Mmmm. My Swedish friend Sanna helped us make these – yes, the ones in the picture! Read more about my cooking adventures under "Cooking."
Cairo, Egypt.
My family lived in Cairo for three years. I was in college, so my time consisted of 2-3 month chunks (got to love those long university vacations). Click to read about my Egyptian adventures
Strandvägen, Stockholm, Sweden.
My home for a year and a half. Beautiful, clean, and cold. You can read about my time in Sweden under "Other Places."
Umbrellas in Seoul
My first weekend in Korea was a rainy one. Vendors on the street sold cute umbrellas for a few thousand won (a few dollars), and I quickly joined the masses in purchasing one. Click here to read about the rest of my weekend.
Northampton, MA
I'm so excited to study at Smith College for a year.
You know that moment when you go to Google something and it starts suggesting random goofy things and you completely forget what it was you were trying to search for and decide to take a bunch of screen shots of different combinations of Google suggestions instead? Yeah, that one. Well if you want to avoid that moment, I suggest refraining from typing in questiony search terms, especially ones like "is it ok to..."
Here are the results of a few different searches on Google.kr. I'm not sure if the searches are different in other countries, but I imagine they are.
Apparently there are a lot of concerned pregnant zumbaers.
My co-teacher has decided to extend her duties to include acting as my personal PR rep. - her latest mission has been cultivating an aura of mystery around me. Allow me to explain.
I'm at school for 40 hours a week, from 8:30-4:30. I teach 23 lessons a week (40 minutes each). This means that over half of my time is free for lesson planning and, more often, desk-warming -- a term we use for being paid to sit at our desks and - you know - look pretty. (Or dishevelled as the case may be.)
20+ hours of free time has provided me with excellent opportunities to chat with friends/family, read articles, blog, and generally allow my soul to be sucked online. In spite of the enormous productivity of this spare time, I welcome any break from the glowing portal of information. Which means when my kids come to socialize with me after school, I'm always receptive to their goofy attempts at interaction.
For example: yesterday I was perfectly willing to let them "interview me." Which, as it turns out, means recording a minute and a half of my reaction to a tinny version Gangnam Style on one of their cell phones. Even if I still liked Gangnam Style (and indeed I still wonder about how it would feel to be one of the yoga girls on that video...like what are they eating for breakfast now? Is it a point of pride to have been in that scene? Do they hide it from their conservative grandparents?), a cell phone is not the ideal medium to share it. Being the culturally sensitive person that I am, I smiled swayed my shoulders a bit as Psy shared his thoughts.
A word on Gangnam Style: Yes, I've heard it. Thank you, American friends, for sharing it with me, emailing it to me, posting it on my wall. I understand your concern that it might not be popular in Korea and that I am somehow missing out on America's obsession with my faux hometown. Trust me, I've heard it. And thank you, Korean students, for your concern that after threemonthsofithasbeenplayingnonstopeverywhere I might have somehow missed Psy or his charming horse dance. I have, in fact, not missed these things.
Proof? Here:
Scheduling appointments with Stewart Teacher
Yesterday, as I sat blogging during my freetime, two fifth grade girls came to the classroom door. SH went to the door and spoke with them quietly, and then called to me across the classroom.
"They want to talk to you."
I straightened up and adjusted my hair for the possibility of a third cellphone video interview. Actually, that's not true. I was zoned in on my typing, and nodded or mumbled something affirmative, until SH said "I don't want for them to come in."
Deciding not to mess with her power play, I headed to the door.
"$#%#$ee #$%#$%uh %$*ee," the students said excitedly. I smiled and shrugged.
"They want to play with you," SH translated.
I looked at her, a bit confused. They generally just came in and struck up stunted conversations and games with hand movements.
She read the question in my eyes. "I told them they cannot come without an appointment. Do you want to play with them?"
Cool. I'm important. "Sure." I said.
"When?"
"Any time."
This statement did not aid the aura of mystery that she was trying to cultivate. She looked at me, and her eyeballs told me to try again.
"Uh. How about Wednesday?" I have no classes this Wednesday. SH knows this.
Some of my 5th graders
"What time?"
"Any time." Eyeballs.
"How about 3:30?"
"That's great."
"$#*&&ee *#$&uh #$%ee!" the students were jabbering again.
"What game will you play?" SH asked. "I don't want you to play running game." (Last week we played dodgeball in the classroom. Fair enough."
The kids butted in. "#$%*(ee $%*uh $^*ee Mario!"
"They want to play Mario," she translated. Give me some credit SH.
"You do?" I asked.
They squealed.
I thought about it. All of the Mario games were full of English vocab questions.
"You want to play an English game?"
"#@(*! Yonga (*$#?" she translated.
"NE! NE!" (this means "yes" in Korean, and it actually sounds like "nay" but I can't bring myself to type it like that.)
