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 *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... :)

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
http://www.thedailyshow.com/
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

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.

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!

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!

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. :)

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).