Year 2 - Month 1

9:00 PM | 1 Comments

September began with quite a literal blur...
Like I mentioned in my last letter, I returned to school on the heels of a pink eye infection and stumbled through the week's lesson plans. I hadn't taken the time to prepare lessons before I left for vacation and out of haste, when I returned, I had mistakenly planned a lesson from the wrong book! It was a bumpy ride to say the least.

I had done my best to set up my new apartment and found myself constantly cycling between home and local superstores for miscellaneous items. When the weekend came, I was quite content to stay home on Saturday and attempt to out rest my fatigue. I met up with an old friend for dinner and considered that my "event" for the day. On Sunday, I returned to the small Baptist church I had been attending (SIBC) to meet up with old friends. The vast majority of folks who had attended the church last year had completed their teaching contracts and returned home. I greeted the family that had hosted the Sunday lunches/prayer group then spent the rest of the day lesson planning.

The second week of the month passed much like the first, save the fact that I now had a bicycle by which I could explore my new neighborhood. I don't think I had ridden a bike in at least 15 years or so and I found I enjoyed it as much as I did when I had Huffy bike. ^ ^

The second weekend I met up at an upscale buffet for a friend's birthday on Saturday night (and had a little incident with missing the last train home and wandering the streets after 12am looking for an ATM to get cab fare). The weekend was otherwise mild. The new express subway made it possible to visit Sarang Community Church, a friend in LA had recommended--(thanks Monica!)--since the previously 1hr 45min trip is now only 30mins. It's one of the larger Korean churches in the city and they hold three English services every Sunday. I enjoyed the service. It was interesting visiting a majority Korean church for a change...

After work, I took the time to do something I had been contemplating for a while...sign up for Chinese classes! Some of you may know about my self-study in Mandarin and my interest in China. (I'm actually sitting in a Beijing Starbucks as I write this.) Despite that, I have yet to take a Chinese class. One of the community centers in Seoul offers classes for only $10 each 3-month session!

While I was signing up, the community center volunteer noted my inability to fill out the form written in Korean and suggested I sign up for Korean classes that begin just before the Chinese ones. I tried to decline, considering I've taken three months of Korean and judging by my speaking ability, it isn't doing me much good. In the end, I agreed to the beginning class which means I'll be suffering through five chapters introducing the Korean alphabet again...*sigh* If I still can't fill out a basic questionnaire after this one, I quit! lol.

Since last year when my Pomeranian ran away in the States, I had gotten it into my head that I wanted to get another dog...in Korea. I had also made up my mind to adopt a rescue dog. I have never seen so many purebred dogs in a pound until I got here!

The second weekend of the month, I visited a rescue to meet dogs that were up for adoption but didn't "click" with any of them. Since I had a half day Thursday of the following week, I took it on myself to visit one of the largest Korean animal shelters in the area and see what dogs are available. An hour-and-a-half subway ride, a 30-min bus ride, a bunny trail down a partially gravel side road--which I'm pretty sure provided some very old people their entertainment for the day--I arrived at the shelter. The staff looked shocked to see me as none of them spoke English.

After visiting all the dogs, as heartbreaking as it was, I narrowed myself down to two, an adorable Yorkie mix who looked like a miniature Benji and a brown poodle that was so happy at a few moments out of her cage, she bounced around like a little lamb! I was assured a Seoul veterinarian would examine the two dogs and transfer them to his shop so that I wouldn't need to repeat the long trek to the shelter. The rest of the week, I kept thinking about the two little dogs and wondering which I would end up with.

On Saturday, I headed across town to the vet's office. I quickly discovered the cute, previously mild-mannered Yorkie mix was a little bully as he challenged every male dog he encountered! He refused to walk consistently on a least and barked at every other thing in sight. He was a great dog...for someone else!

The poodle was just as pleasant and even-tempered as she had been on first meeting. She adjusted to my walking style on leash after only a few minutes. The choice was easy. I named her Choco Peppero after the Korean candy sticks and made plans to bring her home the following Saturday after she was spayed.

With exams beginning the last full week of the month, time flew by quickly. The weekend brought a goodbye to another friend returning to the States after the end of her contract. Her employer had scheduled her departing flight just 12 hours after the end of her last working shift, so there wasn't much time for goodbyes! A group of us met up for some salsa dancing then headed off to a jjimjilbang (찜질방).

After a year in Korea, I still hadn't been to one of the public bath houses. Those of you know me well are probably familiar with my general distaste for public nakedness. It's not you. It's me. I find it a larger violation of my personal (visual) space than I'm generally willing to permit. In addition, given the Korean public-at-large's propensity for disregarding boundaries of personal space and staring, "get naked with staring, space-violating strangers" wasn't exactly on my 'Life List' (nor was "naked with friends.")

All that is to say, I was still wavering on the experience when we stepped on the jjimjilbang premises around 3am. (The baths are open 24 hours and people sleep over.) One of the other girls was a first-timer as well so we kept motivating each other to go through the experience.

To answer the big questions: yes, the bathing areas are single-sex; yes, children are permitted; no, they don't use chlorine; and no, I was neither the only black person nor the only non-Korean. (When we arrived, half the people were foreign.)

Fortunately, 3am isn't exactly prime bath time so the facility wasn't anything close to crowded. Fortunately, my mind slows down a bit after 2am so my thoughts about hygiene and closet lesbians and peeping toms couldn't fully materialize between my concerns over where I had last lain the two little hand towels that I was supposed to dry off with later.

It was an interesting experience. I can't say that I'm "a believer" now because I already know I'd get crazy in a space like that with more than 10 or so folks inside. And, only one person has to stare at me and/or say something inappropriate before I snap. With that in mind, I think I'll stop while I'm ahead. :D

After the jjimjilbang, everyone said their goodbyes, my friend headed off to the airport, and I went home to sleep. After a mere 3 hours, I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the vet where Peppero was waiting. WAY too much money later, me and my furry sidekick headed onto the subway to meet up with friends in Incheon for the Annual B-Boy competition. I had heard about the competition from some folks who went last year and were pretty impressed. The event featured dance crews from Europe, North America and Asia.

Keeping a dog in a carrier when she's been in a cage for at least a month is not a fun task. Getting to the park was quite a relief. Incheon has a "City Festival" going on through the end of the October. Vendors of all sorts are set up near the entrance to Incheon's Central Park. Peppero was quite a hit with little kids as she pranced by. She has a bouncy gait and thankfully isn't bothered by squeals of "mong mong!" or the rough sort of petting the 2-feet tall set tend to give. :)

When I finally reached the display area of the park, I was barred entry because of my sidekick! You can imagine the flash of emotions that rushed over me after just having gotten my dog and traveled over 1 hour by subway! The boy at the ticket counter did his best to communicate the reason with his limited English but in the end he walked me over to...the Pet Check.

