Forging and Foraging

Friends pop out of the ground like daisies when you're an English teacher in Seoul. When you meet someone you cling to them. Case in point: I was exploring Itaewon with a girl I'd previously spent about 2 minutes with and we were trying to find the English language bookstore. So we asked another girl on the street. Not only did she know where the bookstore was, she took us there, and proceeded to stay with us all day. And I have a new friend.

Just like that.

We all link up to each other, like a human chain. I meet person A - we exchange phone numbers practically in the same breath as the introductions - we arrange to meet again, and each bring friends - the chain goes on. Frantic and breathless because no one can stand the loneliness for much longer.

I have recently been wishing I could stir up the guts to go out to eat alone. There are no less than 15 restaurants within a minute walk of my apartment. None of these have anything English about them. I'm starting to have Korean food cravings. Luckily today my roommates were up for an excursion, and Hyo Jin is just about the best translator/guide I could ever hope for. I had some spicy beef soup with rice and it was delicious.

The weekend is over. A new dawn begins. I meet the two new girls tomorrow - my coworkers and roommates for the next year and I'm all knotted up over it. With any luck, together we new teachers will be able to help last year's drama dissipate.

The Things I Could Do

My mind is buzzing with ideas after talking to my mom. All the things I could do with these kids, all the different ways I can incorporate writing. If I could just phase out the cooking class (which I thankfully haven't done yet because of the string of birthday parties we've been having instead) and replace it with a poetry class I'd be happy as a clam.

But then I'd have to have a clue as to how to try to teach poetry to roomful of Korean kindergartners.

Mom is a neverending well of ideas about how to deal with kids. Daily journals, a reading corner...I could transform this class into something completely new. But would I be allowed to? I have an inkling that Korean and American teaching styles are vastly different. When my boss takes a class he does not tolerate fidgeting, talking, anything. he's not mean but he is very, very firm. Children sit straight in their chairs and are quiet as church mice in his classrooms. Would he be open to loosening the structure a little?

In other news, we had duk bok ki at lunch today. It's this delicious dish of rice dumplings in a spicy orange-colored sauce. I took a big portion and mixed it up with my rice because that's what I've always done with rice and sauce. But when Brian came into the room with his little tray and saw what I was doing he started shrieking with laughter. "Teacher! Why are you doing? Look what she's doing!" He ran off to tell his friend that Miss Adriana was mixing her rice with the duk bok ki. It was almost as if I had just been seen wearing my underwear on my head. I guess these kids eat their rice plain or else mix it into the soup. But sauce? Never.

Ten minutes later I had polished off my meal and started wandering about the classroom, chatting with the students, and Brian called me over to his desk.

"Look, teacher," he said. "I did it too." Sure enough, Brian - and half the class - had attempted to mix their rice into the sauce. He was beaming at me as if we shared some sort of hilarious secret.

I love these kids.

P.S. I went grocery shopping today! I bought yogurt and plums and cereal, and something I hope turns out to be milk...

P.P.S. I also did laundry!!! Clean underwear officially become available tomorrow morning. I can't wait.

The Mysterious Disappearing Headaches

I have not had a headache since I left Ann Arbor. Not one of the usual ones, anyway. One or two little pain pulses over the past two weeks but those were child's play compared to the daily brain searings I've always lived with. I didn't realize until I hit a rough patch this afternoon. Right after I ate my mild Korean lunch with the kids it was like I sprung a leak in the bottom of my feet and all of my energy poured right out onto the floor. I sat at my desk with a cup of tea (the only source of energy I could think of) with glazed eyes while the kids ambled about, and I think I churned enough back up to finish off the day without bursting into tears. And in all the crappiness I felt while I was down there, I did not develop a headache. It was amazing.

What is it about this place that keeps the headaches away? Is the environment? Is it the Korean food? The lifestyle change? The buckets of water I've started drinking everyday due to heat, AC dryness and yelling at kids?

