Korean teacher, whose reaction I can hardly capture in words. Her gut-wrenching belly laugh, I had never heard, but I was so happy I could elicit such happiness and joy from my innocent purchase. J told me that only ajummas (really old women) use hiking sticks and that I'd be laughed right off the mountain. Of course, because I'm in Korea, no one would actually laugh to my face, but laugh they would... and they would do it heartily.
Needless to say, I didn't bring the sticks on the mountain hike (which was no worries, because the "mountain" was more of a kiddie-mountain with no need to stablize my footing. Even though we did get rained on when we had almost reached the top!
Baseball vs. Bookstores: A Fair Fight
I'm not a huge baseball fan. Actually, I'm not a huge sports fan. Sometimes, I wish I was, but I think there's something in my blood preventing me from indulging in the latest sports news. I am, however, very much interested in meeting new people. So, when I was invited to attend a Korean baseball game, I faced a dilemma: socialize and be bored at the game, or do something on my own? *Shocker*- I did something on my own. Liz said, "What other time in your life can you say you've been to a baseball game in Korea???" Fair enough. My response? "What other time in my life could I say how BORED I was at a baseball game in Korea?"
And, so on that beautiful Saturday afternoon, I bypassed Olympic Park and headed to Gangnam, an affluent area of Seoul, to check out Kyobo Bookstore. Man, did I make the right decision. Bookstores are my sanctuaries, my temples, my churches, my places of worship. They rank even higher than office supply stores (given my fierce opposition to "real" 9-5 corporate jobs, perhaps it's shocking that office supplies give me unmeasurable pleasure, but it's true. I could spend hundreds of dollars on paper clips, binders, notebooks, legal pads, markers, pens, retractable pencils... the works. OH! Just writing about it makes me giddy.)... but, as usual, I digress.
Walking into Korea's largest chain bookstore (which, incidently, puts Borders and Barnes and Noble to shame), I instinctively let out a breath of air and released weeks of unrealized stress. Turns out I was in desperate need of some quality alone time, wandering racks of stories, browsing a surprisingly large section of English books, and sifting through countless options of book escapism. It was heavenly.
True to form, I walked out with five books: One on learning Korean (for the love of god, I need to learn it!!!), one on Korean culture -- cartoon style, a pocket atlas (SWEET), a collection of stories by David Sedaris, and Paulo Coelho's "The Witch of Portobello," which is turning out to be an incredible book. While I'm not a big fan of fiction, Coehlo is a fantastic author. Admittingly, I've only read two of his other books, but I devoured them. "The Witch of Portobello" struck me for another reason, though... One of its catch lines is:
"How do we find the courage to always be true to ourselves -- even if we are unsure of who we are?"
Given some recent events that shall only be published in my Great American Nonfiction Novel, this line rang so true to me. I could write a whole other blog entry on this theme. Although I'm not entirely sure why I hold the view that I should know who I am, I'm even more unsure as to why I think it's unwise to share this sentiment with others. Upon reflection, though, why is that so bad? Yeah, I don't know entirely who I am... Does anyone? Are we not constantly evolving, adapting to new beliefs or thoughts? Maybe, maybe not. Personally, I believe if you're not growing or evolving, you're stuck. Stagnant. Living an unfilling life. For me, I hope that I always continue to grow and evolve... and that means sometimes being unsure of who I am. It can be uncomfortable, not knowing who I am. Labels help us identify with certain groups. But, as I recently read somewhere, labels are for food, not people! Insightful, I know. Sometimes I amaze myself at how freakin' reflective I can be.
Finding someone who claims to know exactly who they are is like someone who claims they have found the Truth. You should always doubt that claim; it's an impossible feat.
This whole "Who am I" business is tiresome. I'm thrust back to Mrs. West's eighth grade English class when I wrote a poem titled, "Who am I". I was the wind. It was a pretty heady poem for a 13-yr-old. And god knows, it was so indicative of my adolescence -- I mean, classbook Erikson in keeping with the stages of development...
Anyway, I don't think I'm the wind anymore, though my travels sometimes make me feel like it (but in this case, being the wind is good!) Whatever. If I had to create a business card, and I mean, my ideal business card, it would probably just have my name: Suzi Ball.
I am so many things. I just don't want to be boxed in.
And, so, I am reminded of Cat Stevens:
"Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are."
So, that's it. I'm free. Because that's who and what I want to be.
I brought my cool new sticks to school the following Monday and just happened to show them to a Korean teacher, whose reaction I can hardly capture in words. Her gut-wrenching belly laugh, I had never heard, but I was so happy I could elicit such happiness and joy from my innocent purchase. J told me that only ajummas (really old women) use hiking sticks and that I'd be laughed right off the mountain. Of course, because I'm in Korea, no one would actually laugh to my face, but laugh they would... and they would do it heartily.
Needless to say, I didn't bring the sticks on the mountain hike (which was no worries, because the "mountain" was more of a kiddie-mountain with no need to stablize my footing. Even though we did get rained on when we had almost reached the top!
Baseball vs. Bookstores: A Fair Fight
I'm not a huge baseball fan. Actually, I'm not a huge sports fan. Sometimes, I wish I was, but I think there's something in my blood preventing me from indulging in the latest sports news. I am, however, very much interested in meeting new people. So, when I was invited to attend a Korean baseball game, I faced a dilemma: socialize and be bored at the game, or do something on my own? *Shocker*- I did something on my own. Liz said, "What other time in your life can you say you've been to a baseball game in Korea???" Fair enough. My response? "What other time in my life could I say how BORED I was at a baseball game in Korea?"
And, so on that beautiful Saturday afternoon, I bypassed Olympic Park and headed to Gangnam, an affluent area of Seoul, to check out Kyobo Bookstore. Man, did I make the right decision. Bookstores are my sanctuaries, my temples, my churches, my places of worship. They rank even higher than office supply stores (given my fierce opposition to "real" 9-5 corporate jobs, perhaps it's shocking that office supplies give me unmeasurable pleasure, but it's true. I could spend hundreds of dollars on paper clips, binders, notebooks, legal pads, markers, pens, retractable pencils... the works. OH! Just writing about it makes me giddy.)... but, as usual, I digress.
Walking into Korea's largest chain bookstore (which, incidently, puts Borders and Barnes and Noble to shame), I instinctively let out a breath of air and released weeks of unrealized stress. Turns out I was in desperate need of some quality alone time, wandering racks of stories, browsing a surprisingly large section of English books, and sifting through countless options of book escapism. It was heavenly.
True to form, I walked out with five books: One on learning Korean (for the love of god, I need to learn it!!!), one on Korean culture -- cartoon style, a pocket atlas (SWEET), a collection of stories by David Sedaris, and Paulo Coelho's "The Witch of Portobello," which is turning out to be an incredible book. While I'm not a big fan of fiction, Coehlo is a fantastic author. Admittingly, I've only read two of his other books, but I devoured them. "The Witch of Portobello" struck me for another reason, though... One of its catch lines is:
"How do we find the courage to always be true to ourselves -- even if we are unsure of who we are?"
Given some recent events that shall only be published in my Great American Nonfiction Novel, this line rang so true to me. I could write a whole other blog entry on this theme. Although I'm not entirely sure why I hold the view that I should know who I am, I'm even more unsure as to why I think it's unwise to share this sentiment with others. Upon reflection, though, why is that so bad? Yeah, I don't know entirely who I am... Does anyone? Are we not constantly evolving, adapting to new beliefs or thoughts? Maybe, maybe not. Personally, I believe if you're not growing or evolving, you're stuck. Stagnant. Living an unfilling life. For me, I hope that I always continue to grow and evolve... and that means sometimes being unsure of who I am. It can be uncomfortable, not knowing who I am. Labels help us identify with certain groups. But, as I recently read somewhere, labels are for food, not people! Insightful, I know. Sometimes I amaze myself at how freakin' reflective I can be.
Finding someone who claims to know exactly who they are is like someone who claims they have found the Truth. You should always doubt that claim; it's an impossible feat.
This whole "Who am I" business is tiresome. I'm thrust back to Mrs. West's eighth grade English class when I wrote a poem titled, "Who am I". I was the wind. It was a pretty heady poem for a 13-yr-old. And god knows, it was so indicative of my adolescence -- I mean, classbook Erikson in keeping with the stages of development...