Yes, boys and girls, the Pet Check is exactly like a Coat Check, sans coats. It was inside a small air-conditioned trailer with an attendant and cages for about 20 or so small dogs and the service is completely free! I was quite surprised, relieved, and disappointed---surprised by the fact that the city had been so thoughtful toward pet owners, relieved that I wouldn't have to miss the competition and disappointed that Peppero and I were being separated after a mere 2.5 hours together! With a heavy heart, I headed of to join my pals.

The competition was really cool. Most of you know how much I like dance (despite being a mediocre dancer myself) and these teams were insanely good! By the time I arrived, the competition was well into the final rounds. A Russian team, some guys from New York and a Japanese team were left.

The boys from New York had no chance against the Japanese team. Break dancing originated in New York but it doesn’t live there anymore! The NY team was a full head taller than their counterparts, a fact that severely undermined their ability to do the kind of precise acrobatic moves that have become standard fare.

The battle between the Russians and the Japanese was pure electricity. (vids here) Their styles were quite different and each seemed to up the ante at every turn. The Japanese guys ended up taking the title through questionable technique. Their dancing was superior but they also violated the team boundary line and were accidentally—-if you can call 3 incidences accidental—-dropping small hand towels at the end of their turns. It was a distraction at the least and at worst, a hazard for the other team who had to dance in the same space.

In between rounds, there were some top notch performances as well. A Korean break dance crew did an interpretive dance. (I know the words interpretive and break dance don’t typically go together but trust me, it was awesome!) A couple of guys from Europe did a weird / scary / cool Cirque-du-Soleil type piece that was amazing.

After the competition, I caught up with my buddies and convinced them to hang around for the fireworks / multimedia / water show that closes out each evening at during the ‘Incheon Festival’. It was definitely worth viewing. There were also pyrotechnics and what looked like human holograms projected onto streams of water. Cool stuff!

Afterwards, the 5 of us + dog squeezed into one taxi for the 30 minute drive home. Back in Seoul, we had some “king samgapsal” (barbequed pork) and Peppero enjoyed nibbling at the bones.

I spent Sunday morning convalescing at home. I was surprised to discover that Korean couriers not only deliver on Saturday (which was how I was woken up the previous day) but also Sunday! I received the last of a series of items to decorate my apartment: a rug and what I thought was going to be a couch. What I actually received on Sunday was four cushion covers!

I had previously been patting myself on the back for placing several orders on GMarket (Korea’s Amazon.com) by myself. I had received several items without a hitch and somehow managed to take phone calls in Korean confirming delivery. You can imagine my disappointment as I’m waiting for a cute little floor pillow 'couch set' to complete my living room décor and I receive a small square box!

I had misunderstood the item listing…the covers themselves where 70 Korean ‘dollars’…the actual cushions were an additional 50! I don’t know when I might have to move again and $120 worth of pillows doesn’t exactly sound like it'll have a good resale value!

Sunday evening, I met up with a couple of girlfriends for the Heritage Mass Choir’s monthly worship service.

[During one of the months I had neglected to write updates, a friend’s friend who was visiting from the States asked us if we’d seen the Korean choir “that sings black gospel.” Negative. I would definitely remember something like that!

So, being the Google Diva/’online stalker’ that I am, it didn’t take me very long to find them. I happened upon this video and emailed the guy who posted it. I asked where there church was and if the choir sang every Sunday. He responded the next day saying that they were all from different churches and got together once a month for a worship service. The next one would be that weekend. Score! What he hadn’t mentioned was that they were recording for their new album and DVD! My first experience with the Heritage Choir was pleasantly surreal. The seven of us who attended were all black Americans and they were quite happy to see us! lol.]

The Heritage Choir members definitely have some of the best voices in Korea. (vid here) So long as I’m in town, I won’t miss their service. It’s rare to see Koreans worship so freely since most of the churches here range from conservative to uber conservative. (Um yeah, not a wide range.)

After Sunday’s service, I was happy to pick up a copy of the new CD/DVD so I could look for me and my friends in the audience shots. (We’re in there! ^^)

On Monday, I tried to head off to work and Peppero was in a panic. They say dogs have the mental capacity of a two-year-old and having worked in a preschool, that sounds about right...the fact that she had food, water, a doggie bed and plenty of room to prance around meant NOTHING if she was going to be left alone forever—-as she perceived it anyway.

It wasn’t long before building management called my school--(I had missed the call to my cell)--and a third-hand message made it back to me via my primary co-teacher. I was on freak out status! [When I had mentioned to her in passing that I was getting a dog, she had said no pets were allowed in my building as per the lease (that I totally couldn’t read since it was in Korean). Peppero was already waiting for me at the vet's office at that point...oops!]

I was completely tense and prepping myself for a showdown with my building. But as with so many other things in Korea, the conclusion differed from my expectation. I stopped by my building office to check on another issue and was told, “Your dog was really loud. The neighbors were angry,” followed by a tsk tsk.

I apologized. Surprised at the laissez-faire response, I asked them to send my apologies to the neighbors and let them know that my dog wouldn’t be a problem after September 30. The manager took it in, nodded, and that was that.

I had forgotten I was in the land of “contract as guideline” rather than “contract as law.” Up until now, that fact had worked against me, but I’m glad this one worked in my favor. The first few days of October were Chuseok, Korea’s thanksgiving celebration. I had promised to solve the problem before then. I had a lot of planning to do...

Here’s the preview of October 1:
Taryn finishes a half day at school and leaves to the joyful sound of “Happy Chuseok” spoken in the halls. She meets a fellow teacher to make a clothing donation then dashes home to get Peppero to the vet. She has to complete a consultation on major surgery and be at Incheon International Airport by 345pm. It’s 115 and her clothes are still all over the place, as are her emotions...

Miss you guys. Talk to you soon.

Love and hugs,
-t.

Korea Reflections: a Prologue

8:52 PM | 2 Comments

I began this letter during my 14-hour flight from Atlanta to Seoul. While driving to the airport earlier today, I felt a mix of sadness and anticipation of the unknown very similar to my emotions upon leaving one year ago.

This time around, I have a nice apartment to look forward to and a clear sense of what is expected of me in the classroom. I’m fairly well acquainted with where to shop and hang out and have several friends returning to teach this year. While the year will inevitably be filled with surprises, I am very much in the position of a sophomore returning to a year at college.