My boss took us all out for dinner for Sam's last night. We had shabu shabu again. It's so much fun to eat out in the country. You get to cook your own food, and its all so delicious. We swept the awkwardness under the table

by trying to figure out an English name for the boss's son, who will be starting English preschool with the new class opening next week. It was a delightful cultural romp as he suggested names that we nixed for various reasons ("No, Grace is really a girl's name" "Monroe is more common as a last name") and we through names at him (Mason, Jake, Zachary and Tristan came up). I love this tradition of picking new names. Once my Cherry class graduates in February, I wonder if I'll get a whole new class to name as well.

Take my hand, we'll make it I swear...

My chest is buzzing and my ears tingling and the air in my room seems lighter somehow. That's what happens when you belt your heart out on an echoing microphone in a tiny room with friends. The thick karaoke songbook was only a fraction full of English titles but there was plenty to choose from nonetheless. It was awkward at first; this was a regular pastime of Hyo Jin's and Jen and I were both uneasy with any kind of karaoke. I broke the ice with "Ghostbusters" which I highly recommend as a warm-up song to any beginner. This was followed by My Sharona, Wonderwall, I Want it That Way, Hotel California and Don't Stop Believing, among others. By the end I was a regular diva, moving and dancing and shimmying up and down in my seat.

The best part was that while the letters scooted across the screen the backdrops weren't music videos, but what looked like cheap travel footage of Hawaii and Prague. That took some getting used to. Trying rocking out to Bon Jovi while a battalion of overweight men in grass skirts hula at you.

In other news I managed to make it two weeks without doing laundry. The washing machine scares me and I don't want to go near it. I even hand-washed some underwear yesterday. There are no dryers in Korea. I dread the starchy, wrinkled mess my clothes will dry in. Soon enough I'll have to grit my teeth and just do it.

Like a lot of things here.

The Cycle Bares its Teeth

Nobody likes watching Sunday mornings trickle by. I wasn't paying attention, too busy playing an online game of Settlers of Catan with Evan and two robots named Maui and Pele. Pele was a real jerk.

Let me take a minute to express to you the extent to which Skype has saved my life here in Seoul. Well - it's a large extent. Huge, you might say. Forgive the Mastercard reference, but being able to see my boy first thing in the morning?...priceless. We hang out over the internet, our Skype sessions lasting hours at a time. And all I can think about when I'm out and walking around is how much easier this would all be if he were here too.

Anne and Danny and I had what I like to think of as a "Christine Meeting." A chance exchange of phone numbers at some random jumping-off point. I met Christine at Freshman Orientation, and I met these two at the Chicago Consulate in line to get our visas. So we finally got together, along with their Korean friend Joe. We explored the clothing explosion that is Dongdaemun (5 super-malls clustered together for the ultimate shopping experience) and ate a seafood soup dish that had us Americans in tears. I think I stripped the outer layer off my mouth with that stuff. But it was delicious.

I'm constantly surprised by how life flows here, one day into the next. Just like at home. Somehow I thought it would be different. Backward, maybe, or riddled with pauses. Tomorrow is another work day. I survived my first week but the triumph I felt on Friday afternoon didn't keep Monday from coming around again, like I think I expected it would. I get a pat on the back, maybe a celebratory beer, and then everyone ducks their heads and moves along. Like anywhere else in the world.

Tequila

Not as bad as I remember it being.

That said, the last time I did tequila shots was probably 3 years ago. Ah, the early days of college...

My roommate Sam - in a very generous gesture - invited me out for her birthday celebration. I met her friends and saw Itaewon for the first time. That's the foreigner-infused patch of Seoul. We had burritos at a Mexican restaurant and danced at a tropical-themed club with rooms with beaches for floors. We had to take off our shoes so that we could feel the sand between our toes as we danced to Michael Jackson and top 40 hits. I smiled and I danced and I took chances; said things I might not have ever said had I been in Ann Arbor.

I had lunch with Nam Hee in Insadong. We watched honey be spun into threads like spider's silk, wrapped around crushed nuts and sold in boxes like butterfly cocoons. We ate bibimbap out of hot stone bowls and remembered the old days at ASW, and gossiped about the new days we both felt mired in. I tried Five Taste Tea at a swanky Insadong teahouse that she paid for, ensuring that we would be meeting again soon so that I could repay the favor.

