Angst in Warsaw

I left the porch door open while it rained; a game of dare with the weather. I won't enter your space if you stay out of mine. The result? A thin strip of bleachy-dry, red-porch stone at the threshold of then and now.

The last week and a half are marked by my steadfast takeover of the dining room table. The pounds and pounds of textbooks that I lugged from Ann Arbor to Warsaw have just about grown roots into the varnished woodwork. Pages and pages, ballpoint pens and bloodshot eyes, fevers and headaches, cramps and acute lethargy. And, according to the bathroom scale, two whole kilos.

Fabulous.

I am scratching my way through three online courses that are prerequisites for the Elementary Education Masters with Certification program I was conditionally accepted to several months ago. And I have forgotten about Poland entirely.

The rain smells like pine needles on wet dirt. It smells like the bike ride my parents coaxed me into yesterday. We looped through the forest down at the end of our road, following my dad as he veered down paths I would have missed entirely had I been on my own. Fresh hoofprints kindled forgotten memories of the elaborate childhood fantasy I concocted in which our family bike collection was a stable-full of horses with names and personalities derived from their company logos. Roads have been paved, construction finished. At this point the mansions outnumber the shacks. Unfamiliar dogs barked at us as we cycled past - I used to pride myself on being able to match the dog to the lot.

On this visit I can't afford to appreciate Warsaw like she deserves. And that, very plainly, sucks.

I walked into the condo and it smelled like America.

Do you know what I mean when I say "it smelled like America"? I'm not sure I can explain it properly. It's this unique smell that's fresh and cozy and infused with good memories from my childhood when I utterly idolized this country and treasured those first moments off the plane. It's the smell of clean, carpeted American homes, with closely cut grass and pantries full of Lucky Charms and bread that's impossibly soft. It's the smell of bright Saturday morning cartoons, fantastical meanderings through the Borders young adult section, and breathing in the bounty of Meijer.

That's the smell of America. Coming back to the country after 7 months it is heaven. I started the unpacking process the first night (then it stalled for about 3 days), and was appalled to find that my clothes all had an odd, basementy smell. I attributed it to my suitcases having been carelessly stored while I was in Japan until I found the clothes I had worn the day before. They hadn't been in storage at all and they still had that odd, sour scent to them. Complaining aloud, I tossed a shirt to Evan to see if he could identify the smell.

"That's the smell of Korea," he said.

"What?"

"That's how both of your apartments there smelled."

Korea had a smell? Korea smelled like this? Astonishing how repulsive I found it once I was out of Korea. I decided to forgo the massive laundry load, and the next day the smell had already begun to fade. My clothing has already adapted to American life.

I, on the other hand, have not.

I met Zina for coffee today in Kerrytown. It's the first time we've seen each other since high school and it was really great to see her. After we parted ways I walked over to State street to make a hair appointment. Walking though the streets of my old town was surprisingly nerve-wracking. I can't remember the last time I felt so conspicuous. An odd statement, coming from the curly-haired white girl who just spent the better part of a year in Korea. But in Korea, I was a foreigner - and obviously so. Foreigners can get away with a lot. We're not held responsible for conforming to society because we so clearly don't belong.

Suddenly I'm back in a society I don't stand out in. When people looked at me in Korea, I knew it was because I looked different. I stopped noticing the stares, and when I did catch one, all I felt was a little kick of pride. When people looked at me in the streets today I had no idea why they were doing it. Was I doing something wrong? Were my clothes out of style? Did they know something I didn't?

It's a bizarre form of culture shock that sent me scuttling back up north to hide behind condo doors. Baby steps. Baby steps back into this city that once belonged to me wholly.

Japan At Last!

I spent my 20th birthday in Paris with Evan. We went out for a fancy dinner and then took an impossibly romantic stroll under a fully-it Eiffel Tower and talked about our future for the first time. And he asked me to go to Japan with him. And I said yes.

That was when I started researching English teaching positions. Then Evan decided he'd rather stay in Michigan and I went to Asia without him and the whole things is a comical mess that I'd be glad to rant to you about in person. Just ask.

Anyway, here we are, finally in Japan together. Awesomeness.

Yesterday we landed in Tokyo, found our hotel, dropped off our luggage and headed out. WE ate greasy ramen at a local place and then made a beeline for Akihabara because I could not imagine starting our Japanese tour anywhere else. A whole area full of geeks, porn, bright lights and electronics, anime, manga, arcades...it was brilliant. Only in Japan. I even played a dollar's worth of Tekken 6 - as a pink-haired cyborg fairy whose special move was to pull off her head, hand it to her opponent, step back and giggle as the old head exploded like a grenade and a new one grew in. Girls dressed in elaborate French maid outfits handed out pamphlets for their cafes where you can go in and be called "Master." Back alley stores sold "orient dolls," eerily lifelike creations, most of whom were designed to look like little girls, all with odd, innocently-confused looks on their too-real, dead-eyed faces. And it was about 98% men shopping for figurines, comic books, anime-style costumes, S&M gear or blowing coins at the arcade on dating simulations, beat 'em ups, and gambling machines. Only. In. Japan.

Beyond that we didn't do much else of note in Tokyo. We're saving two days at the end of our trip for the real Tokyo tour. We took a bullet train to Kanazawa (well, part of the way), where Maggie met us at (where else?) a Starbucks. Which was offering Sakura-flavored everything! We're missing Cherry Blossom season by a few weeks, which is tragic. I'll have to console myself with a bright pink Sakura latter and a slice of fairy-like Sakura cake.