Anyway, I don't think I'm the wind anymore, though my travels sometimes make me feel like it (but in this case, being the wind is good!) Whatever. If I had to create a business card, and I mean, my ideal business card, it would probably just have my name: Suzi Ball.
I am so many things. I just don't want to be boxed in.
And, so, I am reminded of Cat Stevens:
"Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are."
So, that's it. I'm free. Because that's who and what I want to be.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I *heart* being groped... by Korean men
So here's an unexpected twist to my relatively mellow day: I was groped by my Korean landlord. A few times. I returned home after work and dinner with friends, dropped my bag off, and immediately headed back out into the seemingly neverending freezing rain to grab a bottle of water from GS25 (Gs 25 = 7-Eleven).
Halfway across the road, a man approached me. He looked vaguely familiar and I remembered, "this is the dude that "installed" my fire extinguisher a month ago." Talking in Korean, he graciously offered me a bite of his fried and battered corn dog (oh so appealing) to which I politely declined. I got the impression he wanted to show me something in my apartment, so that's where we headed. As he talked, he gestured. Frequently, his finger or hand would brush my breast. The first time it happened, I didn't pay any attention. It happens to everyone. The second time, I thought, "hmm, that's uncomfortable." And the third time, I almost decked him. Thereafter, any time he raised his hand to gesture, I danced around the room to avoid any contact. It didn't always work.
Fast forward: we're inside my apartment. He talks to me as though I understand, which truly, I think is great. He's so patient, and with an almost childlike naivety, I think expected me to just "get it." He's really rather nice. But with what could only be a blank stare, confused smile, and nervous laughter, I finally said, "I'm sorry. I have no clue what you're saying. You have no idea what I'm saying. Let me call a friend." (Flashback to using lifelines on the horrid TV show with Regis, I think... what the hell was it called? Something about being a millionaire?) Anyway, I called a Korean English teacher and she got on the phone with the guy.
Translation: Suzi, uhhh, I think he's really intoxicated. You should be careful because, you know what I mean, you're a girl. But anyway, he owns the building and just wants to say he's happy to be renting to you and that other residents say you're friendly (I do say "annyeonghaseyo" whenever I meet one). He also wants to make sure you're taking care of the place, blah blah blah. Oh, and don't touch the sprinkler in the kitchen that will put out a fire should one occur."
And that was it. Oh, wait... not so much. After hanging up, the landlord STILL stuck around...even after I opened my front door and basically said, get the hell out, dude. We're done here. Politely, of course. No, no. There was much more to be said and many more inappropriate hugs to hoist upon me. I think, though I can't be sure, he told me not to dry my clothes where I currently hang them. Somehow, he hugged me again, but this time, he pressed himself up against me and wouldn't let go (previously, he pushed up against me right as I dodged the clasping of his arms). Crafty little wrangler I am, I withered myself from his grasp and headed to the front door. STILL, he tried to stay. More talking. I think he professed his undying love for me. And then told me not to tell anyone. Charades really is an international language.
Fast forward: Second phone call to Korean English teacher friend. "Ahhh, friend, this guy is still here... can you find out what he's saying.?"
Translation: "He says you are very pretty and nice. He's very attracted to you. Do you know what I mean?" Uhhh, check. Got it. The manhandled hug cemented it for me, actually.
Meanwhile, my landlord finally left. Let me be clear, yes, the guy was drunk. Sure, he groped me. But he was so nice! I understand that saying how nice he is makes me sound like a total jackass, waiting to be a victim kind-of-girl, but that's not it at all... yes, I was creeped out, but I was never necessarily worried. A little creeped out, yeah. A little dirty? Yep. Even slightly violated. Fair enough. Had this EXACT same situation happened in the States, I would have called the cops instead of an intrepretor! Here, ahh, no worries. It's just a little soju. We all do insanely stupid shit when we drink soju. I'm sure when this guy is sober, all will be well with the world. And more importantly, he won't press his body against mine and touch my boobs. Because Buddha help him if he does... :)
Halfway across the road, a man approached me. He looked vaguely familiar and I remembered, "this is the dude that "installed" my fire extinguisher a month ago." Talking in Korean, he graciously offered me a bite of his fried and battered corn dog (oh so appealing) to which I politely declined. I got the impression he wanted to show me something in my apartment, so that's where we headed. As he talked, he gestured. Frequently, his finger or hand would brush my breast. The first time it happened, I didn't pay any attention. It happens to everyone. The second time, I thought, "hmm, that's uncomfortable." And the third time, I almost decked him. Thereafter, any time he raised his hand to gesture, I danced around the room to avoid any contact. It didn't always work.
Fast forward: we're inside my apartment. He talks to me as though I understand, which truly, I think is great. He's so patient, and with an almost childlike naivety, I think expected me to just "get it." He's really rather nice. But with what could only be a blank stare, confused smile, and nervous laughter, I finally said, "I'm sorry. I have no clue what you're saying. You have no idea what I'm saying. Let me call a friend." (Flashback to using lifelines on the horrid TV show with Regis, I think... what the hell was it called? Something about being a millionaire?) Anyway, I called a Korean English teacher and she got on the phone with the guy.
Translation: Suzi, uhhh, I think he's really intoxicated. You should be careful because, you know what I mean, you're a girl. But anyway, he owns the building and just wants to say he's happy to be renting to you and that other residents say you're friendly (I do say "annyeonghaseyo" whenever I meet one). He also wants to make sure you're taking care of the place, blah blah blah. Oh, and don't touch the sprinkler in the kitchen that will put out a fire should one occur."
And that was it. Oh, wait... not so much. After hanging up, the landlord STILL stuck around...even after I opened my front door and basically said, get the hell out, dude. We're done here. Politely, of course. No, no. There was much more to be said and many more inappropriate hugs to hoist upon me. I think, though I can't be sure, he told me not to dry my clothes where I currently hang them. Somehow, he hugged me again, but this time, he pressed himself up against me and wouldn't let go (previously, he pushed up against me right as I dodged the clasping of his arms). Crafty little wrangler I am, I withered myself from his grasp and headed to the front door. STILL, he tried to stay. More talking. I think he professed his undying love for me. And then told me not to tell anyone. Charades really is an international language.
Fast forward: Second phone call to Korean English teacher friend. "Ahhh, friend, this guy is still here... can you find out what he's saying.?"
Translation: "He says you are very pretty and nice. He's very attracted to you. Do you know what I mean?" Uhhh, check. Got it. The manhandled hug cemented it for me, actually.
Meanwhile, my landlord finally left. Let me be clear, yes, the guy was drunk. Sure, he groped me. But he was so nice! I understand that saying how nice he is makes me sound like a total jackass, waiting to be a victim kind-of-girl, but that's not it at all... yes, I was creeped out, but I was never necessarily worried. A little creeped out, yeah. A little dirty? Yep. Even slightly violated. Fair enough. Had this EXACT same situation happened in the States, I would have called the cops instead of an intrepretor! Here, ahh, no worries. It's just a little soju. We all do insanely stupid shit when we drink soju. I'm sure when this guy is sober, all will be well with the world. And more importantly, he won't press his body against mine and touch my boobs. Because Buddha help him if he does... :)
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Kimchi: Korea in your Kitchen
A funny ass skit from Steve Carell about kimchi... Kimchi is seriously served up at every Korean meal. After watching this, though, you may not know why!
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Korea in Your Kitchen | ||||
| ||||
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Spring is in the Air
How did a girl who journaled almost daily for fifteen years and collected 15 handwritten journals during that time morph into an English teacher in Korea who only updates her blog every few weeks? My knack for detailing daily events is dwindling when it should be peaking. How the hell will I ever write my Great American Non-fiction Novel? Discipline, I suppose, it will take. Or perhaps, good health! Yes, folks, I've returned to the land of the living after a seven-day stay in the hospital and three-day home rest following that. Finally, about two weeks ago, I rejoined my fellow teachers and the kids that I teach.