On my way there I was chatted up by a 20 year old Korean boy with shiny gold stars studding his ears who, upon determining my nationality and my age (but not my name) announced that we were now friends and that I should give him my phone number. On the way back I walked from the subway instead of taking a bus and soaked up the tiny thrills that would run through my skin each time a fat, cold raindrop burst on my skin. It rained sparsely the whole time. I thought about how much had changed in the past few weeks - how I could open my e-mail and right there on the first page were remainders of notes that I had sent from the condo couch in Ann Arbor.

But how can that be? That was over a lifetime ago.

Gratuitous Poem # 2

The sound of miniature Korean families

clicking silverware cooking noodles

salty like the sweat

I ran off when I needed to stop

thinking about you

for once

Who knew acorns

could be jelly or how chewy

fishskin gets

That streets are for pedestrians

and I should cover my shoulders now

cut my arm you'll smell the green

because I am

the new things like dew on my face

still refreshing

and sweet

dewdrops to raindrops

from a grayer sky rain

to teardrops soon I will hate this place

The trick will be waiting for love again

1001 Ways to Eat Rice

Last night Hyo Jin cooked us dinner. It was a marvelous production; she spent about an hour and a half cooking it in the 90-degree heat wafting through our windows. Some sort of chicken-curry-stew-noodle dish, it had a thick brown sauce and was surprisingly spicy. So spicy, in fact, that I began to sweat. It wasn't so bad at first, but then suddenly I realized that while my shirt sticking to my back and nobody else even had a sheen on their face. My nose was runny, my hair frazzled by the humidity - I must have looked like a fool.

Tonight she cooked dinner again. Hyo Jin has become my new Evan. When she moves out I'm probably going to revert to relying on my One-A-Days and the few "healthy" things I pick up. Food shopping in Korea scares me. I've been so spoiled by suburban American Wonder-marts...but the grocery stores here are even smaller than what I'd been used to in Poland. Of course the fact that all the names, brands, cooking instructions and nutritional information are nonsense to my eyes doesn't help make it any less intimidating. But beyond that, this country is brimming with foods, flavors and ways of preparing things that I had never even heard of. Dried fish is everywhere - dried anchovies are especially popular at bars (instead of peanuts). Of course there is the kimchi. Cucumber kimchi, lettuce kimchi, beansprout kimchi, kimchi kimchi. And I never knew how many things you can do with rice! It's incredible! And I don't even know the half of it because most of the things that have been identified to me as rice I wouldn't have ever guessed to be...rice. The standard birthday cake at C&C is rice cake - this delicious concoction of rice pounded into a fluffy, bready consistency with a tiny bit of sugar and some food coloring. The versatility blows my mind.

The kids delight in teaching me about the Korean food we are served at lunch everyday. They crowd around me and point at things, blurting their Korean names at me and waiting, puppy-eyed, for me to recite them back. Then they announce which things are yummy and which things are "don't like!" Lunchtime is my favorite part of the day.

Today I walked into the classroom with my full tray and there was instant silence. Uh-oh....what did they do now? Then they tried to tell me what was up - but I still can't understand most of the things they try to tell me. All I could hear was Ella's name being said over and over. Then another kid walked in and everybody laughed. They were betting on who would come in next! And it looked like Ella was the crowd favorite. Gradually the seats filled up and still no Ella. The class never gave up hope that maybe - just maybe - Ella would be the next one in. A couple chants started up and dissolved into piles of giggles upon disappointment. Then finally, when there were only two empty seats left, Ella came. She appeared in the doorway with a smile and a big "hello!" and the class erupted into cheers. The poor girl had no idea what was going on but as soon as the shock dissipated she grinned even harder. It was ADORABLE.

