We were all devastated to learn that Bbyeodae Haejangguk (which, literally translated, means "hangover soup") recently closed its doors, seemingly for good. This is an unparalleled tragedy for the foreign teachers at our school. The restaurant was open 24 hours a day and served steaming-hot pork spine soup and spicy ribs with a delicious array of side dishes (and some of my favorite kimchi). My coworker tried to take his friend who was visiting to eat there and saw them carrying tables out of the restaurant. None of us are quite sure how to handle the news, or more importantly, where we will go to eat after partying all night downtown.
In other less fortunate news, my 27th birthday is tomorrow. While birthdays are normally a cause for celebration (or at least a party with friends to drown your sorrows), for whatever reason this birthday is particularly acute for me. I will be entering my late 20s (with 30 right around the corner) with no children, no concrete family or career plans, and a crappy economy (which means no jobs). Meanwhile, we just found out that my freshman-year roommate is pregnant with her second child (congratulations, guys!) and one of our groomsmen is expecting his first with his wife. He has been married for 11 months and will have a baby next summer; we, on the other hand, will have been married for four years this December, and the only children in our lives are the ones we teach (mostly just yell at, really) at school every day. Yay.
It is strange to feel pressured, especially since neither Joel nor I really want a baby right this instant (or anytime soon, really). Maybe seeing all of our peers from college having kids (many of them having second kids) just puts a weird kind of pressure on me - a nagging reminder that I am getting older and being left behind, or something. It doesn't help that no matter how many times I tell my students that I am married with no children, they always react with shock and dismay to the fact that Teacher Is No Baby.
"Teacher, you married?!"
"Yes."
"You have baby?"
"No."
"Oh whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!!"
"Joel Teacher your husband?"
"Yes."
"Teacher married?"
"Yes."
"Baby?"
"No."
"Why no baby?!"
"Teacher baby?"
"No."
"Teacher baby inside?"
"No."
"Teacher whyyyyyyy?!"
Perhaps the best conversation was one I had with one of my older elementary school students. We are getting into more advanced content, and they are learning vocabulary for big family and life events (e.g. wedding, funeral, baby shower, family reunion, etc.). I was explaining the concept of a wedding anniversary and using myself as an example, and I told the class that Joel and I would be celebrating our four-year anniversary in December. As usual, my students (whom I have told three times now that I am married) were shocked. One of the more talkative girls, whose English name is Wendy, began indignantly asking questions.
Wendy: Teacher, you married?
me: Yes, Wendy. I have told you this before.
Wendy: You have baby?
me: No.
Wendy: Teacher! Why you married four years and no baby?
me: Because babies are expensive. And we have been traveling a lot since we got married. Traveling is difficult with a baby.
Wendy: Ah, yes.
me: Why do you guys always ask me that? Why do people always have to have babies when they get married?
Wendy: But Korean always have baby. Almost all Korean get married, and baby very fast.
She made a face, and then pondered for a second.
Wendy: But I think it is good, you no baby. Korean have baby very fast. You married four years and no baby is...good.
She gave me a thumbs up.
Wisdom from the mouths of babes. I think I will take this as moral support. Happy birthday to me.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 2/Uma série de eventos infelizes, Segunda parte
Last weekend, all nine of us, plus my coworker's friend who was visiting and Joel's friend from college all met up in Seoul on Friday night to stay for the weekend. The kinder program teachers got to head out of town around 7:30 p.m., but the afternoon teachers weren't off until 10, so we didn't hit the road until late. Our bus made good time, but we still did not make it to the bus terminal in Seoul until about 2:30 a.m. From there, we had to catch a taxi to our hostel in Hongdae. Unfortunately, our taxi driver either didn't know the location of the landmark we requested, or he was too lazy to actually drop us off there, so we were left on a random street corner with no sense of direction and the hostel nowhere in sight. We walked into a nearby convenience store and, luckily, ran into a British woman who gave us directions. Otherwise, we would have been screwed.
