There is just something about traveling. The rush of anticipation, the fear of the unknown, the thrill of the unseen. It is almost like perching on the edge of a ravine, drinking in the beauty but knowing full well that with one slip – it could all end.
Or at least that is how I view it, but I have been known to be a bit dramatic.
Last month, I visited the sea (Japan-side) and climbed some breath-taking mountains. My friends and I were beaten away from dangerous cliffs by elderly Korean men, fried snails on a grill only to have them explode on us, and were angerly shouted at by beach authorities who assumed that as foreigners – we must have been littering. It is amazing that, for such a small country, Korea offers such incredible natural diversity. Thus concludes my explanation of why these pictures are in this entry even though it has nothing to do with the rest of it.
Last week, I visited the eye doctor due to my second case of pink-eye this month. The first time, I had a translator at the International Clinic, but this time – in interest of time – I chose to go to another, smaller, clinic. Sometimes I simply forget that nothing is quite as easy as it seems.
It began with finding the clinic – in an obscure building on the third floor. I was given the name in English, but apparently the sign was written in Korean – of course. After several minutes of slowly reading the sign in the pouring rain, I triumphantly burst into the office.
Receptionist: (bows a little) Anyo huseyo. (Meaning hello).
Me: bows back and responds in kind. Gives name and waits for response.
Receptionist: pulls out a massive sheet written in tiny Korean symbols. Begins babbling in Korean, obviously expecting me to respond back to help her fill out her paperwork.
Me: Uh, luni (eye)? (begins violently pointing at my eye because, duh, it is not like I am at an eye clinic or anything.)
Receptionist: (smiles at me a bit pitying.) Con-tact-uh?
Me: What?
Receptionist: Con-tact-uh? (points at her own eyes)
Me: Huh? Mulieyo (I don’t know).
Receptionist: obviously at a loss of how to explain this any other way.
Me: (finally putting together the fact that some Korean words are the same as English, only with an -uh at the end) OH. Contacts! Nae (yes)!
Receptionist: smiles benignly, realizing she wont get anymore information out of me, puts the form away and ushers me into the doctor’s office and away from the gaping stares of the others in the waiting room.
And thus began the next twenty minutes of feeling like an child. The doctor and the receptionist were more than kind considering the circumstances, but I had not a clue what they were asking of me. They would babble a few minutes to me, realize I wasn’t responding with anything other than “I don’t know”, and then begin babbling to each other about me. At one point, in complete frustration, I called our school nurse to translate for me. I, smiling at my genius, handed the cell phone to the receptionist. She explained everything to the school nurse, hung up my cell phone, and happily handing my cell back to me. I, slightly dejected at the thwarting of my brilliant plan, accepted it and dumped it back in my bag. She then grabbed my hand, led me down the stairs, across the street and into the nearest pharmacy – still holding my hand.
I think it is very tempting – despite our own level of understanding – to treat others who do not speak the same language as us childishly. Based on what little she knew I understood, the receptionist earnestly desired to make things easier for me – though unknowingly making me feel silly. It also made me realize the extent to which I still depend on others. Maybe I needed to be made a little humble to allow the kindness of others to shine.
That, and maybe I should go to the International Clinic next time.
While riding in a taxi yesterday, my driver was offering profuse flattery about my Korean language acquisition that I was eagerly drinking in.
Driver: “You speak Korean! How long you live here?”
Me: “Umm, almost four months.”
Driver: “I just met someone here from New Jersey who live here four months too, but couldn’t speak Korean. I just pretend I didn’t speak English. But you! You speak Korean! You said ‘yes’ correctly!”
Me (thinking): Apparently it takes four months to learn how to say ‘yes’ correctly.
Most of the things that come with being an expatiate become even more humorous if you imagine the same thing occurring in your home country. I have heard it said, “if you live in America, speak English.” Easier said than done.
This is certainly true of my Korean skills.
I have been having problems with the plumbing in my bathroom for a few months now in regards to water pressure. The water pressure is nonexistent when I turn it to hot, but stays unmercifully high pressured only when the water is frigid cold. Friday night in the middle of dinner, our landlord- an elderly Korean woman- and a plumber stopped by to attempt to fix the problem. I will give two scenarios: one occurring in Korea, the other occurring in an English speaking country.
Scene 1: Korea
Landlady: (Walks into my bathroom) *Lots of babbling in Korean and gesturing at the shower.