I bring with me, in addition to overweight checked baggage, a stronger appreciation for home and the uniqueness of America’s cultural and political makeup. The Hampton Roads area of Virginia where I grew up is beautifully diverse with interracial families of every blend a growing norm. I appreciate the existence of 50 enormous states, (well, maybe 40 big ones), and the diverse geography and endless opportunity because of it. I’m not particularly fond of “state’s rights” mostly because of how ridiculously different laws—and eventually culture—become from state to state and keep places like Louisiana and Connecticut seeming like they’re in entirely different countries. Still, the strength of regionalism gives the US much of its cultural ‘flavor.’

In contrast, I have a better understanding of life in a small country and the limits such a situation impose. With regards to economic strength and general safety (crime rates), Korea is one of the top countries in the world and yet, there’s still a very palpable sense of limitation (some of it voluntary) in contrast to the showy excess of the middle class back home.

I hadn’t realized until this vacation home how fond Americans are of multiples and not just Jon & Kate Plus Eight. :) I can’t remember the last time I was bombarded with so many numerical signs imploring the logic of multiple purchases of the same thing: 5 for $15. 2 for $20. Buy one, get one free. Buy one, second one ½ off. I would be lying if I implied I were anything less than committed to the cult of multiples. (Naturally, the multi cult can be found in Korea as well but it tends to manifest itself in “sets” which are worth their own paragraph…some other time.) And stuff? This article gives a tiny bit of historical information on Americans’ love affair with storing stuff…just one more mindset I’m glad to say my Korea experience has helped me curb.

On an unrelated note: I am desperately envious of Korea’s bathroom stalls. Is there any legitimate reason to make eye contact with a perfect stranger while squatting over a public toilet? I think not. Yet this scenario is repeated 1000 times a minute all over America because bathroom stalls always have gaps in between their connecting pieces. The situation is so common, I neglect to take notice anymore. In fact, I’d be down right shocked to find a toilet stall in America that offers complete privacy as I most was when I first arrived in Korea. (A few of you may remember my momentous toilet photo from my first trip to Incheon airport. Not only did the door shut all the way, there was a platform to store personal items and a “courtesy bell” for those given to impolitely loud toilet usage. That’s what’s up!

My three weeks in the States went by WAY too fast. It took three days to get my mind back in American mode and even without trips to Connecticut or California, I felt I didn’t have enough time just to sit with people. I still regret how little time I spent in Nashville. There were a few folks I didn’t see at all. (And a few places I didn’t eat. lol) It’s hard to realize how many little roots you put down in a place until you up and leave it.

As I finish this letter, I’ve been back in Seoul for two weeks. The first was a “quarantine” week lest any of us foreign peoples bring Swine Flu back from our foreign homelands. I was SUPER stoked to have a week to set up my new apartment! I didn’t actually stay in my apartment but I mostly stayed in my new neighborhood. ;) As it turned out, I needed the week more than I would have liked…I came down with a nasty case of pink eye again. Unfortunately, this time around I had the light sensitivity of a vampire…not cool! I am thankful to say I’ve fully recovered and am back to my contacts-wearing self.

At some point, I’ll send out the “film festival booklet version” of the final four months of last year but I can’t promise too much since there’s a few interesting things on the horizon for the upcoming months already. :)

I’m praying that this year will be even better than last. I’m also praying for strategies to get through the winter season without the depression too much cold and too many hours of darkness so easily bring. I feel 80% sure that this will be my last year in Korea so I really want to spend my time wisely. I’m looking forward to what in the world else this experience will bring.

Love & Hugs,

-t.

Kickin' It Pinoy Style

3:11 PM | 0 Comments

Dear readers, remember that vacation I had WAY back at the beginning of the year? Well, here's Part I of the adventure…

Kicking It Pinoy Style

Your browser may not support display of this image.My trip to the Philippines began on an amusing note in Korea. After getting to the airport with enough time to spare, my friend and I proceeded to grab some breakfast at the nearest café to our gate. Unfortunately, the staff didn’t speak English very well and my friend was having difficulty translating “Can you toast my bagel?” Eventually, the cashier figured it out, then proceeded to take 15 minutes to get the thing toasted. I’ve worked at a commercial bakery before, 15 minutes is a crazy long toasting and in trying-to-catch-a-plane time 15 minutes is an eternity.

Too bad for us, we were flying Hong Kong based airline Cathay Pacific, the first airline I’ve encountered that lists the “board before” time in oversized numbers on their boarding pass. Let me break that down for you non-frequent fliers…every other airline I’ve ever flown lists the time planes begin boarding on the pass. That’s when you show up with a grimace on your face and wait your turn to get in line.

Those being the case, imagine our confusion when my friend and I arrived at the gate a mere 5 minutes after the time on our boarding pass. The plane was parked at the gate. How in the world did they get everyone on the plane so fast? I thought. We approached the check-in kiosk and attempted to board.

“We are finished boarding,” the stewardess stated in the unnaturally pleasant tone of voice all Asian airline stewardesses seem to master.

“But the pass says 740,” I protested.

“Yes. You should board before this time,” she replied with a smile. “Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

Obviously not.

It was at this moment a stout, uniformed Korean woman with walkie-talkie in hand approached. After exchanging staccatoed speech with the stewardess, she turned to us.

“Where were you? Why are you late?”

“We were right around the corner,” my friend responded.

“Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

“Why are we even having this conversation?” I said to her. Because I’m 30. And I didn’t pay several hundred dollars for a plane ticket in order to entertain inconsequential questions.

Cathay Pacific’s method guarantees that they will lay the smackdown on slowpokes. Show up before the time listed or else you too may miss your flight. While we didn’t react as badly as this woman, I kind of wish we did so I’d have more to write about. ;)

We came to the boarding area for our ‘replacement flight’ quite early. While we were lounging around, we were approached by a survey taker from the Korea Tourism Board. A bit after convincing the guy that yes, we live here, he took a seat next to my friend and tried to chat us up. By the time he dropped, “How old are you?”—a typical first-meeting question in Korea—I knew we were his break time entertainment. He plied us with the usual, “How do you like it here?” “Do you eat the food?” etc., then somehow, the conversation flipped to his interest in black American literature and he says that Roots is his favorite book.

Pause.

Naturally, we’re both thinking this is the new pickup line around town. (I mean, I don’t even know any black folks who say Roots is their favorite book.) Whether this was before or after he slipped in a comment about “cool Korean guys like me,” I don’t recall, but I was impressed dude knew his stuff. He was dropping titles like The Color Purple, Invisible Man, and political theorists like W.E.B. DuBuois and Malcom X. If he was gaming, he was on point. Unfortunately, there was no time to test him on the dance floor to see if he’d done ALL his homework. he he…

Soon it was time for us to board. He followed us to the gate and gave us each the Tourism Board key chains we would have gotten for completing the survey. Cute!

The Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong was pleasantly uneventful. They know how to bring it! Our flight was only 3 hours but we still got a tasty little meal along the way. Likewise, on the 2 hour flight from Hong Kong to Manila, we were fed remarkably edible food again. To think, back home they’re charging $7 for convenience store quality sandwiches when folks in Asia are getting piping hot meals in the time it takes to fly from Nashville to Washington, DC. *sigh*

Because we had missed our flight, we arrived at the Manila airport significantly later than we initially anticipated. Still, we made it through immigration without incident and having been forewarned, hopped into an "airport-approved" metered taxi.

Your browser may not support display of this image.Our host for the first night was a law student at De La Salle University in Malate, Manila. He was our couch surfing connection via my adventurous traveling companion. It’s only one night, I told myself before agreeing. And dear God, am I ever glad it was!

When my friend had told me some guy in Manila agreed to have us over I thought everything was gravy. No need to interrupt our other host for a few sleeping hours since we were headed off to Boracay island the next morning anyhow. My friend told me the guy’s profile mentioned he had a maid which I thought was superb. Not only would we 1) not have to stay alone with some random guy we met off the internet, 2) we wouldn’t have to worry about actually doing anything since household help was available, and 3) I also figured he must have a little money since he could afford a maid while he was still in school and all. Ha. Ha. And Ha.

Some of you may have heard me gripe about the size of my “apartment” in Seoul. In this case, the word “apartment” most certainly deserves quotation marks since my ENTIRE living space is the size of my bedroom in my last apartment and my last apartment was the smallest one I'd ever lived in. I only bring it up because this guy’s place was SMALLER than my place in Seoul.

Let that marinate before we continue.

Your browser may not support display of this image.So my friend and I are in our airport-approved taxi and the guy can’t find the building. We drive in a loop around the university on the street where the apartment building should be but after passing the same two Starbucks 3.5 times, we let him know we’ll get out and give it a walk. Now, for those of you who haven’t been to Malate, it’s not the sort of place that looks like you’d want to walk about haplessly. Think a random block in Queens, NY, Itaewon in Seoul, East Nashville, or Downtown Norfolk. Sure, other people are out doing their thing, but you don’t wanna be wandering around there with a piece of luggage and a face that says, “I’m not from here.”

But there the two of us were, doing just that. We rolled up to the neighborhood Starbucks and after a moment’s quandary, I volunteered to ask the nearest local to use their cellphone since there weren’t any payphones in sight. I chose a guy who appeared to be sitting alone, took a deep breath, and rolled myself and my little luggage over.

“Hi. Uh, could I use your cellphone?”

No response. This is the Philippines. I know you understand English dude!

“Why?”

Did he just say that?! Does he not see my luggage or does he really think I’m doing this for personal amusement? By this time, a couple of girls came to the table with lattés.

“We’re supposed to be staying with my friend but we can’t call him because our cell phones don’t work here…we live in Korea."

“Where does he live?” Clearly, this was this guy's late evening entertainment.

“In Cruz Towers,” my friend finally chimed in.

“Oh,” said one of the girls. “It’s right there.” Finally, someone with sense…although not enough to explain “right there” without further prodding.

After soliciting proper directions (and not getting to borrow a phone!) we began trodding a construction-ridden patch of sidewalk. After verifying our location with one of the security guards, we had arrived.

Now, imagine for a moment, a door opening to a narrow rectangular space about two arm widths wide and oh, 1.75 Toyota Camrys long. That’s what we were working with. And we were greeted with not two faces, but three! Dear God! At least the inauguration’s on, I thought. So, I suppose, counting Barack Obama on TV, we were greeted by four faces…

Our host invited us inside and introduced the two girls who were with him. The older was his maid and the younger, his girlfriend. I can’t really say he “showed us around” since it was WAY to small to have an “around” but he acquainted us with the space. He explained that the bed was for my friend and I. “I hope it’s ok,” he said. I assured him that it was. I was far more concerned about where he and the maid were sleeping and wondering when his girlfriend was gonna roll out since the room was clearly beyond capacity with two people in it.

Our host asked if we were hungry and despite our assurances that nothing more than a small bite to eat was even remotely necessary, he ordered the maid to cook us dinner...at 11:30 p.m. We managed to scarf down a few bites while we watched the bazillion people in Washington, DC cheering at the inauguration. The situation was surreal. I could hardly wrap my mind around the fact that I was watching one of the most historic moments in US history from thousands of miles away. The dreams of so many Americans were being realized through the first black president in a moment when I myself was fulfilling a personal dream of visiting the Philippines—major and minor moments all at once.

The answer to the girlfriend question became clear soon enough. After we had changed into pajamas, and climbed onto the bed, our host pulled out a sleeping mat from underneath the bed. His girlfriend started to make herself comfortable. Something moderately intelligible like, “Hope you don’t mind if she stays,” rolled out of his mouth. Actually, I’d much rather she didn’t but I’m not actually in a position to make demands at the moment…

Sometime after the maid finished washing the dishes and cleaning the small kitchen, we finally settled in to sleep around 2 a.m. Having watched President Obama be sworn in, I fell asleep in awe of history being made and the circumstances of my travel. I woke up to a new day.

Korea - Month 7

9:38 AM | 0 Comments

Korea - Month 7

After hitting the 6-month mark, I felt like a new recruit who had made it through Basic Training. March was the end of Winter Break and the start of a new school year. All my teacher friends were back in town from various jaunts around the globe and there was a general sense of, "If we made it through the first half, we can make it through this half." People had already begun to discuss whether or not they would renew contracts for another year.

My biggest concern at the beginning of March was not the new batch of freshmen we were about to require but turning the ripe (stale?) old age of 31! Can you say, "Was. Not. Looking. Forward. To. It."?

Actually, let me backtrack. I hadn't given much consideration to turning 31 at all. Some of you who've had the (mis)fortune(?) of being around me the last few years before I turned the corner into the non-refundable land of adulthood may recall my minor obsession with mentally preparing myself for the "BIG 3-OH" as I like to call it. I had been on a perpetual countdown since age 26. I truly believed that the worst thing that could happen to a person was to face the blank slate of adulthood consumed by a sense of only mediocre preparedness. What does that even mean...

Right. So, with four years of 30-preparedness under my belt, I got all dressed up, invited a few friends and threw myself a "BIG 3-OH" party. The party wasn't exactly "big" but the cake was yummy and I was surrounded by good friends. It was turning 30-years-old that helped me make the decision to 1) study film writing with Act One in Hollywood and 2) spend some time living overseas. All was well.

