Showing posts with label life in korea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life in korea. Show all posts

Year 2 - Month 2...October 1st

1:32 AM | 4 Comments

Long time, no email! Besides all the distractions the end of the semester / end of the year can bring, I got a little too detailed with my recollections of October. That being the case, this entire email is only my recollection of October 1st and it's quite a doozy. Still, the best is yet to come...

OCTOBER 1ST

As I alluded in my last letter, October started with a bang.

October 2 – 4 was Korea’s thanksgiving holiday known as Chuseok. Because of that, I had a 4-day weekend. Since China is pretty high on my “Must See” list and I now have a friend there, (met him when he was studying in Seoul last year), I figured October was the perfect time. So I’ve been told, Beijing is even colder than Seoul during winter and there was no way I was trying to find out first hand! So October, (or summer vacation) was my only choice and summer seemed too long a wait.

October 1 was the last day of exams for our girls which meant a much welcomed half-day! After school, I met up with another teacher to donate a couple of bags of unneeded clothing that had made the journey from my old place to the new one. We chatted about our holiday plans, she showed me a spot in our neighborhood to get eyelash extensions (more on that in the next letter) and wished me safe travel.

Next on my agenda, was a task I wasn’t looking forward to. After promising my building management that my dog Peppero would no longer “be a problem” I was messaging/texting half the people I knew in Seoul for advice. Another dog owner suggested debarking. “You could get that awful surgery they did to my dog,” were her exact words. Do note the words “awful” and “they.” Her dog was also a rescue but the culpability was not her own. She had rescued the poor creature from “them.”

When visiting the animal rescue, I had happened across the most adorable little Maltese. When a volunteer and I approached his cage for a little playtime, we appeared to be convulsing. His little head was bobbing back and his torso shook ever so slightly. “Aww, he’s scared,” she said but after watching for a few more seconds, I realized, “He’s barking.” We both watched him closely. His little body made all the motions but there was absolutely no sound. It was pretty pitiful. After taking him out of his cage, he proved to be quite the little yapper…non-stop head bobbing! As odd as it was, I resolved in my mind that it was a better such a dog endure the indignity of being voiceless rather than be sent down “the long walk through the one way door” (as it was referred to in Lady and the Tramp).

Peppero on the other hand, is not “such a dog.” I had chosen her from over 100 dogs at the shelter precisely because she was so dang quiet but still playful! I had never heard her bark. (Even when she got her shots, the technician mentioned he couldn’t believe she didn’t yelp!)

The thought of debarking a dog that didn’t even bark seemed a whole range of words from unfair to cruel. In the end, I had only 30 minutes to make a decision.

I headed off to the vets office with Peppero in hand (ok, bag). Fortunately, the nearest vet and a couple of his staff members speak basic English (although I’m not sure how ‘basic’ the word tracheotomy is! Gotta love Asia…) The vet looked Peppero over. He noted her stitches from spaying appeared to be healing nicely. He explained the debarking procedure was pretty standardized outpatient work that would only take 10 minutes. “We will cut the vocal chords,” he said. I’m pretty sure my face glazed over at that point. I had just had my dog’s uterus removed and we’re gonna slit her throat…great. I was feeling like a great big jerk. He assured me that the procedure was the only guarantee since she was howling rather than barking and howling can’t be stopped with a training collar the way barking can. “In Korea, it is normal,” he said and gave me a little pep talk about the necessities of such operations while living in close quarters. He told me there would be no blood and at that point, I felt I had no choice. Too many things, (my afternoon flight, for instance), depended on a quick resolution. I arranged for surgery, stitch removal, bathing/grooming and four days of boarding. After pre-paying (!), I ran home to finish packing and wash my hair.

I had already limited myself to three outfits for the weekend and as a sufferer of ‘Chronic Over-packing Disorder,’ I was pretty proud of myself. Three outfits and only two pairs of shoes was a veritable tour de force. I consoled myself with the thought of additional shopping to make up the shortfall. ^^ All that was left before departure was the little issue of washing my hair. Unfortunately, this must be conducted with consistent attention to established ritual.

My hair is sometimes fragile and Korea’s hard water has done it no favors. Shampoo must be followed with by a deep conditioner, then leave-in conditioners, and a silicone-based smoother, (yes, plural), one of which has to be activated by heat (blow drying). On the best of days, I can get it done in 1.5 hours. If I take my time, more like two. If I flat iron it…add an hour…Knowing that I’d neither have the time or the tools to undertake the process on (yet another) foreign soil, I determined to get it done before my flight.

When I finally left my apartment for the airport, I had a partially damp head of hair, about 1-and-a-half hours before boarding and a 30-minute ride to the airport. Things were looking…impossible.

I was absolutely torn…express bus, subway or taxi? I stood at the curb outside my apartment running scenario after scenario through my head. I was paralyzed by the possibilities, none of which were sure. I opted for a taxi AND the express bus. I was too jittery to fuss with the subway and figured the bus would save me some cash for the latter part of the trip. My taxi got caught in traffic, of course! The 15-minute drive to the express bus station went more like 20 minutes and the extra moments felt like an eternity. I did some unnecessary walking while struggling to find right waiting area at the bus depot and by the time the bus pulled up, I was ready to collapse into one of the few remaining seats and relax.