In the meantime, I'm delighted to be with Maggie again! And to see for myself all the wonders descibe in her blog, like the famous Peter Rabbit toaster and the blessed kerosene heater. Tomorrow we will laugh the rain in its face and explore the hell out of Kanazawa. Now I'm going to huddle beneath my electric blanket because damn Japanese buildings have no insulation and no heating. Good night!

Incheon Airport is Full of Free Wi-Fi and I Love It

Anyone who has ever travelled with me will be aware of the fact that I am extremely stress-prone when it comes to getting to and from places I've never been before. You'd think a lifetime of travel would have cured me of this early on. I blame Rewald-timing. How we're generally late for everything (or nick-of-time), and how that's stressed me out all my life. So here I sit in Incheon airport, 3 hours early for my flight to Tokyo. But that's not the point. The point is that I will be getting off the plane in Japan in a few hours with no idea how to navigate the city, no guidebook, no phone. How adventurous am I?

We finally booked a room for tonight in Tokyo...late, late last night. Luckily its not a busy time of year. How perfectly spur-of-the-moment, don't you think?

If anything, Korea has taught me a little bit about taking risks and embracing my foreignness. Going to a hole in the wall noodle shop instead of clinging to my credit card in the heavily-touristed zones. Getting a little lost and not clenching the entire time. Waiting to see how it all turns out before freaking too far out.

I guess you can all ask Evan how I did when this is all over. I'm sure his response will be "Adri? Cool as a cucmber the entire time." Yep.

JAPAN.

Musings from the Staff Room

Here I sit, alone in the staff room, having been required to come to school even though my Cherries have graduated and flitted away. The graduation ceremony went rather well, I think, despite desperate attempts by my boss to make everything more ritualistic than 6-year-olds needed it to be notwithstanding.

Two days before the ceremony I was informed via casual passing statement that "by the way, tomorrow is your last day of class." And here I was thinking I had all week with my kids, to tie knots in loose ends and soak up all the hugs I wanted. Nope.
So on Tuesday I told the kids to start packing up their things at the usual time. Somehow Evan had the good sense to be FILMING this whole scene. And we played one last round of the "Spider Game" (a variation of hangman that does away with death imagery), where I spelled out Goodbye Cherry Class. And when the class cheered because they guessed it right almost immediately, I completely lost it and started sobbing. And what do my kids do?

Jason: "Look! Miss Adriana's face is red!"

Yes, Jason, my face is red because I'm crying. Luckily my girls were a little more sympathetic. I had a rather difficult time trying to pry Stephanie off me. I hadn't planned on crying. Samantha, the girl whose contract ended a week after mine started, warned me it would happen. Unexpectedly. She also had issues with the administration - but leaving the kids will break your heart, she said.

I'm excited to be leaving. I'm excited to back to Ann Arbor and plan out my future, test the waters, take more risks. At the risk of making myself cringe when I reread this later: being back with Evan is all I really wanted. It just took a move to Korea to make me realize it.

Thanks Korea. I have a better idea of what I want. I'm a little better at handling the scary, unknown things in life. And I've collected all this great friend-making practice (making friends is hard!!). Time to move on

The End of An Era

It really is, isn't it?

In about 7 hours Evan's plane lands and everythign will change. I'm sitting in the staff room with a few knicked moments, and felt the need to publicly nostaligize over everyone. It's what Heather, Beka and I did last night at Woodstock, remember the early days when we would be the only ones there, trying to guess whether the barman was single and whether he looked his age or not.

Those depressed months barely register now. My life has done a 180 and I barely noticed. I can't belive I only have 2 weeks left. I couldn't be happier, but I'm left with that well-worn feeling that this ending, like all the endings that have come before it, should be more momentous. Like I need a ceremony to mark its passing, like I should take more care to write detailed and angst-filled journal entries marking all my "lasts." Like I need to apprecaite every little thing that happens and thus slow down time.

But I really can't be bothered.

So today I'm going to hug my kids and yell at the just like any other day, eat my yummy school lunch, collapse on the couch between classes, go get my coffee at the same time I always do...and then go pick up Evan after work.

Just like that.

So, Then What Happened?

Happy New Year, everyone! Lunar new year, that is. Year of the Tiger.

Rawr?

This weekend was bubbling in awesomness, starting with Maggie's arrival late Thursday night and ending...well, not ending yet.

Let's see, what did we do? She came to school with me on Friday, and provided excellent moral support when I got an email telling me that even if I get accepted into my Education grad school program, I'm missing three prerequisite classes... :( Then we went out for a raucous Itaewon night, starting with drag queen bingo (that's bingo, called by the oozing-fabulousness Nevada with her pink feather boa and her memory-foam boobs).

We wandered through a part of Seoul known for its still-functional ancient houses, and looked at jewelry in Insadong on Saturday. Then we met with Nam Hee, Ah Young and Tack Youn for a yummy

dinner of budae jigae (after I pestered all of them over numerous text messages for kimchi jigae this was the compromise we reached). We laughed, reminisced, sighed, gossiped, all over ramen stew and later, tea and coffee, staying out later than any of us had planned.

Sunday morning saw a scrumptious brunch at the Flying Pan in Itaewon. The reviews of this place did not lie. It was one of the best non-Korean meals I've had in Seoul. Maybe one of the best meals, period. Maggie and I, with our innate ability to sniff out any Starbucks in the vicinity, holed up in one to wait for Min Jung to come visit, and thus the cycle of ASW reunions in Seoul ended. Well, for the people we cared about, anyway.

Tack on two days of shopping - the kind of shopping that leaves you warm and satisfied, and excited to go to work the next day if only to show off your finds - and you have a perfect 3-day weekend. Top it all off with one final girl's night at Woodstock: mugs of Cass, a winning streak in Rummy, requesting all the silly, singalong music we love so much and giggling the night away...

I think I'm ready for Evan to come now.