It was a little slow-going for me to get back in the swing of things (1 p.m. hit and I was ready for my nap!), but overall, it wasn't too bad. I finally felt well enough this weekend to venture out and about in Seoul and so after helping a friend move on Saturday, I went into Seoul on Sunday with Justin to see the springtime cherry blossoms.
Logic might have told some of you to bring a map of the area we were visiting, but, hey, logic schmalogic. Besides, I was armed with meaty information: the cherry blossoms were by a lake. Using our crafty navigational skills and rudimentary grasp of Korean, J and I finally found Seok Chun Lake.
It was a little slow-going for me to get back in the swing of things (1 p.m. hit and I was ready for my nap!), but overall, it wasn't too bad. I finally felt well enough this weekend to venture out and about in Seoul and so after helping a friend move on Saturday, I went into Seoul on Sunday with Justin to see the springtime cherry blossoms.
Logic might have told some of you to bring a map of the area we were visiting, but, hey, logic schmalogic. Besides, I was armed with meaty information: the cherry blossoms were by a lake. Using our crafty navigational skills and rudimentary grasp of Korean, J and I finally found Seok Chun Lake.
With a Disney-inspired 'Magic Island' theme park in the middle of the lake, Seok Chun Lake is pretty damn big... and I loved the cherry blossoms everywhere. Although it was overcast, the temperature more than made up for it. In the last week, the temp has finally climbed over 65 degrees and it has felt GREAT!
Oh yes, and how could I forget. On Saturday, I went to a hair salon (not in Seoul, though) to have my gray hair dyed. Not a lick of English was spoken and the process of dying hair was .... not up to American expectations. The hair dresser seemed nice enough, but extremely haphazard in how she applied the dye. It wasn't until she zipped an aluminum bag over my head and steamed my hair that I began to worry. And while that turned out to be ok, the color of the dye did not. Before, my hair was brown and gray. Now, it's brown and orange. But, hey, those colors compliment each other, don't they? :)
Back to Sunday: I went bowling with new-found English teachers! It was very exciting. If you're wondering, the bowling system is the same, but there's no food or beer to be had in the hall. Boooo. Other than that, eight lanes, same balls, same crappy bowling score (for me, anyway!). You know, same, same.
Work news: Apparently, we're hiking a mountain together on Friday. Nature is great, don't get me wrong, and I like hiking just fine... On my own terms. And in my own forest or on my own mountain (by that, I mean, not with 40 other people in my immediate vicinty with whom I should engage in small talk). Afterward, we're having dinner. As Katrina so eloquently put it: "There better be soju involved!" Agreed!
In other news, I've been trying to book a May flight to Japan for the last five days, but everything is booked. Turns out I want to fly on a major Korean, Japanese, and Chinese holiday: Children's Day. Not quite sure the origins of the holiday or the specifics, but I'll check it out and get back to you. The good news of it all is that I have a five-day (Wed-Sun) break from work the first week of May. Sweet! The better news is that a friend of mine found me a flight leaving on May 6 to Okinawa, so I will finally get to see my sister, bro-in-law, nieces and nephew after more than a year and a half!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
SID: Suzi's Illness of Death
To borrow from my fellow teacher's clever wordsmithing, my SIDs seems to be close (thanks, Katrina... I'm both in awe and a little jealous at your cleverness.) But I digress.
Yesterday (Monday, 3/29), I was admitted to the hospital. Finally. This was, of course, after a full 72-hour Friday - Monday morning full on don't move-from-the-bed-not-so-comfortable-sleep-a-thon. While I thought this rest was sure to be a cure all, by the time I made the trek to work (a mere 10 minutes on a regular day; 25 for this wheezing girl!), I collapsed into a chair in exhaustion and no breath. It was pretty obvious teaching was out of the question. So, a school representative drove me home after I laughed at my manager's suggestion that I hoof it back home. Seriously? Was he blind?
My fellow teacher, Katrina, had also fallen ill over the weekend, but was up for teaching so the plan was to head to the doc's after school. And off we went.
Despite my insistance that I had pneumonia, my doctor was quite sure I didn't. Fair enough, but he did think my symptoms (ZERO energy, no breath) were serious enough to be admitted to the hospital for five days. My room wouldn't be ready for the next few hours, so after another chest xray, urine test and bloodwork, I went home to gather some necessities and returned at 7:30 p.m.
In Korea, there are three types of patient rooms:
1. Six-bed rooms. WTF? It's not a freakin' hostel! It is the cheapest option, but uhh, no thanks. Call me a snob, pretentious, whatever. Not going to do it.
2. Shared room. Ok, so this is fairly common. But I still wanted my own room.
3. The coveted private room. The most expensive, yes, but I was willing to splurge. Unfortunately, they didn't have any available so shared it was. Thankfully, my roommate didn't join me until this afternoon, so I had the room to myself last night. My roomie is pretty cool. She's quiet. I help her turn on and off the TV and shut the door to our room when nurses don't shut it. I shared an orange with her. It's all good.
For the first time in more than two weeks, I've felt a semblance of energy. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel alive. It's been a strict night-of-the-walking-dead existence for so long. It went from "go,go,go, can't catch time" to "BAM. you're done. fallen. give up now. Resistance is futile." That's what Suzi's Illness of Death will do to you! Ahh, yes, which leads me to...
This morning. After a visit from my vice principal, who came bearing gifts of milk and cocoa, the doctor came in and lo and behold, can you guess what he had to share? Ahhh yes, he had examined my chest xray and *surprise* -- I have freakin' pneumonia! He's a good guy, speaks good medical English and I'm not doubting his doctor abilities... I'm just sayin' is all!
Speaking of the non-English speaking staff... boy, I'll tell ya.. it's a whole new "lost in translation" effect. my pocket translator doesn't do much help and I'm pretty sure they pull straws for who has to come in and deal with me (nah, not really), but it's pretty amusing they think I'll understand what they say. The cool thing is they're not jerks and aren't condescending or anything. And they don't seem to be too frustrated. Can't complain.
Anyway, I'm just excited to finally be correctly diagnosed and getting the right treatment. It's obviously working since I've stayed awake all day. listened to music, read and written emails, blogged, socialized... oh it's so exciting! I see the light ya'll! And not the light I saw the other night when Carol Ann was beckoning me over to the other side.
A few coworkers stopped by after school. They're also not feeling up to par... we're all just a bunch of crazy, sick English teachers! What the hell? Is there something in the water??? I was pretty upset to miss a big meetup of foreign English teachers in the area last night, but know that we'll meet up again.
Meanwhile, the WiFi is pretty weak at the hospital but I'm happy to get it when I can.
So I found this quote and thought it pretty fitting:
"The most important thing in illness is never to lose heart." -- Nicolai Lenin
It's been rough, but I think I'm starting to find my heart again. Nothing like some good meds to help along with that! ;)
Until next time, I'm wishing you all MUCH health!
Yesterday (Monday, 3/29), I was admitted to the hospital. Finally. This was, of course, after a full 72-hour Friday - Monday morning full on don't move-from-the-bed-not-so-comfortable-sleep-a-thon. While I thought this rest was sure to be a cure all, by the time I made the trek to work (a mere 10 minutes on a regular day; 25 for this wheezing girl!), I collapsed into a chair in exhaustion and no breath. It was pretty obvious teaching was out of the question. So, a school representative drove me home after I laughed at my manager's suggestion that I hoof it back home. Seriously? Was he blind?
My fellow teacher, Katrina, had also fallen ill over the weekend, but was up for teaching so the plan was to head to the doc's after school. And off we went.
Despite my insistance that I had pneumonia, my doctor was quite sure I didn't. Fair enough, but he did think my symptoms (ZERO energy, no breath) were serious enough to be admitted to the hospital for five days. My room wouldn't be ready for the next few hours, so after another chest xray, urine test and bloodwork, I went home to gather some necessities and returned at 7:30 p.m.
In Korea, there are three types of patient rooms:
1. Six-bed rooms. WTF? It's not a freakin' hostel! It is the cheapest option, but uhh, no thanks. Call me a snob, pretentious, whatever. Not going to do it.