Since we were all exhausted, we did not get started until close to noon the next day. My coworker (who did a fabulous job organizing the trip and finding accommodations, might I add) was hell-bent on trying the food at an African restaurant that she had seen before, so (for lack of any better ideas) we all headed to a little hole-in-the-wall place in Itaewon called "Mama Africa House" that served a variety of Nigerian dishes (most of them had a side of fufu). It definitely wasn't my favorite - I wouldn't choose to go back there - but it was palatable IMHO and I mostly finished mine. Unfortunately, most of the rest of our group were more than a little disgusted at the food, so a lot of us were hungry and in a foul mood by the time lunch was over. We made a plan to rendezvous at one of the subway stations at 6 and headed out.
After lunch, Joel and I split off from the main group and headed to Kyeongbokgung, the old imperial palace. Joel had some work to do, so he camped out in the museum cafe (with wifi) while I took an hour or so to walk around the palace grounds. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't terribly impressive: the architecture is neat at first, but it gets a little repetitive, and the grounds are almost entirely gravel. However, there was a small grove of maple trees that were really lovely. I would love to go back for a weekend and take some time to tour the museums in the palace complex and see some of the other palaces in the city (there are five total, I think).
After the palace closed, we headed into downtown to check out the Lantern Festival, which was the original reason we all decided to make the trip. While it was kind of a neat concept, it wasn't terribly interesting, and the fact that it was absolutely jam-packed with people killed a lot of the fun that might have been had for us. After we got tired of being stuck on a human conveyer belt, we headed back to the hostel to shower and change, and then we went to a restaurant called VIPS for steak. Joel had been hankering for a steak dinner for a while and took the trip as an opportunity to satisfy the craving. Unfortunately, dinner was where the "group" outing began to unravel; we all were still at dinner when we were supposed to meet up, and only two of us (Joel and his friend in the Army) had cell phones that were able to text each other without the aid of wifi. We were in touch with them periodically, but it never worked out to meet up. After the others finished with the lantern viewing, a few of the guys headed back to the hotel, and the others wandered around for about two hours in search of a hookah bar that they had read about. We tried to meet up with them, but Joel's friend's phone was low on battery and we couldn't figure out where they were.
At that point, we decided to head back to Itaewon to meet up with some different friends from Gwangju who were also in town. We hopped the subway and met them at a bar called the Bulldog. The night started off pretty well, but by the third bar there were more than a few couples making out (which gets boring to watch after a while), and the smoke was making me feel sick, so we called it a night at about 4:30 a.m. We grabbed soem fried chicken, took a taxi back to the hostel, and collapsed into sleep.
After another late start on Sunday, Joel went home early and one of the couples split off, while the rest of us headed to a diner (yet again in Itaewon). After we finished lunch, we decided we were pretty deflated, so four of us ladies headed to the bus terminal and went home. Seoul weekend finishee.
Since we were all exhausted, we did not get started until close to noon the next day. My coworker (who did a fabulous job organizing the trip and finding accommodations, might I add) was hell-bent on trying the food at an African restaurant that she had seen before, so (for lack of any better ideas) we all headed to a little hole-in-the-wall place in Itaewon called "Mama Africa House" that served a variety of Nigerian dishes (most of them had a side of fufu). It definitely wasn't my favorite - I wouldn't choose to go back there - but it was palatable IMHO and I mostly finished mine. Unfortunately, most of the rest of our group were more than a little disgusted at the food, so a lot of us were hungry and in a foul mood by the time lunch was over. We made a plan to rendezvous at one of the subway stations at 6 and headed out.
After lunch, Joel and I split off from the main group and headed to Kyeongbokgung, the old imperial palace. Joel had some work to do, so he camped out in the museum cafe (with wifi) while I took an hour or so to walk around the palace grounds. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't terribly impressive: the architecture is neat at first, but it gets a little repetitive, and the grounds are almost entirely gravel. However, there was a small grove of maple trees that were really lovely. I would love to go back for a weekend and take some time to tour the museums in the palace complex and see some of the other palaces in the city (there are five total, I think).