Then came 2009 and the year, 31. I guess this is what happens to girls who are obsessed with weddings who never give marriage a second thought...reality sticker shock! Like, you don't just have a wedding and "get" a husband, you have to be a wife. As much as I had no problem with being 30, rolling a 1 up behind that 3 adds a feeling of permanence I hadn't anticipated in the least. True, I never believed all this "30 is the new 20" foolishness and what-have-you---that's the same madness that has Madonna's old, wannabe tail rocking a leotard on the cover of her album when she should be raising the babies she shoulda had about a decade ago---but neither did I expect to ever be "one of those people" who dreaded aging. Ok, enough with the intro...

On my actual birthday (a Thursday), I enjoyed a few hand-selected snacks sent by my family and proudly put the birthday cards on my desk, which was a first. (I'm generally 'anti-personal affects' in my workspace. Furthermore, I typically don't care for cards. A few of you have heard me harp on this. $5 for a card? I'll take cash, thanks!) I was so shocked to see that my niece had written "Auntie Taryn" on her envelope. It was the first time I had ever seen her handwriting! I was definitely on old lady status when I felt tears form in my eyes as I opened it. After work, I kept things low-key and grabbed a coffee with a friend.

Through the powers of Facebook, I had set up a little event to celebrate the following Saturday and invited a few friends. A few of those friends invited a couple of friends and in the end, about 20 of us got together for dinner. I had intended to eat at a Western style bar/grill place called Uncle29 (no relation to "Uncle Tom", I assure you) but the friend coordinating that aspect of the evening got confused about the date and time. The night of, realizing we had a few more folks than originally anticipated, and no guarantees about seating, we headed over to a Turkish restaurant called Pasha. I had never been there but it was a great choice. Definitely grown and sexy ;) reasonably priced, and plenty of room for everyone.

After eating, we headed over to a bar lounge to eat the cute little birthday cake a couple of the guys had picked up. One of the coolest things about Korea is how seriously they take cakes out here! I mentioned Christmas cakes before but it's as if a really cute cake really is the perfect accessory to festive evening. (That's not to imply that they taste the way they look, or at least the way they look to an American, but the presentation is first class!) Each cake comes with it's own plastic knife and birthday candle which is just...perfect.

So, after eating my perfect cake, most of us headed out to a popular little night spot in Gangnam called NB (Noise Basement) which is supposedly owned by the founder of one of Korea's most popular record labels. It was crowded. Ridiculously crowded. Like, does-firecode-even-exist-out-here? crowded. Despite paying so much to get in, I refused to stay more than a 30 feet from an exit for longer than five minutes or so. In the end, a few of us ended up staying out until the subway started running again (530am). My friend Julie and I rode across town for some really yummy french toast then called it a 'morning' around 830 am. I hadn't pulled an all-nighter like that in...at least 10 years! (And comments like that are what remind me exactly how old I am...)

The week after my birthday, I met up with Bohee, one of the girls I befriended at L'abri. She's an undergrad at Yonsei University, fairly fluent in English AND French (geez, I feel like a slacker!), and a really sweet girl. We hadn't seen each other since January. Since she wasn't able to attend my birthday festivities, she brought me a little piece of cake to celebrate after dinner. So cute! It was quite tasty. We snacked at a student-run cafe near her university where they serve "Delicious" cookies. ; ) It was quite nice.

On to sticker shock...

Since I've been in Korea, I'd been wanting to go to one of the various language exchanges around Seoul. Typically, folks get together and chat over snacks and drinks. It's a good chance to meet people and if you have enough vocabulary, get a little language practice in. The weekend after my birthday, a friend and I decided to give it a try. We headed off to the exchange headed by Hana Cafe in Sinchon, an area situated near three major universities. Hana Cafe is pretty well developed with groups for English, Japanese, and Chinese for Korean speakers and a dedicated meeting space.

I hung around in the English language area for a bit then inquired about the Chinese group. After being shown to the meeting area, I was relieved to discover the leader spoke English since what little Mandarin vocabulary I know seemed to disappear the moment I was asked to introduce myself! Only six months in Korea and I'd quickly gone from 对, 对 to 네, 네. I choked out a pitiful attempt at introduction and was warmly welcomed by other folks who were there. After a bit, one of the coordinators forced us to pose for photos "for the website" again. (If I had a 1,000 won for every time I've been in a promo photo...) I excused myself shortly thereafter and bounced back down to the English language exchange.


 I was only sitting for a minute or two before a different coordinator pulled me aside and asked what I was doing "tomorrow". Probably sensing the cartoon question mark hovering above my forehead, he quickly followed up with, "Do you wanna be on TV?" Affirmative! My vanity rarely allows me to refuse an opportunity to feel important, how ever ridiculous it may be. Sweet! I thought. Korea goal #77 completed! Now if I could just find Daniel Henney...


After the language exchange, I joined some of the other folks for some "Round 2" snacks and beverages. I learned a few useful phrases like, "Do you want to die?!" and taught them a few of increasing intensity as well. Ah, the joys of sharing...

The next day, I was greeting two strangers--a cute little Japanese girl, a tall brown-haired boy--and a blond fellow who was in my teacher training back in August. Our driver was a youngish Korean girl who I assume was a production assistant for the TV station. The five of us hopped into her vehicle, a late-model white sedan designed for four. Our driver spoke virtually no English. The Japanese girl spoke little Korean and even less English! Fortunately, the brown-haired boy was some sort of Japanese/Korean Studies major, so he handled all the translating. After believing we were headed to a location somewhere in Seoul, we were totally surprised to discover we were on a one-and-half to two-hour drive deep into the surrounding province! Details, details...

We chattered away until we reached the city limits. By then, the monotony of the ride took its toll and we found ourselves drifting in and out of sleep. Somewhere along the way, we all happened to be awake again. Our driver explained that we were fairly near our destination. A short time after that revelation, we got into a car accident!

I remember seeing a car stopped in the fast lane. I remember bracing myself and I remember the driver screaming, throwing on the brakes, and running straight into the back of the "stopped" vehicle! When I saw the car, I was certain we were going to hit it, so I'm not sure why she didn't attempt to swerve. (Maybe she doesn't drive on the highway very often?)

At any rate, the cars were banged up pretty bad (as modern cars are known to do at the slightest bump) but there was no blood, no bruises. Naturally, we all suffered a bit of a shock but were terribly grateful to have been awake rather than sleeping at the time it occurred! Thank God. Because I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, I managed to sprain my thumb, my ankle and my knee from sliding into the back of the passenger's seat. Our driver was SO apologetic and nearly in tears. We each assured her we were well, endured the typical emergency staff Q&A, then transferred to a minivan that took us to our destination.