2. Shared room. Ok, so this is fairly common. But I still wanted my own room.
3. The coveted private room. The most expensive, yes, but I was willing to splurge. Unfortunately, they didn't have any available so shared it was. Thankfully, my roommate didn't join me until this afternoon, so I had the room to myself last night. My roomie is pretty cool. She's quiet. I help her turn on and off the TV and shut the door to our room when nurses don't shut it. I shared an orange with her. It's all good.
For the first time in more than two weeks, I've felt a semblance of energy. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel alive. It's been a strict night-of-the-walking-dead existence for so long. It went from "go,go,go, can't catch time" to "BAM. you're done. fallen. give up now. Resistance is futile." That's what Suzi's Illness of Death will do to you! Ahh, yes, which leads me to...
This morning. After a visit from my vice principal, who came bearing gifts of milk and cocoa, the doctor came in and lo and behold, can you guess what he had to share? Ahhh yes, he had examined my chest xray and *surprise* -- I have freakin' pneumonia! He's a good guy, speaks good medical English and I'm not doubting his doctor abilities... I'm just sayin' is all!
Speaking of the non-English speaking staff... boy, I'll tell ya.. it's a whole new "lost in translation" effect. my pocket translator doesn't do much help and I'm pretty sure they pull straws for who has to come in and deal with me (nah, not really), but it's pretty amusing they think I'll understand what they say. The cool thing is they're not jerks and aren't condescending or anything. And they don't seem to be too frustrated. Can't complain.
Anyway, I'm just excited to finally be correctly diagnosed and getting the right treatment. It's obviously working since I've stayed awake all day. listened to music, read and written emails, blogged, socialized... oh it's so exciting! I see the light ya'll! And not the light I saw the other night when Carol Ann was beckoning me over to the other side.
A few coworkers stopped by after school. They're also not feeling up to par... we're all just a bunch of crazy, sick English teachers! What the hell? Is there something in the water??? I was pretty upset to miss a big meetup of foreign English teachers in the area last night, but know that we'll meet up again.
Meanwhile, the WiFi is pretty weak at the hospital but I'm happy to get it when I can.
So I found this quote and thought it pretty fitting:
"The most important thing in illness is never to lose heart." -- Nicolai Lenin
It's been rough, but I think I'm starting to find my heart again. Nothing like some good meds to help along with that! ;)
Until next time, I'm wishing you all MUCH health!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A sickly report
Where do I even start? I'm not even sure when last I wrote. I'd love to say I've been so caught up in the beauties of my new life that time has gotten away from me, but alas, that would not be true. It is true enough, though, that time has gotten away from me... in doubled-over, lung-hacking, phelgm-producing hazy days! Ahh, yes. To be sick in a foreign country... there's nothing quite like it.
What started as a sore throat quickly morphed into a fierce case of laryngitis, which, of course, coincided with the beginning of teaching two hour time blocks of an afterschool program that had little direction and tons of hyperactive kids! And then... the sinuses/nasal congestion started... and then the cough... and then *hope* I regained my voice! Ahh, but wait... false hope -- my cough deepened. Although my initial chest x-ray showed no signs of pneumonia, the fact that I've made two trips to the doctor's in the past two days for a cortisteroid IV injection to open my airways makes me doubt the prognosis.
So here I am. I'm finally strong enough to string together a few words, but am so irritated (I think it's the steroids!) that I can't seem to really express what I want to say. I feel clumsy and useless.
A bit of background, though. On my first trip (of four) to the doctor's, I had a chest xray and was prescribed three days worth of pills... about 13 pills per day. What those pills were supposed to do is beyond me, but they didn't work. The upside? Doc's visit + xray + 40 some odd pills = less than $20.
Three days later (doc's only prescribe meds for three days at a time), I still felt shitty, so I returned. More pills, but a different set. Again... about 13/day. And again, pretty useless.
Four days later, couldn't breathe. Felt like crawling out my skin. Doc ordered steroid IV to open my airways... finally-relief! (After, of course, one of the nurses blew out one of my veins-ouch!)
And today. Had to return for another IV... doesn't seem to be helping as much, but at least I'm not continually dislodging my lungs from their permanent positions.
Oh, but my original point: I think all of this has cost me less than a hundred bucks. So, while the meds are questionably effective, at least they're cheap!
I know this post must sound pathetic and whiny, but I'm sick and need an outlet. Today was such a rough day. I dealt with hellions all day. Well, not all day. Some of the students kicked ass, but when one boy threatened to beat a girl over the head with a chair because she stole his stickers, I'd about reached the end of my rope.
For a minute, I almost closed my eyes and clicked my heels three times. But then I realized -- I'm already home.
And so, in efforts to lift my spirits, I'm going to get lost in music... maybe a little Mamma Mia will do the trick. :)
What started as a sore throat quickly morphed into a fierce case of laryngitis, which, of course, coincided with the beginning of teaching two hour time blocks of an afterschool program that had little direction and tons of hyperactive kids! And then... the sinuses/nasal congestion started... and then the cough... and then *hope* I regained my voice! Ahh, but wait... false hope -- my cough deepened. Although my initial chest x-ray showed no signs of pneumonia, the fact that I've made two trips to the doctor's in the past two days for a cortisteroid IV injection to open my airways makes me doubt the prognosis.
So here I am. I'm finally strong enough to string together a few words, but am so irritated (I think it's the steroids!) that I can't seem to really express what I want to say. I feel clumsy and useless.
A bit of background, though. On my first trip (of four) to the doctor's, I had a chest xray and was prescribed three days worth of pills... about 13 pills per day. What those pills were supposed to do is beyond me, but they didn't work. The upside? Doc's visit + xray + 40 some odd pills = less than $20.
Three days later (doc's only prescribe meds for three days at a time), I still felt shitty, so I returned. More pills, but a different set. Again... about 13/day. And again, pretty useless.
Four days later, couldn't breathe. Felt like crawling out my skin. Doc ordered steroid IV to open my airways... finally-relief! (After, of course, one of the nurses blew out one of my veins-ouch!)
And today. Had to return for another IV... doesn't seem to be helping as much, but at least I'm not continually dislodging my lungs from their permanent positions.
Oh, but my original point: I think all of this has cost me less than a hundred bucks. So, while the meds are questionably effective, at least they're cheap!
I know this post must sound pathetic and whiny, but I'm sick and need an outlet. Today was such a rough day. I dealt with hellions all day. Well, not all day. Some of the students kicked ass, but when one boy threatened to beat a girl over the head with a chair because she stole his stickers, I'd about reached the end of my rope.
For a minute, I almost closed my eyes and clicked my heels three times. But then I realized -- I'm already home.
And so, in efforts to lift my spirits, I'm going to get lost in music... maybe a little Mamma Mia will do the trick. :)
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
You win some. you lose some
It was only appropriate that when I turned on my iPod to escape the afternoon's events, Robbie William's rendition of "You win some, You lose some" blared in my ears. Fitting enough, for sure, and it certainly helped me put today in perspective. After all, life in Korea (or anywhere) can't really be all peaches and roses, can it?
I find it amazing how humbling teaching first, second, and third graders can be. Humbling in the sense that it can bring you to your knees in the realization that you have absolutely no clue how to control the little ankle biters and that the degree you earned offers no support in the classroom. I'll be the first to admit: I don't know kids. I don't have them; I'm usually not around them; and quite frankly, they scare me a little. Having said that, I really was (and still am) excited at the challenge of teaching them. And up until today, it's been good. Sure, I have some classroom management issues and I'm not the most creative creature in the forest, but with the help of my awesome coworkers, it's been all good.
Ahhh, but today. As part of our schedules, the English teachers are required to teach four hours (two hour blocks twice a week) of an afterschool program. Topics were chosen a bit haphazardly and I selected creative writing, with the understanding that I would teach students in third, fourth, fifth, and maybe sixth grades, with perhaps a higher command of the English language. Oh, to have that understanding again. In reality, it turned out to be 18 first and second graders with a wide range of English-speaking abilities.
Have you ever spent 100 minutes with 18 six- and seven- year olds?
