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.
Unfortunately, I am pretty awful at updating here. I feel a bit ashamed that I come here and settle rather infrequently. It almost feels like a favorite coffee house – warm and comforting, cathartic and peaceful. I used to visit every day, but once I had more reason to come and meditate over my experiences – I came more infrequently. It slowed to once a week, and then every other. Soon it became once a month and I forgot the reason why I would come. Perhaps, I would lean over my steaming cup and whisper that I will be back soon, but I know that I will forget again and return next month in a whirlwind of apologies. I will ask that you settle back with a warm cup of coffee and linger until I return.
April has been a flurry of activity. Every weekend has been spent hiking mountains, dangling over cliffs, laying on the beach, or visiting dangerous tourist locations. After all, it is finally spring. I say visiting dangerous tourist attractions casually because I know that makes you more curious. I am apparently an expert at psychology. Marvel at my skills.
A few weeks ago, I headed north to the DMZ (the Demilitarized Zone) – also known as the border with North Korea. (In the above picture, South Korea is in the foreground, and North Korea in the back). Since the only way one can visit the DMZ from the South Korean side is through the military, we were given strict instructions: no shirts with words – it could be used for propaganda, no sandals – it cannot be assumed that westerners cannot afford shoes, and no gesturing - one mustn’t start a war.
Have you ever been told not to bite your fingernails, and then found it absolutely impossible think about anything else afterward? It is the exact same thing when you have been told that to point anywhere could start a war.
“Let me get a photograph. Go stand over there! Crap! I pointed again!” As I am normally permanently attached to my camera, this was an unfortunately common occurrence. I would shrink and glance nervously around at the South Korean cameras and the North Korean guard towers and skulk off quietly, hoping no one noticed me gesturing wildly.
Thankfully, I finally was allowed to see the world largest flag pole maintained by North Korea’s Propaganda Village, though I am sure the military was hesitant to allow me anywhere as I was pursuing a career in conducting at this point. My obsessive need to research anything made me particularly compelled to share every trivial bit of information with my poor friends.
“Do you see that place over there? The place with the gigantic flagpole which I am violently gesturing to with my eyes? No, I am not having a seizure. That place over there – the one that I am not allowed to point to? Shoot. I pointed to it again! Drat, I don’t think I am allowed to say shoot.”
Frankly, I am quite impressed that I wasn’t wrestled away by the military and locked back on our bus. At least now I can say that I have stood with one foot in South Korea and one in North Korea – although, I certainly don’t think I will be allowed back anytime soon. Perhaps I can tape on a mustache and pretend to be someone else – because I am sure that will go over so much better.
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.
As requested, my new fan in my lovely kitchen. There is nothing not to love about a ginormous fan.
Look closely and you can see some Ethiopian things thrown haphazardly alongside the six foot fan of destruction.
Fall has finally arrived in Seoul. Unfortunately, it only lingered a few days before shooting straight off into winter. Ah, the blissful two days of fall. Enjoy the randomly interspersed pictures that have nothing to do with the rest of this entry.
I have recently discovered that I love hosting. One of my friends visited from down south requesting comfort food. Like an idiot, I suggested lasagna.
Normally, this does not seem like a terrible suggestion, but when you begin to understand that Koreans do not eat cheese – it becomes quite a bit of a situation. After a week of searching, I found one store that stocked extremely expensive lasagna noodles and ricotta cheese imported from Italy. Apparently, I was aiming for expensive and authentic.
Authentic, that is, until I started to fret over mozzarella. There is no such stress like mozzarella stress.
Although I had ransacked specialty stores all throughout my section of Seoul, I was sadly missing anything resembling mozzarella cheese. In desperation, I went shopping after school to our local bulk store, Costco, in hopes that I might find some cheese substitute that might be reasonably agreeable on lasagna.
I eventually found myself standing in front of a cheese-filled cooler entirely filled with sharp Colby Jack cheese. Despondently, I turned to leave my cheesy Italian dreams behind me. As a turned, a bright green bag caught my eye. An enormous bag of individually wrapped string cheese gave off a holy glow. I leaned in close to read the fine print, praying that it might just be the holy grail of mozzarella. My breath caught, tears sprang to my eyes - I had finally happened upon it! After my long search, the travails had finally come to fruition in front of the cheese freezer at Costco.
If the ancient Romans cooked lasagna with string cheese, then I can guarantee that my recipe is genuinely authentic. If not, mine may just be a first. When living as an expat, you make due with what you can find.
Even if that may be a bulk bag of string cheese.
I live in a different world. One of my students was absent on Friday so her family could take a three day trip to Japan. I couldn’t contact a parent for a week because he went to France. I have three days off from school in February and I am planning a trip to China.
When did this become normal?
Last weekend, I went to visit a friend in the south. After two hours of standing on the subway, I collapsed into a lump on her floor. She stared at me for a few moments, picked me up again, and shooed me out the door to visit the Korean-American Friendship Festival.
It was a festival of friendship and many things more. I enjoyed cotton candy, concerts, shopping, and mimes on stilts. While wandering through the streets above, I bought a gigantic decorative fan. This gigantic decorative fan is taller than me. I quite enjoyed the questions of several Koreans who were testing their English skills about my fan. While wrapped up, it looked rather like a sword. I think they were concerned for their safety.
I enjoyed the antics of the mime on stilts, but was rather disturbed when he started to talk with a kazoo. Apparently the children were amused, only the adults were frightened.
My friend had to drag me away from my discovery of the puffed rice cake maker. The rice cake mixture is poured into a circular clamp, held shut for several seconds, and shot out of the clamp by a giant burst of air. The flying rice cakes are so impressive, a cage has to be placed around the machine to contain the velocity of the dangerous flying disks. Next time you snack on a rice cake, please remember their deadly power.
Although I am sure this looks deliciously appetizing, it is decidedly not that. This is a common street vendor food that is found all over Korea. My friend would gradually inch closer to guess the food, but each guess was farther and farther away from the truth. I was thrilled to be the one to finally enlighten her in the same way someone enlightened me.
It is silk worm larvae.
I am completely serious. I hope you enjoy your lunch now.