After enduring both surprise and shock, we were a little less than 'fresh' upon arrival. We had been told we were going to taste makkoli, Korean rice wine, and that we were. Our destination was a makkoli factory! We were greeted warmly upon arrival as the staff and videographer had been waiting for us and were obviously worried. After another round of assurances that everyone was fine---even the fellow that bumped his forehead had no bruise---we received a tour of the factory. With a little "reality TV" staging, we were taped as we greeted the factory owner and received a tour of the facilities. The owner was a vibrant middle-aged woman who had lived in New York City for some time and her English was quite excellent. Naturally, she was quite proud of the her creation and also curious to hear an outside perspective.

All in all, the videotaping lasted about two hours after which we were invited to snack on kimchi and handmade tofu while polishing off the fresh makkoli used during the shoot. The VJ asked each of us to write our names and ages on a piece of paper (for his records?) It was in that moment I got sticker shock. I wrote down my name then wrote 30 next to it. I wrote 30, not because I forgot about my birthday the week before---y'all old folks know that happens after a certain age---but because it was the first time I had to write my new age. It was the first time I was about to see a number higher than 30 next to my name. In just a matter of days, I had passed the point of no return. I had become The Man, become "anyone"...as in "Don't trust anyone over 30!" All these thoughts had brought me to that moment of panic in mere seconds. Likewise, I awkwardly attempted to right the wrong I had become.

"That's not right," I blurted. "I'm not 30." Oh, the idiocy... The VJ didn't speak much English but that wasn't beyond his understanding. "Actually, I'm one year older."

"It's ok," he answered and explained that our ages wouldn't appear on TV. I listened to the translation of his reply with relief as I sorted through my mini identity crisis in my mind. Before leaving, we were each handed a 2-liter case of makkoli and that was that. We were headed back to Seoul and the program segment was scheduled to air the following Friday. (You can watch it here!)

At the time, I hadn't realized my ankle was sprained so despite the accident, I agreed to meet my friend Julie in Gangnam once again for a night on the town. She had gotten on a VIP list for Club Eden, one of the more expensive night spots in town (30k won cover, cocktails starting at 25k won) and insisted that we not mope about on White Day, aka Valentine's Day part two. The place only warrants mentioning for two things: 1) How many beautiful / perfect-looking people there were there, 2) how for one brief moment, the vibe in the club reminded me quite a bit of church.

Let me explain.

I live in the westernmost neighborhood in Seoul. Go any further west, and you're out in the next province (county). My neighborhood is made up of common folks and a lot of young families. People of such constitution simply get dressed in the morning. They usually match, (but not always), don't spend a whole lot on clothes and typically choose functional shoes over super hot fashions. In truth, I have no complaints about it at all. Seeing as how American style basically equates to "underdressed" in Korea, I don't have to worry about standing out too much in my 'hood. The other side of the coin is Gangnam/Apgujeong. Some of the folks at Club Eden looked like they spend their lunch money on plastic surgery. (Apparently they spend a lot on lunch....)

At several points, the crowd in the club could've been mistaken for a casting call...just swanky enough, beautiful enough, similar--yet slightly different--enough to fill some fashion or film director's portfolio. For the most part, ladies and fellas were dressed in their finest and most flattering. The more expensive the better. Yes, people who wear shades indoors irk me, but when you pay that much for them, why not? I was clearly, unmistakably, out of my element which I suppose is how I ended up in 'sociologist mode' coming up with conclusion #2.

Club Eden, and places like it, are church for people who don't go to church. Now, depending on your church experiences, (or lack therof), this may require a great deal of explaining. So here goes...

Imagine with me a black box theater, bare with only a standard set of lights hanging from the ceiling. Add a slightly raised platform to serve as a stage. Voila! You're now in a "post-evangelical" or "emergent" church. Those of you in Nashville are like, "Oh yeah, I have been to one of those," or you're presently attending one. (New Song folks!) For those of you with the church frame of reference, imagine the lights on the side panels during worship. (Everyone else, think back to your high school musical and upgrade the light kit it by 5 - 10 years. Now, imagine the audience, jumping up into a spontaneous call for an ovation, and never sitting back down. Some people genuinely want to be standing and the rest are standing because everyone else is standing...) On the church reference, think of an Emergent church worship service...hands in the air, a few people who can't stop bouncing around. A few people who can't stop looking around at the people bouncing around. A couple sitting awkwardly in the corner trying to remember why they came...

And the music. In either case, it's guaranteed to be loud. One is more likely to have a drum kit than the other, but at any rate, the room's speakers will be put to full use. Everyone's attention is drawn to the source of the music. Even the distracted attendees can't help but glance toward it at some point or another. The actors, the worship leader...the DJ.

The DJ is trying to get the crowd hyped, trying to get them to participate in the experience he's presenting. He's highly visible up on the platform yet dwarfed by the influence the music asserts over his audience. And there they are, hands in the air, bouncing up and down--some in a hypnotic like state--expending energy with abandon, believing momentarily that whatever happened before this very moment, no longer matters. The energy in the room compels them to continue. They come, week after week, dressed in their finest and most flattering, because well, where else do they have to go? Where else should they devote their weekend spending money than some place that makes them feel they matter, if only for sake of affording to be there?

As to what worthwhile conclusions can be made of "Techno DJ as Worship Leader" I don't know. (Andy Hunter is the only guy I'm aware of who can legitimately double as both.) But the visual image of the club that night is seared into my mind as one of a common yearning yet to be fully articulated.

The following week, I had fully intended to participate in the Seoul Players' 24-Hour Theater festival. Quite similar to the 48-Hour Film Festival I participated in a couple of years back, participants are teamed up to write, direct and perform a play created within the 24-hour parameter of the production. Required genres, props and starting lines are assigned so the challenge is to be as creative as possible within the assigned limitations.

So, like I said, I fully intended to participate in the event. It's no big deal but I thought it would be good to write something and see it produced immediately since I hadn’t been doing much writing.

In the end, my "let's catch up" dinner with my friend Ruth went a bit longer than anticipated and I was a bit too tuckered out to take on a room of strangers--artistic ones at that. ; ) I thoroughly enjoyed my ginourmous plate of fish and chips instead.

The last weekend of the month, I attended Seoul Fashion Week. Since finding out that the ‘average joe’ or ‘jane’ could get tickets to shows last season, I put all my Seoul pals on alert and spread the word. I set up a group on Facebook and invited everybody I could think of to attend the events.