Aya -- so to wrap this up as it is quite late, my head teacher "assisted" me today (second time meeting these kids).. I say, "assisted" because in reality, he led the class. Thankfully so. There are a couple of things with this that I initially listed, but deleted here because I'm not quite so sure I want to share all that information with the world :) Anyway, the primary note to self is this:
I don't like feeling like I'm not in control... whether be it in a class, in a personal situation, or what have you. I should have full command (well, maybe not FULL command). And when there's someone else in the room, albeit to help ME!, I wither into a wilted rose plant seemingly unworthy of water. Ok, so *maybe* that's slightly melodramatic, but I'm supposed to be into creative writing, n'est pas? Don't misintrepret me; I'm really not a Type-A control freak, but when everything seems to be spinning OUT of control, all you can do is hold on to a shred of controllness and work it as best you can!
I don't even know if this makes sense.
*end senseless rant*
Post-script: My afterschool class has officially been "reworded" or changed? to Translation. I'll spare you the details, but the main message is that the 18 kids will be split into two groups (WHEW).
I find it amazing how humbling teaching first, second, and third graders can be. Humbling in the sense that it can bring you to your knees in the realization that you have absolutely no clue how to control the little ankle biters and that the degree you earned offers no support in the classroom. I'll be the first to admit: I don't know kids. I don't have them; I'm usually not around them; and quite frankly, they scare me a little. Having said that, I really was (and still am) excited at the challenge of teaching them. And up until today, it's been good. Sure, I have some classroom management issues and I'm not the most creative creature in the forest, but with the help of my awesome coworkers, it's been all good.
Ahhh, but today. As part of our schedules, the English teachers are required to teach four hours (two hour blocks twice a week) of an afterschool program. Topics were chosen a bit haphazardly and I selected creative writing, with the understanding that I would teach students in third, fourth, fifth, and maybe sixth grades, with perhaps a higher command of the English language. Oh, to have that understanding again. In reality, it turned out to be 18 first and second graders with a wide range of English-speaking abilities.
Have you ever spent 100 minutes with 18 six- and seven- year olds?
Aya -- so to wrap this up as it is quite late, my head teacher "assisted" me today (second time meeting these kids).. I say, "assisted" because in reality, he led the class. Thankfully so. There are a couple of things with this that I initially listed, but deleted here because I'm not quite so sure I want to share all that information with the world :) Anyway, the primary note to self is this:
I don't like feeling like I'm not in control... whether be it in a class, in a personal situation, or what have you. I should have full command (well, maybe not FULL command). And when there's someone else in the room, albeit to help ME!, I wither into a wilted rose plant seemingly unworthy of water. Ok, so *maybe* that's slightly melodramatic, but I'm supposed to be into creative writing, n'est pas? Don't misintrepret me; I'm really not a Type-A control freak, but when everything seems to be spinning OUT of control, all you can do is hold on to a shred of controllness and work it as best you can!
I don't even know if this makes sense.
*end senseless rant*
Post-script: My afterschool class has officially been "reworded" or changed? to Translation. I'll spare you the details, but the main message is that the 18 kids will be split into two groups (WHEW).
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Link to photos
In my previous post, I figured out how to include a few photos. However, it's a pain in the arse, and now it's late, and I know many of you want to see pictures. So, in the interest of time and convenience, here is a link to some photos I've posted on Facebook. Not to worry, you do not need a Facebook account to view these photos. In the future, I'll work in more photos to the blog, but for now, this will suffice :)
Link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=208467&id=612675882&1=6814ea8a86
Cheers,
Suz
Link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=208467&id=612675882&1=6814ea8a86
Cheers,
Suz
Two weeks: a brief reflection
Two weeks in and I'm loving life here. I've met some really awesome people, I love my coworkers, my apartment kicks ass, and I'm on other other side of the freakin' world! When I left for Korea, I tried to limit my expectations, taking more of a "hope for the best, expect the worse" stance (if you do some research on teaching ESL in Korea, you'll know why I held that stance!) But, by leaps and bounds, my experience thus far has far exceeded any expectations.
The transition to life here has been relatively seamless. Sure, I wish I knew how to say more than "annyeong haseyo" (hello) and "kamsa hamnida" (thank you), but once I'm able to establish more of a routine, I know I'll buckle down and learn hangeul (Korean alphabet)... and following that, I'll take classes, for sure. I can't stand not being functionally literate. All the same, though, I haven't been distraught over my lack of language ability. I feel like I need to give myself some slack and I realize that it will come with time. Yes, the town in which I'm residing is small, but I think I might actually prefer that to big-city life (time will tell, eh?) Admittingly, I would prefer that the E-mart (equivalent to a super WalMart on steorids) was not a 20 minute bus ride away, but hey- you deal with what you've got. Meanwhile, with big-city Seoul only about 45 minutes away, it's an easy commute to escape this "country" life.
It's a bit strange... living this life is so natural for me (not the aforementioned "country" life... just life in Korea in general!). I feel like I'm "home" and that the year will only get better.*
*Disclaimer: This does not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean that I will not experience intense periods of frustration -- either with work or life (so don't be surprised to see those blog posts!). However, as a whole, I'm so content and have absolutely no doubts that this is exactly where the universe intends for me to be.
It's a great feeling.
The transition to life here has been relatively seamless. Sure, I wish I knew how to say more than "annyeong haseyo" (hello) and "kamsa hamnida" (thank you), but once I'm able to establish more of a routine, I know I'll buckle down and learn hangeul (Korean alphabet)... and following that, I'll take classes, for sure. I can't stand not being functionally literate. All the same, though, I haven't been distraught over my lack of language ability. I feel like I need to give myself some slack and I realize that it will come with time. Yes, the town in which I'm residing is small, but I think I might actually prefer that to big-city life (time will tell, eh?) Admittingly, I would prefer that the E-mart (equivalent to a super WalMart on steorids) was not a 20 minute bus ride away, but hey- you deal with what you've got. Meanwhile, with big-city Seoul only about 45 minutes away, it's an easy commute to escape this "country" life.
It's a bit strange... living this life is so natural for me (not the aforementioned "country" life... just life in Korea in general!). I feel like I'm "home" and that the year will only get better.*
*Disclaimer: This does not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean that I will not experience intense periods of frustration -- either with work or life (so don't be surprised to see those blog posts!). However, as a whole, I'm so content and have absolutely no doubts that this is exactly where the universe intends for me to be.
It's a great feeling.
Welcome Back: not your average kick-off to a new school year
Last Wednesday, my school held its annual "Welcome Ceremony" for incoming first-graders (so cute!). I'm not sure "Welcome Ceremony" is the title meant for what happened later that afternoon, but for our purposes, let's just assume it is.
With the chairman of the school board in tow, the principal, vice principal, and faculty and staff gathered together for a "kick-off" dinner. (FYI: March is the start of the Korean school year.) Sitting down for a Korean-style dinner (everything in this town is Korean-style, but in this particular instance, no table and chairs were provided... we sat on the ondol-heated floors), the teachers appeared to be segregated by age (younger; older) and then "us" (the English teachers). As most of you know, I absolutely love forced social interactions ;) -- but seriously, this was awesome. I had a great time, even with the chairman and principal sitting diagonally from me.
After the meal and several soju shots (have I mentioned this? Soju is rice wine that is more on par with vodka than "wine". It's extremely important in Korean culture and you will often be asked how many bottles you can drink), everyone got up and mingled and all was good. It was definitely interesting to see the chairman and principal and... well, everyone else, getting their drink on. While that may be more common in corporate America, I can't say that I know of any teachers in the States that drink it up with their superindendents/principals/presidents, etc. I took careful notes, though, of the night's events in the event SSC wants to beef up their own annual "Welcome Back" event. I think they could learn a thing or two!!! (SSCer's: Do you think E. Ann would be receptive to adding soju to the ceremony?? Heehee.)
Below: This is my school's principal. Note the empty shot glass in his hand. Someone should have refilled it ASAP. In Korea, when someone finishes a drink (especially your boss!), it is considered rude not to refill it. (Note to self: do not always finish soju shots!)
Two and half hours later, I thought, surely, this evening is coming to a close. Ha! Not even close. We (as in Korean and Western teachers + administration) walked over to the noraembang (karoke rooms) where the evening continued.
Below: I was coerced into this. I thought it only appropriate to belt out Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer." What else would I be doing living in Korea???