"OK. We will play Mario game." This was me talking. My English abilities tend to try to meet SH in the middle.
As we walked back to our desks, SH mentioned again that we are very busy. "I have a lot of free time," I replied. Which is probably not something I should admit, but she has yet to give me busywork. "Yes. But I am very busy."
So, yes. I am now available by appointment only. Also, apparently some of my kids want to learn English in their free time.
**
SH sometimes talks to herself in English, which is about the most confusing thing she could possibly do.
It seems pretty natural for me to assume that the things she subconciously mutters would be in her language, and the things she wants to share would be in ours. Ours. We're a beautiful couple.
This Saturday, I went with a group of friends to Everland, South Korea's largest theme park (with a high annual attendance, ranked at 13th in the world). It's a mix between Sea World, Knott's Scary Farm and Disneyland -- with a zoo, water park, kid's rides, animal show, and two large rollercoasters. Oh, and three dollar churros. Everland also has an American Adventure section, complete with a flashing disco area and walls with old US movie posters, as well as the only burger place in the park. (Which was a cleverly disguised Lotteria. Sneaky Korea, sneaky.)
Everland (which unfortunately makes me think MJ's ranch before Peter Pan ) is a mad crazy crowdedlikeastreetinathirdworldcountry place to be on a Saturday or a holiday. We went on a Saturday. This means that more than half of our time was spent standing in lines. Actually the ratio was probably much worse - 2 hours in line to 2 minutes on a ride - but I don't want to think about that.
Asrune and Steve pretending to be happy
We traveled to Everland from Geumchon, and it took us about three hours to navigate trains and buses. The day after I returned, I told a Korean friend about our adventures and she told me there is a daily direct bus from Ilsan that takes an hour and a half.
Life advice: Always consult with a local before embarking on a road trip.
Some of my favorite photos:
I took this across a crowd, but apparently they noticed.
This is what the inside of my brain looks like.
Bunny ears abounded. Yes, all Korean children are this cute.
He blew at bubbles for 15 minutes.
Evening Everland haunted parade.
Everland gets Halloweenified during October.
I love these girls so muchos.
This makes me laugh. I will one day convince a man to match me down to the rips in our jeans.
Over the last seven months of teaching in Korea, I've had to teach some strange words and sentences to my students. At the beginning of each lesson, we listen and repeat and memorize the vocabulary and phrases, which means that my students have committed some really odd things to heart.
This includes phrases like "I'm going to go inline skating" and "What is this?" "It's a sensor."
One of my favorites was the video dialogue about the "house of the future" in which the characters exclaim: "Look! The robot is cooking." "What a surprise!" I honestly had more of a problem with forcing my kids to memorize "What a surprise!" than "Look, the robot is cooking!" If there was a situation in which a robot was cooking, I can imagine someone might actually use that sentence. But I cannot picture anyone I know using the phrase "What a surprise!" To add insult to injury, the actors in the video spoke this phrase in the dullest, least whatasurprised monotone possible.
I can only assume that someone was trying to directly translate a Korean phrase for being surprised - like "Quelle suprise!" in French, and they didn't want to say "Wow".
My plan for this post was to come up with a list of the funky things I've had to teach - including conversations about appearances "He has curly hair and a big nose", which, in the video are accompanied by characters emitting red hearts from their eyes. So I asked my friends to add some of their bizarre curriculum to the list. And I suddenly felt very, very good about my curriculum. Here are the samples they gave me (these are mostly from my friend Asrune who has a great blog.)
I didn't know they had it this bad.
List of words/phrases my friends and I have had to teach in Korea
- "We will see a future house." and "I go to school on foot."
- "The doughnut shop of sweet is next to the book gallery."
- "We're going to have a Halloween party. Don't forget to carve a Jack-o-Lantern!" "Would you like to come to a snack party?"
- "Don't use the elevator, use the stairs. The elevator is for old and weak people."
-"Do you want the king of steaks or the super sweet pizza?" (To be fair, the pizza here tends to have sweet sauce.)
"Today is Arbor day. What day is your birthday?"
-"Don't run! Because they're wet and slippery!" (No explanation as to who are wet and slippery here.)
-"Let's make a happy school"
"I want to clean the windows" (Chapter title)
" I want to play and have dinner with you."
"Be careful! Owls eat snakes and snakes eat grasshoppers."
-Student 1: "You are very strong." Student 2: "Of course, I am stronger than you."
- "Who's calling please? This is David. Lucy and I will have a badminton party. Can you join us?"
- "Can I get on the bus? Sure you can! But you must line up first." (In the video, she is the only person there.)
- "Hallasan is higher than Jirisan." (taller?)
-"Come to my movie party! We'll have pillow fghts and sing a song."
-Student 1: "Can I come to your house?" Student 2: "Ok, come in." (As my friend pointed out - doesn't this imply that he is already at said person's house?)