Even so, I didn’t have the stamina to go through the hassle of buying tickets in advance…since the ticket website was entirely in Korean. I had plans to attend shows on Saturday and Sunday. At the worst, if Saturday’s shows were sold out, I figured I’d pick up tickets for Sunday while I was there. No big deal. He he. Yeah, right.

Before I even leave my house to start the 1.5 hour train ride, I get a phone call from a friend saying that a friend’s friend went down to the event location and was told that all the shows were sold out…Saturday and Sunday. I hesitated for a bit but decided that since I’d put my face and name on an event that went out to 70 people or so and committed to pick up tickets for a couple of close friends, I really ought to haul across town and verify what was going on for myself.

When I arrived, I discovered that tickets were indeed sold out for Saturday night which the girls at the ticket window reiterated as they pointed to the sign taped to the glass. Naturally, I then inquired about buying tickets for Sunday at which point I was told that they weren’t “available.” Since ‘available’ and ‘sold out’ are two different things, I probed a bit more. After 2 or 3 minutes of playing Guess the Missing Word with the staff—their English was better than what little Korean I understand, but still left much to be desired—I was directed to someone a bit more fluent in the buyer’s area of the facility.


 This fellow, who was a bit of a toughie with a walkie-talkie and whatnot, told me that yes, tickets were still available for Sunday but that they would have to be purchased on Sunday…unless they were purchased online instead…but the online service wasn’t working. *sigh*

After 1.5 hours of three different trains, that was not what I wanted to hear.

While I was having ‘a moment’, I ran into none other but the Seoul Fashion Report author (Michael) making his rounds and taking photos of Fashion Week attendees. I told him about my little situation. He told me to hang with him for a bit then head back to the press room for some refreshments.

While chatting with one of his photo subjects, another black girl walked over. She was pretty, statuesque, and wearing the most perfect little black hat with a half veil. These were first (proper) introductions for all of us as she and Michael recognized one another from Facebook and she remembered my photo from there as well.

She explained to both of us that she had fallen into the good fortunate of a Buyer’s Pass. Korea is a society based on appearances and she certainly fit the part. I explained to her my ticketless state and she insisted I stick with her for the rest of the evening.

Along with another friend, we spent some down time in the Press Room then headed off to the last show of the day. I went from ticketless to VIP seats at Fashion Week for a second season in a row!


 The HaSangBeg show was a bit interesting, if more for the hype surrounding him than the fashion. A random celebrity (I couldn’t see) got mobbed before the show even began and someone else was mobbed at the end. The show also featured at least one of the members of the boy band Shinee for whom HaSangBeg is official designer.

On Sunday, a couple of girlfriends and I plodded out an early to pick up tickets. Unfortunately, “early” turned out to be so late, we weren’t able to make church AND lunch. As one might imagine, our desire for food was the winner in that contest…

In then end, even our plans suffered. We had lunch at Uncle 29 but by the time we finished and trucked it back to the fashion venue, we were 5 minutes late. Apparently, fashions shows started beginning on time at that very moment because we were not only locked out, the show had already started! When we entered the foyer, it was on the big screen. There is a first time for everything and unfortunately, it’s not always convenient…

In other firsts, I couldn’t get into the press room! As in, “No, we don’t care who you’re with, who you know, or that you were in here yesterday because we don’t understand what you’re telling us in English anyway…NO.” That was a bit embarrassing (? Frustrating? Deflating?) after the VIP treatment a mere 18 hours earlier. It was just one more thing to take in stride I guess.

I ended up enjoying one of the shows I had ‘standing’ tickets for even more than the one where I had VIP seating. The designer, Lee Doii, used a Brazilian theme. All of the outfits were glittery and colorful! Definitely the kind of stuff I could see myself wearing if the opportunity arose.

While chatting it up with some friends, we were interviewed by a reporter for Fashion Insight, a local news magazine. Initially she appeared to be curious about who we were and why we were there…then she whipped out a notebook! We were a multi-national/-ethnic brew at the moment so I imagine she was able to get whatever angle she was looking for. Again, moments like that are what major-metro life is all about!

The month of April ended with desperate hopes for some spring weather! We had gotten some hopeful glimpses but nothing near the high temperatures I’m accustomed to after so many years in the American South. Still, hopefulness is a good endnote for any month. ^__^

Love & Hugs,

-t.

Korea - Month 6

7:28 PM | 1 Comments

Herein lies the long delayed update on February 2009...

Korea - Month 6

February wasn’t nearly as eventful as March but it definitely foreshadowed positive changes on the horizon.

The first weekend of the month, I accepted an invitation to a birthday dinner of a fellow I had met at a mutual friend’s going away party. I partially accepted because everyone attending was 30 or over. It’s a rare weekend in Seoul when I’m not one of the oldest folks in my crew!

We met up at a little Thai-fusion restaurant for overpriced, mediocre food—but interesting company. Our host was Pakistani and had invited a mix of friends and coworkers: Koreans, other desis, a Chinese friend, another African American girl and myself. I was highly amused by an Indian American by-way-of Trinidad who initially told us his “ancestral homeland” was Brooklyn in a clipped “New Yawk” accent.

The idea of traveling an hour into town for dinner (or some other random activity) with relative strangers has become a bimonthly ritual it seems. It’s not something I wouldn’t have done back in the States. (Lunch in NYC B.Fugly ladies?) But it’s something I hadn’t done with any noticeable frequency. Part of my draw to life in one of the largest metro areas in the world is the opportunity to meet interesting people and have new experiences.

Still, with all the extra time on my hands, and so many friends having February as vacation time rather than January, the month seemed to drag on and on. On a positive note, I was pretty healthy. I made it back from the Philippines with only some minor peeling from light sunburn and was back to school for Winter Camp. My school doesn’t actually do overnight camps—thank God!—just three weeks of class sessions. For me, that meant a 90-minute class with 2nd graders (juniors) and a 1-hour with my 1st graders (sophomores) after which, I could leave school at 12:30 p.m. I had no complaints about that!

My winter camp classes were VERY small. About 12 – 15 girls had signed up for each class and eight was the most who ever showed up! Because of that, it was much easier to give the girls individual attention and use creative lesson plans that would be more difficult in a larger class setting. At the end of each week, the girls interviewed “a foreigner” using the vocabulary we had been learning in class. (Thanks to my sister Ashley, and friends Kanya and Bianca!) The last class of the session, I talked about popular American dances and taught the girls the dances of their choice. (Salsa and Cotton-Eyed Joe, even though I was rooting for the Electric Slide!)

For Valentine’s Day, I organized a ‘Friends Night Out.’ After enduring the unflinching assault on my singleness that is Christmas-in-Korea, I wasn’t going to sit idly by while Valentine’s Day made an attack. A group of us headed out to All American Diner—nothing like comfort food for…well, comfort—and a night of dancing at a nearby salsa/meringue bar.