Below: Katrina believes in life after love.
And our principal (far right) loves busting a move to "La Bamba"! (PS: On the far left is the manager of my school's English department; peering on in the middle back is the chairman of the school board.)
Ahhh, what a night. Best Welcome Back event I've ever attended!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Agendas: friend or foe?
In the days leading up to the Westerners' first day of teaching, the English department had a few "meetings." Given the outcome (and I use the term "outcome" very loosely), I am now a die-hard supporter of agendas. Of course, creating agendas for meetings has been drilled into my work life for the better part of a decade. Agendas provide a map, and perhaps, can even serve as an accountability measure (for example, if you don't cover what you said you were going to cover in a meeting, then what the hell was the meeting about and why did you have it?!). Above all, though, agendas provide organization and with some insight, a rough timeline for the meeting in which you're about to endure.
So, why, you may wonder, the sudden interest in agendas? Well, if you're of the school of thought that agendas place everyone on the same page for a particular meeting and that they tend to serve as a loose communciation or information vehicle, then just imagine what NOT having an agenda might be like in a meeting where two languages are spoken (and you don't speak the second language).
Ok -- by now, I'm assuming you've picked up that I was in meeting where an agenda was not present. Fair enough. I've held my share of meetings with forgotten agendas (but always with personal notes to make sure I stayed on point!). Alas, in this particular meeting, I don't think anyone knew the purpose. And so we spent an ungodly amount of time talking about which order the English teachers should complete weekly plans and daily lesson plans (keep in mind we were scheduled to teach the following day and had already completed this week's "weekly plan"). The debate was on whether to (1) Plan for the next day's teaching lessons, or (2) Plan for the following week's lessons. Between you and me, I personally felt that MAYBE planning for the first day of classes was *slightly* more important than worrying about what we would teach the following week. But hey, I'm just an English teacher. What do I know???
Oh, blast those weekly and daily plans!
I'm not entirely sure what happened, but the meeting quickly turned into the vice principal dominating the conversation. She doesn't speak English, so for 20 minutes, the Koreans talked amongst themselves while the department manager gazed in the distance with a look of sheer "I'm getting my ass kicked" bushwacked look. Although I didn't know what the VP was saying, I had only assumed the topic had been changed. What I did think was that everything sounded more important in Korean. But it probably isn't. Turns out, I was right. After 20 minutes, English was spoken again and we were STILL talking about weekly vs. daily plans. AYA!
*End rant on agendas and weekly/daily plans*
So, why, you may wonder, the sudden interest in agendas? Well, if you're of the school of thought that agendas place everyone on the same page for a particular meeting and that they tend to serve as a loose communciation or information vehicle, then just imagine what NOT having an agenda might be like in a meeting where two languages are spoken (and you don't speak the second language).
Ok -- by now, I'm assuming you've picked up that I was in meeting where an agenda was not present. Fair enough. I've held my share of meetings with forgotten agendas (but always with personal notes to make sure I stayed on point!). Alas, in this particular meeting, I don't think anyone knew the purpose. And so we spent an ungodly amount of time talking about which order the English teachers should complete weekly plans and daily lesson plans (keep in mind we were scheduled to teach the following day and had already completed this week's "weekly plan"). The debate was on whether to (1) Plan for the next day's teaching lessons, or (2) Plan for the following week's lessons. Between you and me, I personally felt that MAYBE planning for the first day of classes was *slightly* more important than worrying about what we would teach the following week. But hey, I'm just an English teacher. What do I know???
Oh, blast those weekly and daily plans!
I'm not entirely sure what happened, but the meeting quickly turned into the vice principal dominating the conversation. She doesn't speak English, so for 20 minutes, the Koreans talked amongst themselves while the department manager gazed in the distance with a look of sheer "I'm getting my ass kicked" bushwacked look. Although I didn't know what the VP was saying, I had only assumed the topic had been changed. What I did think was that everything sounded more important in Korean. But it probably isn't. Turns out, I was right. After 20 minutes, English was spoken again and we were STILL talking about weekly vs. daily plans. AYA!
*End rant on agendas and weekly/daily plans*
Monday, March 1, 2010
Yada, yada, yada meets blah, blah, blah
Captain's log: Day 10
As it's very late and school starts tomorrow, I've written a few snippets of the past week's events so as not to fall so far behind and forget what's been going on! Everything is fluid and plans change frequently, so remaining flexible is key to not freaking out (so far, so good... who knew flexibility and patience really are key attributes!)
Orientation: Tuesday, February 23 marked my first official day at my school. The Western teachers were introduced to the Korean teachers in what proved to be a delightfully short first meeting with the principal. Our principal, who we had met the day before, is a man of few words. His welcoming message to the English teachers: "Welcome. Do a good job. Goodbye." Fair enough. Message received!
And so, after meeting our Korean counterparts, we retreated to a second floor classroom and began a week of questionable productivity. Presentations on Korea's history (I'm not quite sure a qualified fact-checker was employed in reviewing the facts, though; apparently, a few key facts were omitted!), classroom management and other key information were provided. We brainstormed names for each "level" of English proficiency (jungle animals for lower grades; elements for higher grades), crafted snappy slogans to be posted in our classrooms, selected our teaching dens, and later in the week, cut rainbow triangles and fastened them to ribbon to make flags for decor! (Given my distinct lack of arts&crafts skills, this was, by far, my least favorite activity and, in what may be a surprise to you, instilled a level of anxiety I had yet to experience since arriving in Korea!)
Korean food: Eating in Korea is a communal event. All the dishes are shared, and each meal comes with several side dishes. Again with the pictures -- I have them, but have yet to sort out how to post them here. Give me time. Speaking of time, it's only taken 10 days to progress from being a chopsticks-fumbling fool to below-basic, but still functioning, *master* of chopsticks!
Seoul: Venturing into the big city took an hour by bus to reach the nearest subway station (but only 30 minutes on return ride home... traffic woes) and then another hour to reach Itaewon. Itaweon is the area where Westerners are known to congregate. Personally, I found the place relatively unimpressive, but I do imagine it will be comforting to visit a Subway after a few months in good ol' Maseok. I'm interested in seeing some other areas of Seoul, but I've always held a pretty consistent view of big cities: A big city is a big city. You can be anywhere in the world and see the same thing. What's the draw?
Maseok (Namyangju): While Seoul is a sprawling metropolis, Maseok can be covered by foot in about 20 minutes.. It's much smaller than I had anticipated, but I can't complain. I live right off the main street, so I hear the cars whizzing by, but thankfully, the noise doesn't bother me. It's soothing, actually. The next town over (20 minutes by car) has an EMart, which is like a steroid-enhanced Walmart.
Health check: Briefly... we've all peed in cups, right? Agreed, I'm sure, BUT can you say you've ever peed in a paper Dixie cup and handed it over to a non-gloved nurse? Oh yeah, baby. That's top notch sanitary.
Soju = whhaaa TF? (more later)
And the winning phrase for the week? Blah, Blah, Blah... similar to Seinfeld's clever yada, yada, yada to gloss over details, Korea's blah, blah, blah, might be more for glossing over words not known in English, but still maintains the integrity of yada, yada, yada. Our trusty Korean boss employs this phrase in almost every conversation.
And ... blah, blah, blah. Now I'm a millionaire.
Onward and upward,
Suzi
As it's very late and school starts tomorrow, I've written a few snippets of the past week's events so as not to fall so far behind and forget what's been going on! Everything is fluid and plans change frequently, so remaining flexible is key to not freaking out (so far, so good... who knew flexibility and patience really are key attributes!)
Orientation: Tuesday, February 23 marked my first official day at my school. The Western teachers were introduced to the Korean teachers in what proved to be a delightfully short first meeting with the principal. Our principal, who we had met the day before, is a man of few words. His welcoming message to the English teachers: "Welcome. Do a good job. Goodbye." Fair enough. Message received!