Almost as adorable - but not quite - was the scene I walked in on about 5 minutes after the morning classes left on their bus. The halls were relatively empty. The afternoon kids hadn't arrived yet so only the smattering of morning kids who stick around for further classes. The piano (or one of the keyboards) is always being played during breaks so I've gotten used to that but I was surprised that "Heart and Soul" was being played since the kids are either way better than that or practicing scales. So I went down the hall to take a look and was treated to quite a sight: My boss (whom you just have to think of a a giant teddy bear) was playing on the keyboard surrounded by little kids. And he was laughing and they were laughing and then he crossed his hands to play the fancy way and it just warmed my heart. Like a scene from a movie.

And I'm still smiling.

Second Day Blues

These kids love to draw.

The number 1 stress that I carry with me as a green teacher (or, greacher) is the "what if we run out of things to do?" Cold, midnight sweats burst out of this question. As in, a 3am bathroom runs becomes a 3 hour toss-and-turn marathon. Maybe that's just the jetlag. I hope so.

But today the first secret of Cherry Class uncoiled its petals and smiled at me. Someone finishes their test too early? Hand them a sheet of paper and let their imaginations go wild. The result: clam-happy kiddies.

I knew their names on the first day. Particularly proud of that one. I think I've identified the two poles in the class as well: The impossibly adorable little girl who's just a walking ball of love and shyness, and the loud and distractable boy who seems unable to ever sit straight in his chair and who likes to scream answers to all of my questions. Who knows how the others will turn out? It's far too early to tell.

Today I learned that I had been unintentionally snubbing people by handing them money (at stores and such) with only one hand. I'm supposed to clutch the offered hand around the wrist with the other hand. Just one more thing to try and not forget. Like recycling everything. Or turning the hot water on and off before and after each shower. Or constantly looking both ways when walking anywhere because there are no sidewalks and the cars pretty much do anything they want on those streets.

It's only the second day. It's only the second day. It's only the second day.

Cherries!

Something I've been itching to be able to announce for months now: I've survived my first day of teaching.

The place: homey and sweet

The people: friendly and practically falling over each other to make sure I'm ok

The job: draining and detailed but not difficult

The kids: so freaking adorable I want to eat them all up with a spoon.

Today was mostly observation. The real work starts tomorrow. Lesson plans and simple games, repetition and endless patience. All with a little help from my friends.

It's a very small, brand new private school, so a lot of surface things are very important to my boss. One thing I kept hearing over and over again was "Miss Adriana is so pretty!" It's something that would never, ever be openly mentioned at an American workplace, but everyone here is very openly delighted that I'm so "pretty" because it means the parents will be more forgiving. Twisted, I know, but I've been enjoying it so far. I met one mother today and she, using some quite universal sign language, approved of my figure. In front of my boss. It was amazing.

When the day was done I felt so full and empty at the same time all I wanted to do was find a corner to cry in. Empty of the anxieties of not knowing, full of fresh anxieties and budding excitement.

There are several different classes I teach. The main class - Cherry class - is made up of 11 5 year olds and runs from 9am until 2. Then I teach 3 different 40 minute afternoon classes that are much more straightforward and textbook based. That morning class, though - it's completely mine. Mine to mold and create for. That's the best part.

Today and the Dog Cafe

This morning I ran. And it was good.

As I wove in and out of elderly Korean men and women I reveled in my freedom. They stared at me - in my shorts and old t-shirt I was all but indecent to them in their long sleevs, long pants, hats and (in a couple cases) gloves. It was 75 degrees and rising when I went out at 6:30am.

Maybe this is how I will preserve my sanity. Winter might suck a little.

I came back home and fell asleep for a few more solid hours and never fully woke up. Jen and I went to meet Hyojin for lunch at Everest - a delightful Nepalese restaurant nestled in the armpit of Dongdaemun. The food was delicious (the nan is to die for) and the atmosphere made me think of home. Funny, because South Asian food never used to be my first choice.

Then we took the subway to Hongdae - a university area. This is what I was waiting for. It was vibrant and alive and full of people my age. I spotted more foreigners than I've seen all week. There were coffee shops, restaurants, clothing stores, street vendors packed on every floor or every building, like a big, bustling game of urban tetris.