After the palace closed, we headed into downtown to check out the Lantern Festival, which was the original reason we all decided to make the trip. While it was kind of a neat concept, it wasn't terribly interesting, and the fact that it was absolutely jam-packed with people killed a lot of the fun that might have been had for us. After we got tired of being stuck on a human conveyer belt, we headed back to the hostel to shower and change, and then we went to a restaurant called VIPS for steak. Joel had been hankering for a steak dinner for a while and took the trip as an opportunity to satisfy the craving. Unfortunately, dinner was where the "group" outing began to unravel; we all were still at dinner when we were supposed to meet up, and only two of us (Joel and his friend in the Army) had cell phones that were able to text each other without the aid of wifi. We were in touch with them periodically, but it never worked out to meet up. After the others finished with the lantern viewing, a few of the guys headed back to the hotel, and the others wandered around for about two hours in search of a hookah bar that they had read about. We tried to meet up with them, but Joel's friend's phone was low on battery and we couldn't figure out where they were.
At that point, we decided to head back to Itaewon to meet up with some different friends from Gwangju who were also in town. We hopped the subway and met them at a bar called the Bulldog. The night started off pretty well, but by the third bar there were more than a few couples making out (which gets boring to watch after a while), and the smoke was making me feel sick, so we called it a night at about 4:30 a.m. We grabbed soem fried chicken, took a taxi back to the hostel, and collapsed into sleep.
After another late start on Sunday, Joel went home early and one of the couples split off, while the rest of us headed to a diner (yet again in Itaewon). After we finished lunch, we decided we were pretty deflated, so four of us ladies headed to the bus terminal and went home. Seoul weekend finishee.
Monday, November 19, 2012
A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 1/Uma série de eventos infelizes, Primeira parte
So the last few weekends have been mildly frustrating, to say the least. It hasn't been anybody's fault, really; some things are out of control and some things are inevitable when you try to arrange travel with large groups of people, like the foreign staff at our hagwon. We got the idea of organizing a few group trips in conjunction with a visit from one of my co-worker's friends, first to Jirisan (a well-known national park which has received rave reviews from one of our Korean friends) and then to Seoul for the Lantern Festival. While the trips themselves were executive successfully (everyone who wanted to go got to go, and no one got sick or was injured), they didn't go quite as smoothly as we'd hoped and have just left me kind of...deflated. Or something.
I guess it really all started when Joel bought a copy of Halo 4 at Kumho World (the local electronics store) two weeks ago. He was super excited about the release and went out to buy a copy one afternoon after our Korean class. He came back from the shop, popped the disc into the Xbox to install it and see what it was all about right before class...and then discovered that all of the cut scenes were dubbed in Korean. They are subtitled in English, and all of the menus are in English, but the actual dialogue is all in Korean with no way to change it. I looked into it, and apparently Microsoft did this for all country-specific releases - and people are universally unhappy with the dubs. Joel can play just fine, but still...part of the fun of Halo is the story, especially Chief's relationship with Cortana, and so much of that is lost with a dub.
That weekend, we were all supposed to go to Jirisan together. I organized the trip and chose a relatively short route (~7 km to ascend 1500 m) that I thought everyone would be able to handle okay to Nogodan shelter. One person in our group opted out from the start, and then Joel's friend from college, who was recently stationed just outside of Seoul with the Army, scheduled his trip to come visit that weekend, so Joel was out as well. The remaining seven of us were all set to go up until the night before the trip - then my co-worker's friend who was flying in didn't actually get to Gwangju until 2 a.m. So my co-worker, his roommate, and his friend decided it would be unwise to attempt a major hike the next day. Fair enough - there were still five of us left.
We caught a bus to Jirisan at 8:20 a.m. on Saturday morning with backpacks full of food, water, blankets (and even a few yoga mats for extra padding). We hit the trail head at ten. The hike up was lovely for about the first half - the trees were all different colors, and the maples in particular were shockingly bright shades of red and orange and were absolutely spectacular. Then, about halfway up the mountain, the climb started to get really steep. Most of the hiking trails in Korea are very manicured and well-maintained, and a very common way from them to keep the trails from eroding is to "pave" them with large jagged rocks. You always know where you are going, but it turns a mountain into one long, steep staircase and can make picking your footing a hazard sometimes. I don't mind it so much, but one of my more vocal co-workers was less than pleased.
"This isn't my favorite hike, I'm not gonna lie."
We kept pushing up. "These rocks are really starting to piss me off!"
The trail wound on as I struggled to keep pace with my more athletic co-hikers. "I fucking hate this mountain!"