Today I will be describing a few of the mysteries inherent in Korean expat life. (No, I won't be discussing fan death.)
The Truman Show Effect
stalker shot
It happens all the time -- when talking to a local shop owner, bus driver, or waiter, struggling to use my rudimentary (read: practically non-existent) language skills, the Korean I'm talking to will suddenly break into some very decent English. Apparently they enjoy watching me flounder, but can only take so much. (In Sweden, most expats complained about the opposite problem - Swedes hearing your non-native Swedish and immediately switching to English, not allowing you to practice. Ever.)
Or, more commonly, when engaged in a letmemakethenoiseoftheanimaliwanttoeat difficult conversation, it won't be the shop owner/bus driver who flips an English switch -- sometimes a complete stranger will swoop in with flawless English. This phenomenon is what my friends and I have dubbed "The Truman Show Effect" -- when we are lost or confused or engaged in one of the aforementioned conversations, and suddenly a stranger from the background (an extra), pops in and helps us out. This only happens in dire circumstances though: our everday/mundane failings are generally ignored.
Case in point: I live in a small rural town. The communication currency I exchange consists of stares, smiles, and head nods. Nobody talks to me. When Typhoon Bolaven hit, the creators of my show decided that my gruesome death would not make excellent television, and two different Koreans came out of the silent woodwork to tell me something in perfect English.
Extra #1: (construction worker, fixing wind damage). "You'll have to go around that way."
Extra #2: (random pedestrian lady, sees my umbrella snap in half in the wind). "You need to get a new umbrella." (I bet she was fired).
**
Time Space Fabric Issues
This one is pretty simple. Time here is weird. You simultaneously feel like you've been away forever and are brand new.
The time space fabric stretchy weirdness directly correlates with the Spastic Expat Response effect wherin an expat is completely comfortable with many odd situations, but one random thing will make him/her snap.
It is best described with the following scenario: A teacher wakes up and goes to her bus, ignoring the spit in the elevator and the crazy bus madness they call driving. Look how adapted she is! She has fully accepted her limited cheese access and soaking bathroom floor. She's so native!
And then, when she walks down the street towards her school, she senses a couple of people turning all the way around to watch her pass - a common enough occurence - and for some reason she snaps. Why does everyone stare here? What is the problem? etc.
It's not that the teacher doesn't like this country or hasn't adapted. It's that she's been here a long time and feels settled - almost at home - until something reminds her that she still doesn't belong here.
A couple months ago, I was inspired to handwrite some comicy type stuff
that happens in Korea. As it turns out, this isn't my skillset. But, I
recently found them again, and thought I'd share. Just because.
I belong to a creative writing group in Seoul called the Seoul Writer's Workshop. It meets every week (alternating between poetry and fiction), and has been a great way to meet other writers and give and receive critiques, and generally slow the brain atrophication process that set in after graduation.
Atrophication.
This weekend/week is the Korean holiday of Chuseok which is generally described as a Korean Thanksgiving - a three day holiday for families to gather and eat. Or, for expats, a three day holiday to travel around Korea/Asia; in my case, on a writer's retreat in Jeungpyeong-gun, a couple hours southeast of Seoul.
And so it was that I found myself nestled in a pension surrounded by breathable air, rocky streams, and mountains filled with broccoli trees. The renewing effect of nature, of solitude, of friendly company -- of writing -- is...nice. We rented two small pensions (vacation cottages) for our group of 16, which meant half of us slept on thin mats and fat blankets on the heated floors. Each pension had a couple of bedrooms, a common area, a bathroom, and a kitchen (or two). And writers.
Writers are interesting creatures. We had some great discussions, including one on when/why we decided to start writing. It's not something I think about often, because it's an urge that feels so natural to me, like breathing or watching Firefly -- it's always been there. I never classified myself as a writer for the same reason I never called myself a breather - it never needed a descriptor. Also, titles=pressure and standards. It's strange for me to remember that some people dislike writing and find it tedious and unnatural, that some people process through different outlets. Some people are actually living their lives. :P
**
Four or five of the retreat attendees were dealing with breakups. The sense of losing the investment of time, emotion, effort. The realization that breaking up with someone does not make you a quitter or that you will one day fail at marriage. The transition into thinking of yourself as a single entity - the removal of his/her armchair in the corner of your mind. And the opening of doors.
**
Our activities included free writing, prompted writing, and group discussions, though the majority of the time was unstructured and we were left to wander, write, read, and meet people on our own. Night meant sudden temperature drops and grilling meat and vegetables. Morning meant splayed bodies and scrambled eggs. Our group represented America, England, Canada, New Zealand, and Korea - with the majority being American. Our ages ranged from 22-50's.
I managed to forget my fancy photo taking device and instead snapped a few iphone shots. Enjoy.