We went to Bau House - a pun that made me giggle for several whole minutes. Bow wow, Bauhaus (the department store bu the apartment), Dog house - Bau House. It's a cafe with dogs. About 15 dogs, impeccably groomed, sweet and mild mannered, of all shapes, sizes and breeds, wandered this cafe with free reign over the tables, couches and windowsills. As we sipped our coffee we watched dogs playing, dogs sleeping, dogs climbing onto our shoulders and knocking things off our tables, dogs cuddling up to us and running away from us. They would pee on the floor wherever they wanted and a contingent of employees with squeegees and spray and paper towels cleaned up after them. I completely feel in love with the place.

It was therapy. What better way to make yourself happy than to surround yourself with the happiest creatures on earth? I forgot I was in a strange place where I didn't know the language. We spent hours there playing, petting, calling, watching, smiling like idiots the whole time. Too bad an idea like this would never fly in the States. Everyone could use dog-cafe therapy. I'll definitely be back for more!

Zoom

Should have written this entry 4 hours ago when I was over the moon after a wonderful dinner with the woman who hired me and my roommate Jen that relieved so many petty worries I had had. Over delicious shabu shabu (veggies and thinly shaved beef, noodles and rice all boiled in a big bowl in front of us) a lot of the anxieties that I hadn't even realized I'd been harboring puffed up and away and I can't wait to meet my kids.

A spontaneous mini shopping spree led to the revelation that although Korea's tragic flaw seems to be the inability to manufacture shirts and dresses that actually flatter the female form, I may actually be able to buy clothes here. Shoes are another story. Feet here are so small. A lot of things are small. The dogs in the pet store were all about the size of Barbie horses. The vans are like pillbugs hurtling down the streets. My room is a matchbox. I've got a camera zooming out on me in slow motion.

Foreign Pigeon

It's unnerving how often mothers are right about these kinds of things. I'll admit, I stalled for a couple hours before leaving, including a turn around after I became convinced that something had fallen in my eye a block away from the apartment. But I did it. I took a taxi to the nearest subway and back. I took two subway lines to the palace and back. No hiccups.

Tourism-therapy. I'm a believer. I spent four hours walking through the massive Gyeongbokgung palace complex. It was a refreshingly no-frills kind of cultural treasure; big blobs of buildings here and there among the lupine and long grass, plenty of shady trees, even the occasional dragonfly to complete the idyll. There were no winding rooms full of Baroque artifacts, no commitments to be made to one exhibit or another - just the offering of open spaces, courtyards, and open doors everywhere to allow for a delicious meandering of mind and body.

I was making a video in front of the Heumgyeonggak Pavilion to try the capture the remarkable racket a batch of insects was making in one particular clump of trees. A pair of pigeons wandered over and as the got closer and closer I had the odd sensation that they, like the throngs of dark-haired people around me, were foreigners to me. The belonged and I didn't. I had an overwhelming urge to get out of their way because this was their land. The fact that they did not seem afraid of me at all only reinforced this unease. I finally moved away, and the closest pigeon, right by my foot, didn't bat an eyelash. Pigeons could have eyelashes.

I saw perhaps 6 or 7 other people who were obviously expats today. I think I threw more than one of them a good dose of puppy-dog eyes. Four days in a strange country and I'm already desperate for connections with other outsiders. But we have this problem of First Contact. Yes we see each other and instantly recognize each other for that which we have in common...but how to bridge the gap between recognition and actual conversation? Somehow I don't think running up to them, tugging on the end of their shirts and babbling "Hi I'm American. You look American. Are you American? Let's be American together" would work too well.

Gratuitous Poem #1

Spat in my hand slapped
the ground proclaimed
this is my land now
it will hold me close

I will not be chased by fire
or water or earth or wind
Talismaned against the wild things
that come for me in the night
with headaches and heartaches
I cling to time
with a black leather cord
Guardians pulsing through metal wire
twisted and tied by someone
who loves me

This is my land now,
neon night lights and lilied pavilions
Come, let me show you

Day of the Alarm

I hate them. Mornings that is. A pattern is emerging. I go to sleep around midnight, and wake up at 2am. Then I generally manage to fall asleep within an hour or two and wake up again at 4am and again at 6am. I eventually start falling back asleep around 8 but by then I feel like I should be getting up. It sucks.