Fortunately the 30-minute ride went without a hitch. After arriving at the airport, I bulldozed my way down the aisle past the other passengers and plowed into the expanse that is Inchon International. After a moment’s hesitation, I accosted an airline associate to ask where the Air China desk was.

When I got to the desk, the four airline reps chatted playfully with each other like they were on break. I got directly in front of the counter and said, “Excuse me,” then received a "do you need something?" glance from one of the girls—not the face I want to see at that moment.

“I need to check in for the 545,” I blurted. “It’s been delayed. You should have come earlier. Normally our desk closes at 430,” Uh, thanks for the lecture. “Can I make it?” “It’s not boarding until 630.” “Ok, thanks.”

My mind was so frenzied that while her answer was clearly a “yes,” my brain hadn’t yet absorbed how much time I had left (about 1.5 hours until boarding). What I did know was that I wanted very much to get settled in near my departure gate and unwind. As lightly as I believed I had packed, my luggage was deemed too heavy for carry-on. I relinquished my bag and proceeded to the security gate with the very sensible plan to grab some food and hit an ATM when I got to my departure concourse.

As par the course for Inchon Airport, I got through security pretty quickly. I eagerly hopped on the shuttle to the international departure concourse not knowing I might as well have taken a ride on Willy Wonka’s paddle boat. First stop, Lotteria, a fast food join dedicated to Asian-flavored McDonaldization of food. They have these French fries in a bag with your choice of cheese, onion, or garlic flowered powder. Totally disgusting—totally addictive. I was in just the mood for a dose.

As I headed to the counter to order, I noticed a few stickers plastered over several menu items. The little kids working there did their best to explain to me in their best English that yes, there really aren’t any french fries…or onion rings…or the #3 combos. At this point, I had to will my mind to stop thinking because NOTHING that came to mind at that moment was “noble or pure or lovely.” A burger joint without fries?! It was Candid Camera without the laugh track.

At a loss for what to eat, decided to tackle task #2, get some cash to exchange when I get to Beijing. I stopped by a money exchange window run by my bank and asked to get some money. “Can I use my card to get some money?” “No. You can’t do that.” Uh, ok. Just another disappointment among many… “Ok. Where’s an ATM?” “There’s no ATM here.” Wow…just wow. “There’s no ATM here? Is there one somewhere else? Where can I get money?” “There’s no ATM in this area.” “Wait? Like this whole concourse? The international area?” “Yes. There is no ATM.”

OH MY GOD.

I left the counter and did everything short of blanking out to keep myself from snapping. (The bulletproof glass is there for a reason!) I checked the concourse map to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. 업서요. Nothing. Nada. I decided to head back to the front of the airport.

A few things you should know to understand the foolishness that soon occurred: I had 3,000 won in my purse…AKA $3. Korean debit/ATM cards issued to “foreigners” generally do not work overseas. It’s been covered here, here, and here. (We can’t get bank loans either.) I have two Korean bank accounts, one I use for daily expenses—it’s where my employer puts my paycheck—and another that I use for savings and to send money to the US. For some reason or another, the debit card for my second account will work overseas but the first—the money pot—doesn’t.

I had no french fries, no money, and now, no time. I jumped into a nearby elevator and headed back downstairs the way I had come. When I got downstairs and attempted to wait for the shuttle, an airport employee intercepted me. I don’t remember what he said, but he did everything short of shove me back in the elevator!

I told him that I needed to get to an ATM. He told me I couldn’t leave. I told him I live in Korea. I showed him my resident ID. He insisted that I go back upstairs to the information desk. I was between a rock and a hard place, tears and explosion. I went back upstairs and found the information desk. It was the least informational moment of my day. Let the meltdown begin! I had images of an impoverished self eating ramen all weekend or even worse—not shopping! God why?!

I moseyed on over to the info desk and explained to the staff member so beautifully attired in her pinkish hanbok that I needed to go back to the front of the airport and use an ATM. *blank stare* “You can’t leave this area.” Riiiiiight. That’s “Scenario A” and I’m trynna make a move to “Scenario B.”

“I don’t have any money. I need to get some money.” “But you can’t leave this area.” “I live here.” I pulled out my Resident ID. “I live here and I need to go to an ATM. There are no ATMs here.” Naturally, a staff member nearby wanted in on the action.

“Don’t you have a credit card?” he asked with a sliver of mock innocence mixed with incredulity. And I’m thinking, what are you, the anti-Dave Ramsey?!

I went into my briefest explanation of Korean’s banking restrictions on foreign nationals and the fact that I had tested my debit card in The Philippines previously. The blood in veins was rising to my neck and I was milliseconds away from becoming “that” person who’s talking a little too loud and a little to forcefully NOT to be taken away by security.

When the staff finally understood what I was saying, (or realized I wasn’t backing down…not sure which), the hanbok lady told me I might miss my flight. “I don’t care. I’m not going without any money,” I blurted as I held back hysterical tears.