Me (in Korean): “…….water….no..”
Landlady: *Talks to the plumber, they turn on the shower. More babbling in Korean.
Me (in Korean): “……. (turns water to hot where the water is nonexistant) …water….no….”
Landlady: “Ahhhh!” (Walks over to the room/water heater and gestures at it repeatedly) *More babbling in Korean. Miming shivering and being hot. Moves the dial and continues babbling and miming.
Me (in Korean): “…….. yes?”
Landlady: (Wanders around the house checking the hot water in each sink to show me how to get the hot water on.) *More babbling in Korean.
Me (in Korean): “Here, yes. There, no.”
Landlady: (Smiles, leads me over to the heater again, gestures wildly again with more miming. Grins again and leaves.)
Me (in English): (sighs) “Crap, so much for taking showers.”
Scene 2: Somewhere familiar
Landlady: (Walks into my bathroom) “I heard there was a problem with your shower. What seems to be the problem?”
Me: (Blank stare) “…….water….no..”
Landlady: (Turns to the plumber, they turn on the shower.) “It seems to be fine to me. If I continue talking to her, do you think she will keep giving me the vacant stare?”
Me: (raised eyebrow and blank look)”……. (turns water to hot) …water….no….”
Landlady: “Aha! (Walks over to the room/water heater) You have no hot water! This is the water heater. Turn it this way and the water is cold (mimes shivering), turn it this way and the water turns hot (mimes sweating).”
Me: (smiles vacantly)”…….. yes?”
Landlady: (Wanders around the house checking the hot water in each sink to show me how to get the hot water on.) “Here, look! Now the hot water is working! You silly things have been showering in frigid water. Once you fix it is fine!”
Me: (Gestures wildly) “Here, yes. There, no.”
Landlady: (Smiles, leads me over to the heater again) “Well, now it will be fixed since you know how to turn on the water heater. Remember this way for cold (shivers), this way for hot (feigns sweating). Good luck you silly thing.”
Me: (sighs) *Rambles in another language.
And such is the life of an expatriate. Pity us, we are a pathetic bunch.
Somethings about living in Korea become a part of habit and many things remain peculiar. Most of the peculiar things are those that involve being a teacher. It is amazing to me that after four years of teacher education, I still feel like I am walking around like a deer in headlights.
For example, we had our first field trip and birthday party this past Friday. We organized the field trip with over sixty children and ten adults onto a full military post for a tour of the fire house. Since it was on a military base, it involved passports for all involved and paperwork to prove that our little innocents from the world over were not out to destroy a military fire house. By the time I arrived at the parent/teacher meeting after school, I was covered in mud, pizza sauce, and bright pink cake icing. When you are meeting with CEO of world companies, it is not generally appropriate to have hot pink cake icing smeared across your blazer.
Also, movie-going in Korea is its own new experience.
There are two floors of entertainment with I-Max size movie screens if you make it through the blue haze of video-game-addled adolescents. You then grab a number like the deli line at the grocers in order to buy your tickets. Eventually, though, your patience will be rewarded.
On the other-hand, I am an expert at the oddities of the Korean subways. Korean advertisers thoroughly enjoy their careers and the Korean public certainly reaps the benefit of their unusual approaches to relatively subdued products.
Take a closer look at this subway sign:
I could never fully express to Korean advertisers my great appreciation for the work they do.
On Wednesday, I attended a piano and flute performance at a local radio station. I was invited by a friend because she thought that music would “transcend all language barriers.” That fact is completely true, but only if the majority of the performance doesn’t involve speaking, like this performance happened to. My poor friend looked flustered and tried to translate before I told her to simply enjoy the performance.
I was certainly enjoying the stares of being the only non-Asian, non-Korean speaking individual in attendance. I enjoyed the music and was deeply engrossed with one Italian piece in particular. Since I could not read the program, I was purely shocked when the next song the group sang was “Oh Happy Day.” It was very beautifully sung, but the way the words were rounded at the end and the expressions of the singers caused me to inappropriately break-out laughing in the realization that they hadn’t a clue what they were singing. Although I had been enjoying the Italian piece, I suddenly realized what it must sound like to be Italian and listening to these songs sung world-wide. It is a purely hysterical realization and I recommend highly that everyone experiences it at some point in their life.
After all, there is no greater happiness at laughing out loud during a Korean radio broadcast in the middle of “Oh, Happy Day.”