Yesterday I spent the day hiding from the rain but instead of being relaxed like the day before I just sank into a lonely place, despite my best efforts to ward it off with endless episodes of House. So I finally got up and prepared my bag to go out into the neighborhood and brave the grocery stores. I needed food. So I put on my shoes and pressed down on the door handle, only to discover it wouldn't open.

Now, it's a fancy door handle, keyless and coded and full of fancy sounding beeps and whirls when it opens. No one had told me there was a trick to getting out. So I peered at it and found a little dial that you could turn to point at "open" or "closed." So I turned it to "open" and opened the door.

ALARM! ALARM!

The noise was piercing. I had somehow set off the security alarm. After a second's panicked hesitation I remembered the doorman and clattered down five flights of stairs to get him, only to discover that he spoke no English and had no idea what I was trying to say. I guess there the alarm is only an alarm. No police ever arrived, like they would have in the states. Eventually, the doorman took me upstairs, unscrewed the battery case on the door and pulled out a battery. He put it back in when the noise stopped and everything was fine. Some security system, huh?

So out I ventured with my umbrella and a tight, humble smile etched permanently across my lips. The grocery stores each have a man who's only job seems to be to yell things at people. I assume this is some sort of selling tactic. The "drug" store I stopped into had tiny, tiny aisles crammed full of everything you could ever imagine, from scissors to pots and pans to toilet seats to facewash and razors.

So I survived my first neighborhood adventure. I came back and due to circumstances beyond my control fell asleep for a couple hours. In the evening Jen and I stumbled our way to Costco, where I bought almost too much to carry out with me; Quaker oatmeal, Nutrigrain bars, Skippy peanut butter, spaghetti and tomato sauce, juice boxes...everything I could think of. Getting there was an ordeal. Our taxi driver was a sad sounding old man who was delighted with his opportunity to practice his shaky English. He told us how great and powerful America is and about his wife who died 3 years ago of pancreatic cancer. He obviously had no idea where he was going so when we we in the area his GPS insisted was the Costco area he flagged down a girl on the street and had her get in the car to direct us to our final destination.

Nighttime was an unsteady moment for me. Samantha went to dinner with her boyfriend, and Jen and Hyo Jin both went to sleep and I got really lonely really fast. Thank god for mothers. One Skype conversation with mine had convinced me that there was no reason I couldn't take this city head on. And just to prove it I'm off on my very first subway expedition to do some touristy things. I will certainly be back to let you know how that went. Til then!

The Living Room Windows

I spent yesterday unpacking to the sound of the rain. To accomplish this I had to sacrifice my air conditioning and open the door to the living room. My broom-closet bedroom is so cocooned within this space I have no access to the natural world otherwise.

The rain kept me indoors all day while my roommates went to work. It was a long day. I woke up with a start early, early in the morning and for a blinding moment could not remember where I was. Tossing and turning and uncontrollably clenching all the muscles in my face I spent the next few hours trying to convince my body that THIS was the time to sleep, but my mind churned up worry after worry, thought after thought, worst-case scenarios one right after the other. So I got up and padded into the kitchen to refill my water mug. The floor in my Korean apartment doesn't creak like the Ann Arbor house. I could walk around as much as I wanted without worrying anyone would be disturbed. It was an oddly satisfying feeling.

I walked over to the large living room windows and looked out, sipping my water. I watched a couple early birds - all men - walking, biking, smoking, carrying things. I peered into the apartment complex across the street from us and studied the massive apartment bloki just to the right. That's when I decided that Seoul is just a city, like any other. It has Polish looking apartment buildings and people who are just trying to make their way through life. This revelation cut through all that tossing and turning like a laser beam and I felt infinitely better.