In my peripheral vision, I could see a clock indicating there was one hour before my flight’s departure. I called the friend with whom I’d missed my Philippine flight. “What is it with you and airports?” she asked. I still don’t know the answer to that one. lol.

Fast forward 15 minutes and “someone” still hasn’t arrived. I’m as antsy as can be. I inquire and am assured “the person is coming.” I figure the airport has some super secret passage ways (in addition to the speedy shuttle train) that can get me where I need to go. Another five minutes slip by before a Korean Air staffer arrives in her impeccable uniform. [The Korean Air Girls (KAG) are always impeccable.]

The Information staff briefs her. I glance at the clock and tell the KAG my flight leaves at 630. “Will we be able to make it?” In answer, she says, “Come on,” and breaks into a jog toward the elevator. I thanked her for escorting me and we proceeded in silence.

When we reached the next concourse, the KAG broke out the long-distance marathon pace. In heels. In heels! In addition to the guilt I felt at putting someone else through an airport sprint fest, I felt terribly inadequate as a woman. I had on sneakers and could barely keep up. Did I mention Korean girls don’t sweat? They don’t. AND their hair always stays in place. Crazy.

So there I am, my new dog about to undergo the knife, I’ve got $3 in my pocket and I’m chasing the embodiment of picture-perfect femininity through the airport in pursuit of a relaxing weekend. What’s a girl to do? I used my cellphone to make a call to Beijing while running across those George Jetson escalator floor thingies.

“Robert? I dunno if I’m gonna make my flight.” “Hello? Where are you?” “Running through the airport.” It was very much like the scene in Home Alone right before the “KEVIN” moment where the family is running with complete abandon oblivious to what they’re leaving behind.

Somewhere mid-stride—was it Concourse A, B, C, or D?—I had the realization that this was only a four day weekend and if I made the plane I’d be eating dinner in Beijing. If I didn’t, I’d have lost my hostel reservation for the weekend, half-a-day’s vacation, AND have to hightail it 45 minutes back to my apartment. Then, lo and behold—was it the voice of God?—the light bulb above my head turned on…you have money in your American account. (DUH!) The resolve to continue my cross-airport marathon diminished faster than the fig tree on the road to Bethany. O…M…G…

As I was rolling the details over in my mind, the KAG slowed her roll and turned to me. “You will not be able to take your flight.” I battered her with a quick succession of questions: “What time is it? When’s the next flight? How far are we from the ATM?” I don’t think she had formed the answers before I blurted out, “I wanna go back.” Despite her impeccable KAG customer service training, her face said she hoped I was joking. “I wanna take my flight! I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath—God knows what she was thinking! lol—and off we went.

We RAN all the way back to the international wing of the airport which was more exercise than I’d had in months…no doubt, scaring a few people as we blew by. Naturally, as one would expect in a situation where time is of the essence, my plane was parked at the very last gate of the hall. By the time the gate was in sight, I had a side cramp, was wheezing and breaking a nasty sweat! The KAG showed no physical signs of distress other than her perfectly-formed hair bow taking a slight dip.

I made the flight by the sheer skin of my teeth. I was the last passenger and presumably looked like the poster child for swine flu with a clearly above-normal temperature and a mucus-laden cough. I wouldn’t have wanted to sit next to me! Fortunately, my nearest seatmate knocked out pretty early so I didn’t have to feel guilty.

*****

My two-hour flight went without a hitch. Beijing is an hour behind Seoul so I gained some time as well.^^ My buddy Robert (Zhengyu) was darling enough to come all the way across town to meet me. The Beijing airport is ginormous. I always say Inchon Airport is big ‘for no reason’ and Beijing is that plus one! I was really glad I didn’t have to navigate it alone. As it so happened, my arrival date coincided with the "democratic dictatorship's" celebration of 60 years of glorious rule, as it were.

If you watched the Olympics last summer, you already know, China does it big. Every TV at the airport was tuned to coverage of the parade and performances in Tiananmen Square. Even on TV, the enormity of the production was apparent. I was only able to catch a few glimpses on my way out of the airport.

It took close to an hour to reach Robert’s neighborhood. We took an express train then two subway trains. He lives in a nice area of town full of new residential and retail developments. Despite missing the big parade, on the way to dinner, we were able to catch a few fireworks in the distance. It was a nice touch to my first night in China. We stopped at a small family-owned spot and got a really amazing plate of vegetables and another of tenderized seasoned beef. YUMMY! It was nice to eat something different that tasted so good. ^^

One of Robert’s roommates was gone for the weekend, so I accepted his offer to crash at their place. His other roommate was a Russian girl who spoke more Chinese than English. She was nice but naturally, we couldn’t talk too much. I had a comfy bunk laden with extra bedding from Robert’s brief stint as a hostel owner (before "democratic dictatorship" intervention on his location). I contemplated how many ‘toursity’ things I could fit in the next four days, then fell into a much earned sleep.

To be continued...

Miss you guys! Love & Hugs. ^__^

-t.

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.

Korea - Month 7

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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.

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