3,000

Being the only one in a long distance relationship within a group of friends is, as it turns out, a fine art to be mastered.

Last night Heather and Rebekah and I invited our motley crew of friends over to Woodstock in an attempt to recreate Thursday night without the police, the hospital, the exhaustion and the tears. It worked out surprisingly well. We gathered a great group and the night was a giggly, messy pile of drained beer mugs and pitchers that seemed constantly (and irritatingly) empty. We've become friends with the owner and his buddies, and they joined us once we were all good and drunk and could be managed a little better. And I learned it wasn't just a symptom of my school. A lot of Koreans that I have met seem to love drama. They love to stir it up, ignite it. The night became a game of who likes who, a mix-and-match between my American girlfriends and the Korean guys. One which I sat out, it being common knowledge that I have a boyfriend back home. And my one attached girlfriend? She has the inconceivably good fortune of having found herself a boy who travelled with her to Korea. They live and work together here in Seoul. I'm only a little bit bitter about that...

I love this city. I love it for its parks and its foodstands, it's cafes and it chattery, smiley people. I love it for it's amazing subway system and how safe I feel walking through it no matter how late at night the hour. I love duk bok ki and rice cake and seaweed soup, and the endless cascades of noodles. I love that in my 2 months here I have only laid eyes on two ugly babies. I pretty much want to pack up the rest of them in suitcases and take them home with me.

But (and be warned, here begins the embarrassing babbling of a hopeless romantic) is it worth it if Evan is still in Kalamazoo? I know the arguments. They run on a looping tape in my mind all day every day. They've been doing that for the past year. I'm being adventurous, I'm being mature, I'll become a stronger person and I'll learn too many life lessons to count. If I had decided to just stay in Michigan I would have been miserable. But I'm a hell of a lot more depressed than my roommates. This would be 3,000 times easier if only...

That's right, 3,000. It's a good, random number.

There are no young people in our area. I have discovered that all the young people have been sucked away by college campuses. I had dinner with Tack Youn, a very old friend, near his campus. What a great area! It was bright and exciting, jammed with bars and cafes and people my age who didn't stare. We had a delicious chicken soup-type-thing and he laughed at my inability to navigate Korean food. One of the side dishes they always serve (along with the kimchi) is a plate of lettuce and a couple bright green, raw, hot peppers. Which are actually meant to be eaten raw. Like carrot sticks. Tack Youn laughed when I told him I had thought they were just there to look pretty - garnish the edge of the table - and took a bite of one to prove it.

And now, because I'm distracted by Peter and the Wolf shuffling through my itunes, I'm going to put an end to this long and disjointed entry. That's all, folks!