*****

When Jen got home from work she took me over to the school. I was utterly delighted by the tiny space. It's cozy and friendly, covered in blue-sky wallpaper and the children's artwork. Hosung (my super-supportive boss who called me earlier in the day while I was unpacking just to make sure I was ok) gave me the grand tour and a quick rundown of how things work. My class is called Cherry Class, and was decorated with a large, glitter-glue-rific banner welcoming me (well, welcoming Adrina, at least =). I have a sense that I am going to have an immense amount of support from Hosung, who smoothed out all my worry-wrinkles by promising to let me observe him teach for a day or two.

Oh, and all that effort that went into finding me a pair of work appropriate flats was all for nought. All teachers and students leave their shoes by the door and wear slippers all day. I am strangely excited about this quirk of Korean culture. The klapki they gave me are really comfy!

Samantha showed me around the neighborhood after that. We went up to the food court and movie theater on the top floor of Bauhaus, the monster department store by which I will collect my bearings when I'm out and about. We stopped into a pet store full of the most adorable miniature dogs I have ever seen. Samantha fell in love with a baby chihuahua that was small enough to fit in my purse. She took us down to the river where there is a beautiful jogging/biking path paved with rubber and lined with free outdoor weight lifting equipment, all under a canopy of Japanese cherry blossoms that promise to be stunning come spring.

We ate samgyeopsal for dinner - thick pieces of fatty pork grilled right at our table with kimchi and dipping sauces. Samantha also ordered a cold noodle soup with a little kimchi in it that was extremely delicious. The restaurant is right around the corner from our apartment, and a friend of Samantha's came to meet us. Her name is Apple, also known as Blaire, and I can't remember what her Korean name is. I love this idea of choosing your own English name. You get some absolutely bizarre ones, like Saturn, a boy at the school. Maybe I should choose a Korean name for myself.

The jet lag is out of this world. I went to asleep around midnight and woke up for the first time at 2am. Again at 4am and could not get back to sleep. And here I am, blogging because it's too exhausting arguing with my body over sleep schedules. All I can say is thank god I don't have to teach until Monday. Hopefully by then I'll have figured this sleep thing out.

Ann Arbor with Kimchi

That's what my mom said to think of Seoul as.

"It's just like Ann Arbor with kimchi."

Well, it's not Ann Arbor, that's for sure. I haven't had much of an impression yet. It's not what I imagined.

My boss and the administrator took me and two of my new roommates out for a traditional Korean feast. We took off our shoes and sat on the floor and ate czap cze and bulgogi and kimchi and seaweed and so much more. My stomach, which had been been desperately roaring for the mere thought of food when I landed suddenly flipped on me and stubbornly refused to enjoy the food I was shoveling into it. Whether that's a dangerous sign that I'm not that into Korean cuisine or just a symptom of unimaginably-long-flight-itis I don't know.

Everyone is so incredibly nice. It even came out as nice when I was told repeatedly that they had actually wanted to hire someone else because my visa was so late in coming. How's that for starting off on the right foot?

As it turns out I don't actually start teaching until Monday. I'll admit I panicked slightly when I heard that. Sure, the idea of starting to teach kindergartners the day after I stepped off the plane was terrifying but even more terrifying was the thought of having 4 full weekdays utterly alone in a strange country.
Haha, that doesn't sound scary to me at all, now that I think about it. Let me rephrase: 4 full weekdays utterly alone in a strange country I will not be able to leave for another year. Wow. So much time to drive myself crazy.

My mission for tomorrow is to try to make this alien little room a proper sanctuary. Then the parents suggested I take advantage of the free time and go sightseeing. Which sounds like the best idea I've ever heard.

I'm discovering the presents Evan left for me in my luggage. What would I do without this boy and his green post-it notes?

I don't think I like kimchi.

Last Supper

Evan's been hovering.

"You going to write something in your blog? I was wondering when you'd write something, and not just look at it."

Can I help being reluctant to end an era?

Sitting and watching The Princess Bride with my family after a stroganoff dinner, a perfect going-away present, and lot of hugs when I needed them, it's hard not to wish I had just a few more days. I can't think of a better send off. Thanks, guys.

Next post will be from Korea!

(Inconceivable!)