[I should note that I was terribly disappointed at the lack of love I saw on V-Day. Perhaps it’s because some marketing genius divided the days of love into one for girls to give guys gifts (Feb. 14) and one for guys to return the favor (Mar. 14)?]

Despite our motley crew, the evening of dancing was fun. After brushing up on my basic steps via YouTube, I got to play expert to my less skilled friends. (a sad sight, I must admit…) Most of all, it was nice to proactively address a situation that could have been needlessly depressing with good friends and great food.

Since February was still quite cold, I had promised myself to get in a weekend of snowboarding at one of the bigger resorts before the season was over. At the same time, since my last boarding trip, I had been experiencing a little tinge of pain in my chest whenever I contracted the muscles in my back. Because of my track record with nasty spills, I thought it would be smart to check it out before throwing myself down a mountain again.

Since this was my first time traversing the Korean medical field alone, I travelled a bit out of my way to an “international clinic” at Yonsei, one of Korea’s best universities. It was also my first experience at a teaching hospital. I remember hearing stories from folks back in Nashville who’d been subjected to some of Vanderbilt’s less experienced medical students and always made it a point to avoid having my body used as a classroom. As with so many other experiences since I’ve moved to Seoul, I bit the bullet and went for it.

My two interns were very nice girls, cute and pleasant. Not at all jaded and bitter like one too many doctors I’ve had the misfortune of visiting in the past. Then again, they aren’t exactly doctors, yet either. lol. After asking me a random series of questions, several of which I’m sure weren’t on their standard questionnaire, (but hey, they were nice). I got the usual abdomen poking and it was suggested that I get an x-ray to determine if indeed, I had a fracture of some kind in my sternum (not my rib as I had supposed).

To cut to the chase—skipping the amusing conversation I had with the 24-year-old intern about how she married one of the instructors the year before (!) and her genuine disbelief that I didn’t have a boyfriend (lol, again?)—it was decided that I may indeed have a hairline fracture in my sternum but since the professor needed to verify the x-ray was in some professorish meeting, the girls are like, “Uh, just don’t cause any additional injury. Your results will be available on Monday.” *grrr* That was the end of my snowboard season. I just couldn’t convince myself that snowboarding on Saturday, results on Monday was a good plan. For the record, on Monday, I was told “everything’s fine.” Since I still have an occasional pang, I’m guessing that was the “everything’s-fine-‘cause-there’s-nothing-we-can-do” fine as opposed to “picture-of-perfect-health” fine since one’s sternum has to heal on its own.

On the last weekend of the month, a friend and I headed out to a book release party for the first volume of The Seoul Fashion Report, which was created by an acquaintance of mine, a well-known expat blogger in Korea. The event was interesting, not only because I ran into a former coworker’s high school friend there (Arika --> Oscar), but because of the assortment of people who came through the brunch. The Report is written in both Korean and English and the crowd was equally diverse including a couple of designers and models. As it so happened, in such a small space, a Korean fellow joined my friend and I at our table. When we finally exchanged names, I discovered we had been intending to meet for a while!

He had read my short script for Chocolate Kimchi when it was forwarded to him by his friend (author of the Report) and had sent me fabulously thorough notes. Seriously. I definitely owed him coffee considering that we had never met. So there we were as “fate” would have it, finally sitting across the table from each other.

We talked briefly about his time as an English teacher through the Fulbright program, his graduate studies in film at Columbia University, and his current work at a local film production company in Seoul. We shared the frustrations of working writers who aren’t yet—for one reason or another—working on our “own stuff” and what that “stuff” might be when it comes to fruition. All in all, a fabulous 2.5-hour chat that my friend Julie had to sit through. I don’t feel too bad. Who doesn’t like to hear people talk about the film industry? The less you know, the more glamorous it is! (Also, for those in the know, he was 1st AD on this independent desi flick.)

Speaking of glamour, February was the first month the “economic crisis” really threatened to put a cramp in my style. Not only had the exchange rate reached PAINFUL record highs, prices on the most random things began to creep higher. Most probably at detriment to my health, I had gotten in the habit of buying a white bread and fried/scrambled egg sandwich with honey mustard Monday through Friday from a street vendor on my way to work. I would stop by a street vendor near the subway and pick one up for 1000 won (which is pretty much $1 in Korean currency). One sleepy morning on my way to Happy Tummy Land, I stumbled upon a sign that read 토스트 (toast) 1200!

Nooo! I thought. That’s two extra coins in my pocket. That’s a hassle. That’s 5 sandwiches for the price of 6!!! And this, from the “toast” ajumma? She’s just as kind as can be! How could she do this to me? I wondered. Yet for many weeks, I had been wondering how in the world she was making a living off $1 sandwiches in the first place.

Should it then have been any great surprise when my hair salon tried to up their price by 10,000 won? Hair salons (at least ones that cater to black clientele) are notorious for randomized pricing. Walk in when the hair dresser is low on rent money and your price might be a little more than you had budgeted. Is your hair longer than average? It’ll cost you. Shorter than average? That might be extra too!

Regardless, I was royally pissed when a stylist (and I use that word loosely) at the salon I’ve been going to since I moved here quoted me 70,000 for a service that I had been paying 60,000 for and other people I know only pay 50,000 for! When I asked why the price was higher, she said “because of the exchange rate” but if I paid in American dollars it would only be $50. WTH?!? I don’t even get paid in American dollars. How the heck am I supposed to pay her in American dollars? After telling her that was crazy because I get paid in won, I paid with my visa card and posted about my experience online. Passive-aggressive perhaps, but what’s done is done!

Anyhoo, my month ended with an attack of “acute sinitus”. Had I not googled it, I would’ve thought the doctor made it up. Basically, they should just call it “Attack Sinuses” because your sinuses attack the rest of your upper body by making your throat itch, sending thick snot out of your nose, and trying to choke you to death in your sleep. NOT COOL. Fortunately, the worst of it hit after Winter Camp was finished and I had no more public speaking to do. I was able to visit an English speaking ear-nose-throat specialist in my neighborhood who was remarkably kind about sticking two different foreign objects up my nostrils each of the three times I had to visit him.

Despite my inability to breath and/or speak properly, I managed to sign up for (relatively) free Korean classes which—due to overcrowding—I would begin in April rather than March. Still, with no more 11-hour school days in sight, the idea of participating in a regularly scheduled extracurricular activity, regardless of start date, was cause for happy thoughts. I would be turning 31 next month but at least I’d have something to look forward to! :D

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