Aside from how strenuous the climb was, I was actually enjoying myself, particularly because there were so few other hikers with us (by comparison, Mudeungsan - the mountain just outside of Gwangju - is solidly packed with hikers all weekend). Finally, we exited the forest onto a gravel road, and suddenly I understood why.
The road was crawling with people and cars. We all looked at each other and laughed uncomfortably, realizing all the work we'd done when we probably could have taken a bus or even hitchhiked up the mountain. "That shelter better have a ton of food," one of us joked. We walked up the road and took a last little shortcut through some trees to reach the shelter. As we rounded the final bend and the building came into view, one of the guys started laughing.
"What the...are you fucking kidding me?"
When we read that Nogodan was a hiking "shelter," I think we had all envisioned rather spartan accommodations - i.e. a one-room wooden building with floor space for 108 hikers. What we found was a three-story lodge with beds, a convenience store, and a side-room for people to cook their food. There were hundreds of stylishly-dressed Korean "hikers" milling around with their children and their designer bags. We saw a sign on the other side of the road: "Nogodan Peak - 1.05 km; Parking lot - 2 k.m." The five of us stood with our mouths gaping open for a few minutes, then we sat down and reflected in disbelief.
"This is obscene."
"Not at all what I pictured."
"My friend John is a hard core outdoor enthusiast. He would be so angry right now."
"I can't fucking believe this."
"I really shouldn't be surprised, because this is Korea, but damn. I feel cheated."
I asked the man in the convenience store if we could check in, but he said we couldn't until 5 o'clock. It was 2:30, so we put our stuff down and sat in the cooking area.
"What are we doing to do for two and a half hours?"
"I don't know, but this is ridiculous."
"We could go home," I said, half joking. "The last bus doesn't leave until 6:55."
One of the couples perked up. "That's true...we could."
We looked around at one another. "Do we want to go back?"
"Well, I am pretty much ambivalent," I said. "But if we made it up in five hours, we could make it back down in time if we left now and booked it. What do you guys think?"
After discussing for a bit, we decided to turn around and head back home. We grabbed our things and high-tailed it down the mountain in record time - just over two hours. We made our way to the local bus terminal, bought our tickets, and headed back to Gwangju sore and slightly disillusioned.
The others decided to shower and regroup to get their grooves on, but I thought I would take some time to myself to unwind. I headed home to change and pack a few things for the jimjilbang, since nothing sounded better than a good scrub and some time in a sauna and a hot tub. Then, as I was getting ready to leave, a Kimbap Nara delivery driver knocked on the door. I opened the door for him and tried to explain that I hadn't ordered food - apparently there has been a mix-up since I ordered food for my co-workers one time, and now the restaurant has our apartment associated with their phone number. Either the driver didn't understand my limited Korean, or he was dissatisfied with it, so I ended up arguing with him for about ten minutes until I called the coworkers who had ordered the food and got them to come over and get it.
I tried to shrug it off as I headed toward the bus stop to catch the bus to head to the jimjilbang. Right as I got to the bus stop, the bus I needed to catch was driving away, so I had to sit and wait in the rain for the next one - then, when I got off, I headed the wrong way down the street and walked around for about twenty minutes before I found it. After asking for directions from a cashier at Cafe Lemon Table, I finally found the place, soaked my sore muscles, and ate a giant bowl of dumpling soup.
I was feeling refreshed and relaxed until I left, when I realized that I had stayed past midnight and that the buses had stopped running. I tried to walk home and got turned around at the five-way intersection, which meant that I wandered into an unfamiliar neighborhood and got lost with no cash for a cab. I had to go to a PC bang to ask where the nearest ATM was, so that I could pull cash and then flag a taxi.
Needless to say, I did not join the party that night.
I guess it really all started when Joel bought a copy of Halo 4 at Kumho World (the local electronics store) two weeks ago. He was super excited about the release and went out to buy a copy one afternoon after our Korean class. He came back from the shop, popped the disc into the Xbox to install it and see what it was all about right before class...and then discovered that all of the cut scenes were dubbed in Korean. They are subtitled in English, and all of the menus are in English, but the actual dialogue is all in Korean with no way to change it. I looked into it, and apparently Microsoft did this for all country-specific releases - and people are universally unhappy with the dubs. Joel can play just fine, but still...part of the fun of Halo is the story, especially Chief's relationship with Cortana, and so much of that is lost with a dub.