And so, after meeting our Korean counterparts, we retreated to a second floor classroom and began a week of questionable productivity. Presentations on Korea's history (I'm not quite sure a qualified fact-checker was employed in reviewing the facts, though; apparently, a few key facts were omitted!), classroom management and other key information were provided. We brainstormed names for each "level" of English proficiency (jungle animals for lower grades; elements for higher grades), crafted snappy slogans to be posted in our classrooms, selected our teaching dens, and later in the week, cut rainbow triangles and fastened them to ribbon to make flags for decor! (Given my distinct lack of arts&crafts skills, this was, by far, my least favorite activity and, in what may be a surprise to you, instilled a level of anxiety I had yet to experience since arriving in Korea!)
Korean food: Eating in Korea is a communal event. All the dishes are shared, and each meal comes with several side dishes. Again with the pictures -- I have them, but have yet to sort out how to post them here. Give me time. Speaking of time, it's only taken 10 days to progress from being a chopsticks-fumbling fool to below-basic, but still functioning, *master* of chopsticks!
Seoul: Venturing into the big city took an hour by bus to reach the nearest subway station (but only 30 minutes on return ride home... traffic woes) and then another hour to reach Itaewon. Itaweon is the area where Westerners are known to congregate. Personally, I found the place relatively unimpressive, but I do imagine it will be comforting to visit a Subway after a few months in good ol' Maseok. I'm interested in seeing some other areas of Seoul, but I've always held a pretty consistent view of big cities: A big city is a big city. You can be anywhere in the world and see the same thing. What's the draw?
Maseok (Namyangju): While Seoul is a sprawling metropolis, Maseok can be covered by foot in about 20 minutes.. It's much smaller than I had anticipated, but I can't complain. I live right off the main street, so I hear the cars whizzing by, but thankfully, the noise doesn't bother me. It's soothing, actually. The next town over (20 minutes by car) has an EMart, which is like a steroid-enhanced Walmart.
Health check: Briefly... we've all peed in cups, right? Agreed, I'm sure, BUT can you say you've ever peed in a paper Dixie cup and handed it over to a non-gloved nurse? Oh yeah, baby. That's top notch sanitary.
Soju = whhaaa TF? (more later)
And the winning phrase for the week? Blah, Blah, Blah... similar to Seinfeld's clever yada, yada, yada to gloss over details, Korea's blah, blah, blah, might be more for glossing over words not known in English, but still maintains the integrity of yada, yada, yada. Our trusty Korean boss employs this phrase in almost every conversation.
And ... blah, blah, blah. Now I'm a millionaire.
Onward and upward,
Suzi
Sunday, February 21, 2010
First impressions
After making my way through Immigration, Baggage Claim, and Customs, I met the man holding my name in his hands. I've always wanted to be one of those people who had a stranger waiting for them at an airport.
Quickly, he whisked me to another area of the airport where I met my future co-worker (wouldn't it have been a good idea for my recruiter to have introduced us before then? No worries, though... just an idea). The driver handed his cell phone to me and I was greeted by my recruiter on the line welcoming me to Korea.
About an hour's drive later, coworker and I arrived in Namyangju and met the new head of the school's English department and the new head teacher. It was about 9 p.m. While K (I don't feel like I know her enough to publish her identity here just yet) seemed a little surprised that we'd be meeting our boss, I wasn't all that shocked. First impression: the dept. head and the head teacher are super cool. I'm extremely happy. It's also nice to know that we're all new. While I suppose it would be helpful to have an old hand around to help out, there's something comforting knowing we'll all be going through this together.
Before we headed to dinner, we stopped by our individual apartments -- Yippee! It came true - I DO live by myself! SCORE. And the apartment is so much more than I expected (especially since I could never acquire pics from the school). If I knew how to post pics in this blog, I'd show you the place, but because I'm new to blogger, I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Stay tuned for a future blog dedicated to apt. pics. The place is seemingly brand new... at the very least, everything in the apt. is brand new... the table chairs still have the cellophane on them. The school provided a twin bed (with really kick-ass hot pink bedding!), a flat screen TV (hell yeah!), a couple plates, a few coffee mugs, a refrigerator, a washer, an iron (but I need a board), a microwave, and a pot and a pan.
The head teacher, who has been in Korea for a year and half, mentioned how lucky we are to have the accommodations we have. He's never had anything this good. He also said that he's pretty happy about the school -- it has a great reputation, it's prestigious and everything checks out (as compared to the horror stories of places he was sure we had heard... and he assured us those horror stories are generally true!).
Back to the night's events... we had a great dinner, but I was knackered and fully ready to hit the sheets (not the hot pink ones; I'd been advised to bring my own... thanks for the sale BB&Y). After the head teacher dropped us off (and after his quick purchase of toilet paper and water for us), I showered, unpacked a few things and nodded off around midnight. All in all, my "day" had lasted longer than 25 hours.
Eight hours later, I was up and at 'em, though I'll admit I lounged around for two hours before finally unpacking the rest of my stuff. And then is was time to venture out, explore the city, find some grub, and hit a PC Bang (since the adapter I bought at RadioShack, is indeed, incompatible with plugs over here).
I knew that English was not well spoken or used much outside of Seoul... and wow, is that true! No signs, except for a few street signs, businesses promoting PC Bangs, and the occassional "chicken" restaurants, are in English. Intimidated by the first few eateries I passed, I opted for a place that had "chicken" written in English. When I attempted to pronounce the Korean words for "chicken"and "water", the guy was like, uhhhh, whhaaa? He was really nice, though, and we worked it out. Turns out I also asked for a crap-ton of chicken and paid the equivalent of $15. Well, what can I expect when I don't know the language??? Overall, the experience wasn't too tramautizing!
Walked around a bit more, found the school I'll be teaching at, and came to the PC Bang. Language barriers definitely exist. The girl who works at the PC Bang didn't speak any English, and of course, I don't know Korean, so it made for a very interesting interaction. No worries, though. I got sorted and once we figured out how to switch the keyboard from Korean to English, I was off and running to my first blog written in Korea.
The head teacher should be coming by my apartment this evening with dinner. And I think we'll be securing cell phones as well. I hope!
Also heard from a friend of a college buddy (who gave me the friend's name) who has been in Seoul for the last three years teaching English. We're going to get together Friday night.
It's all very exciting!
Cheers.
Quickly, he whisked me to another area of the airport where I met my future co-worker (wouldn't it have been a good idea for my recruiter to have introduced us before then? No worries, though... just an idea). The driver handed his cell phone to me and I was greeted by my recruiter on the line welcoming me to Korea.
About an hour's drive later, coworker and I arrived in Namyangju and met the new head of the school's English department and the new head teacher. It was about 9 p.m. While K (I don't feel like I know her enough to publish her identity here just yet) seemed a little surprised that we'd be meeting our boss, I wasn't all that shocked. First impression: the dept. head and the head teacher are super cool. I'm extremely happy. It's also nice to know that we're all new. While I suppose it would be helpful to have an old hand around to help out, there's something comforting knowing we'll all be going through this together.
Before we headed to dinner, we stopped by our individual apartments -- Yippee! It came true - I DO live by myself! SCORE. And the apartment is so much more than I expected (especially since I could never acquire pics from the school). If I knew how to post pics in this blog, I'd show you the place, but because I'm new to blogger, I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Stay tuned for a future blog dedicated to apt. pics. The place is seemingly brand new... at the very least, everything in the apt. is brand new... the table chairs still have the cellophane on them. The school provided a twin bed (with really kick-ass hot pink bedding!), a flat screen TV (hell yeah!), a couple plates, a few coffee mugs, a refrigerator, a washer, an iron (but I need a board), a microwave, and a pot and a pan.
The head teacher, who has been in Korea for a year and half, mentioned how lucky we are to have the accommodations we have. He's never had anything this good. He also said that he's pretty happy about the school -- it has a great reputation, it's prestigious and everything checks out (as compared to the horror stories of places he was sure we had heard... and he assured us those horror stories are generally true!).
Back to the night's events... we had a great dinner, but I was knackered and fully ready to hit the sheets (not the hot pink ones; I'd been advised to bring my own... thanks for the sale BB&Y). After the head teacher dropped us off (and after his quick purchase of toilet paper and water for us), I showered, unpacked a few things and nodded off around midnight. All in all, my "day" had lasted longer than 25 hours.
Eight hours later, I was up and at 'em, though I'll admit I lounged around for two hours before finally unpacking the rest of my stuff. And then is was time to venture out, explore the city, find some grub, and hit a PC Bang (since the adapter I bought at RadioShack, is indeed, incompatible with plugs over here).
I knew that English was not well spoken or used much outside of Seoul... and wow, is that true! No signs, except for a few street signs, businesses promoting PC Bangs, and the occassional "chicken" restaurants, are in English. Intimidated by the first few eateries I passed, I opted for a place that had "chicken" written in English. When I attempted to pronounce the Korean words for "chicken"and "water", the guy was like, uhhhh, whhaaa? He was really nice, though, and we worked it out. Turns out I also asked for a crap-ton of chicken and paid the equivalent of $15. Well, what can I expect when I don't know the language??? Overall, the experience wasn't too tramautizing!
Walked around a bit more, found the school I'll be teaching at, and came to the PC Bang. Language barriers definitely exist. The girl who works at the PC Bang didn't speak any English, and of course, I don't know Korean, so it made for a very interesting interaction. No worries, though. I got sorted and once we figured out how to switch the keyboard from Korean to English, I was off and running to my first blog written in Korea.
The head teacher should be coming by my apartment this evening with dinner. And I think we'll be securing cell phones as well. I hope!
Also heard from a friend of a college buddy (who gave me the friend's name) who has been in Seoul for the last three years teaching English. We're going to get together Friday night.
It's all very exciting!
Cheers.
DOD: Day of Departure!
Timing, they say, is everything. After my hotel conveniently forgot to honor my 3:45 am wake-up call the morning I was scheduled to depart to South Korea, I was supremely pissed. My best friend in the world luckily woke up just before 5 a.m., thanks to her natural clock, and we rushed to the airport so I could check-in and catch my 6:30 a.m. flight.
Nothing is ever as simple as that, though. Though I had expected fees for overweight baggage, I was NOT expecting those fees to be $700!!! WHAT?! For those of you who know me, you know I generally thoroughly research information... that was not the price listed on UA's website. But, there was no arguing. Instead, the representative said it would be cheaper to check a third bag. I'm sure that's true, but unfortunately, I was sans third bag and all the airport shops were still closed! The UA rep disappeared into the back for the second time and returned with an extrememly beat-up duffel bag. After shuffling around toiletries and clothes, Liz and I managed to get the bags close to the maximum weight and my new UA friend ignored the few extra pounds and loaded the bags to the conveyer belt. WHEW!
Off to the clusterf*k that was security... How the lines were soooo backed up at 5:45 in the morning is beyond me. After snaking through the mess, I finally made it to my terminal where I walked on to my already-boarded plane at 6:20 a.m. We taxied from the gate a mere 15 minutes later.
Liz says I'm the luckiest person she's ever met. There was absolutely no way I should have made that plane (though is hardly the only reason she says I'm the luckiest.... she can list a host of examples pointing to her conclusion!).
Bound for San Francisco, I settled into my very, very nice aisle seat and reflected on what else the day might bring! During the next six hours, I realized that had La Quinta not so irresponsibly disregarded my morning wake-up call, I may not have met my new UA friend who was so unbelievably cool in helping me cut my charges! So, ok, La Quinta, you're off the hook. This time.
With a four-hour layover in San Fran, I somehow managed to only make the last call for boarding for my 1:30 p.m. flight. Don't ask... between eating lunch, checking e-mail, updating my Facebook status (you know, the important things in life), charging my phone in the walkway of the airport, calling family and friends, and exchanging US dollars into South Korean won, I just lost track of time.
But once again, I made it. :)
Twelve hours later, I landed in South Korea.
Stay tuned for the next blog!
A post note: I realize this isn't the most exciting entry you've ever read, but in an effort to capture details of my trip for myself, as well as for you, it's a necessary evil to include blow-by-blow information ;)
Nothing is ever as simple as that, though. Though I had expected fees for overweight baggage, I was NOT expecting those fees to be $700!!! WHAT?! For those of you who know me, you know I generally thoroughly research information... that was not the price listed on UA's website. But, there was no arguing. Instead, the representative said it would be cheaper to check a third bag. I'm sure that's true, but unfortunately, I was sans third bag and all the airport shops were still closed! The UA rep disappeared into the back for the second time and returned with an extrememly beat-up duffel bag. After shuffling around toiletries and clothes, Liz and I managed to get the bags close to the maximum weight and my new UA friend ignored the few extra pounds and loaded the bags to the conveyer belt. WHEW!
Off to the clusterf*k that was security... How the lines were soooo backed up at 5:45 in the morning is beyond me. After snaking through the mess, I finally made it to my terminal where I walked on to my already-boarded plane at 6:20 a.m. We taxied from the gate a mere 15 minutes later.
Liz says I'm the luckiest person she's ever met. There was absolutely no way I should have made that plane (though is hardly the only reason she says I'm the luckiest.... she can list a host of examples pointing to her conclusion!).
Bound for San Francisco, I settled into my very, very nice aisle seat and reflected on what else the day might bring! During the next six hours, I realized that had La Quinta not so irresponsibly disregarded my morning wake-up call, I may not have met my new UA friend who was so unbelievably cool in helping me cut my charges! So, ok, La Quinta, you're off the hook. This time.
With a four-hour layover in San Fran, I somehow managed to only make the last call for boarding for my 1:30 p.m. flight. Don't ask... between eating lunch, checking e-mail, updating my Facebook status (you know, the important things in life), charging my phone in the walkway of the airport, calling family and friends, and exchanging US dollars into South Korean won, I just lost track of time.
But once again, I made it. :)
Twelve hours later, I landed in South Korea.
Stay tuned for the next blog!
A post note: I realize this isn't the most exciting entry you've ever read, but in an effort to capture details of my trip for myself, as well as for you, it's a necessary evil to include blow-by-blow information ;)
Thursday, January 28, 2010
To bring you up to speed...
It's been a long time coming, my upcoming move to South Korea. Although skeptics believe the US (and global) economy and unemployment rates are to blame for the influx of American (and, in fact, Irish, British, Australian, and Kiwi) EFL teachers in Korea, it's only a minor factor in my personal decision to pull up roots and head to the Land of the Morning Calm.
In fact, I began this journey five years ago when I graduated with a degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. Immediately following the walk across the university stage, I embarked on a journey to southeast Asia, following my vagabonding inclinations. Although my trip was truncated for a host of insane reasons, I always knew, or hoped!, I would return to Asia. And now I am!
To label a five-year time span a "detour" may be a stretch to some people. But that's what these past years have been for me. I'd say I'm returning to my "Dream," but traveling and teaching abroad was never a "Dream." It was an absolute.
So, at the end of November 2009, I began interviewing for teaching positions in South Korea. By Christmas, I accepted a position and sent my transcripts, diplomas, health statement, and criminal background check to Korean Immigration. By late January, I interviewed with a Korean Consul and received my work visa. Now, I'm just waiting for my school to book my flight... I should be bound for SoKo mid-February!
And while this blog will most certainly log the intricacies of life in Korea, bizarre moments bound to happen on the road, and the random kindness of strangers, be prepared for a few miscellaneous musings that may, seemingly, have nothing to do with anything!
Cheers!
In fact, I began this journey five years ago when I graduated with a degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. Immediately following the walk across the university stage, I embarked on a journey to southeast Asia, following my vagabonding inclinations. Although my trip was truncated for a host of insane reasons, I always knew, or hoped!, I would return to Asia. And now I am!
To label a five-year time span a "detour" may be a stretch to some people. But that's what these past years have been for me. I'd say I'm returning to my "Dream," but traveling and teaching abroad was never a "Dream." It was an absolute.
So, at the end of November 2009, I began interviewing for teaching positions in South Korea. By Christmas, I accepted a position and sent my transcripts, diplomas, health statement, and criminal background check to Korean Immigration. By late January, I interviewed with a Korean Consul and received my work visa. Now, I'm just waiting for my school to book my flight... I should be bound for SoKo mid-February!
And while this blog will most certainly log the intricacies of life in Korea, bizarre moments bound to happen on the road, and the random kindness of strangers, be prepared for a few miscellaneous musings that may, seemingly, have nothing to do with anything!
Cheers!
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