That weekend, we were all supposed to go to Jirisan together. I organized the trip and chose a relatively short route (~7 km to ascend 1500 m) that I thought everyone would be able to handle okay to Nogodan shelter. One person in our group opted out from the start, and then Joel's friend from college, who was recently stationed just outside of Seoul with the Army, scheduled his trip to come visit that weekend, so Joel was out as well. The remaining seven of us were all set to go up until the night before the trip - then my co-worker's friend who was flying in didn't actually get to Gwangju until 2 a.m. So my co-worker, his roommate, and his friend decided it would be unwise to attempt a major hike the next day. Fair enough - there were still five of us left.
We caught a bus to Jirisan at 8:20 a.m. on Saturday morning with backpacks full of food, water, blankets (and even a few yoga mats for extra padding). We hit the trail head at ten. The hike up was lovely for about the first half - the trees were all different colors, and the maples in particular were shockingly bright shades of red and orange and were absolutely spectacular. Then, about halfway up the mountain, the climb started to get really steep. Most of the hiking trails in Korea are very manicured and well-maintained, and a very common way from them to keep the trails from eroding is to "pave" them with large jagged rocks. You always know where you are going, but it turns a mountain into one long, steep staircase and can make picking your footing a hazard sometimes. I don't mind it so much, but one of my more vocal co-workers was less than pleased.
"This isn't my favorite hike, I'm not gonna lie."
We kept pushing up. "These rocks are really starting to piss me off!"
The trail wound on as I struggled to keep pace with my more athletic co-hikers. "I fucking hate this mountain!"
Aside from how strenuous the climb was, I was actually enjoying myself, particularly because there were so few other hikers with us (by comparison, Mudeungsan - the mountain just outside of Gwangju - is solidly packed with hikers all weekend). Finally, we exited the forest onto a gravel road, and suddenly I understood why.
The road was crawling with people and cars. We all looked at each other and laughed uncomfortably, realizing all the work we'd done when we probably could have taken a bus or even hitchhiked up the mountain. "That shelter better have a ton of food," one of us joked. We walked up the road and took a last little shortcut through some trees to reach the shelter. As we rounded the final bend and the building came into view, one of the guys started laughing.
"What the...are you fucking kidding me?"
When we read that Nogodan was a hiking "shelter," I think we had all envisioned rather spartan accommodations - i.e. a one-room wooden building with floor space for 108 hikers. What we found was a three-story lodge with beds, a convenience store, and a side-room for people to cook their food. There were hundreds of stylishly-dressed Korean "hikers" milling around with their children and their designer bags. We saw a sign on the other side of the road: "Nogodan Peak - 1.05 km; Parking lot - 2 k.m." The five of us stood with our mouths gaping open for a few minutes, then we sat down and reflected in disbelief.
"This is obscene."
"Not at all what I pictured."
"My friend John is a hard core outdoor enthusiast. He would be so angry right now."
"I can't fucking believe this."
"I really shouldn't be surprised, because this is Korea, but damn. I feel cheated."
I asked the man in the convenience store if we could check in, but he said we couldn't until 5 o'clock. It was 2:30, so we put our stuff down and sat in the cooking area.
"What are we doing to do for two and a half hours?"
"I don't know, but this is ridiculous."
"We could go home," I said, half joking. "The last bus doesn't leave until 6:55."
One of the couples perked up. "That's true...we could."
We looked around at one another. "Do we want to go back?"
"Well, I am pretty much ambivalent," I said. "But if we made it up in five hours, we could make it back down in time if we left now and booked it. What do you guys think?"
After discussing for a bit, we decided to turn around and head back home. We grabbed our things and high-tailed it down the mountain in record time - just over two hours. We made our way to the local bus terminal, bought our tickets, and headed back to Gwangju sore and slightly disillusioned.
The others decided to shower and regroup to get their grooves on, but I thought I would take some time to myself to unwind. I headed home to change and pack a few things for the jimjilbang, since nothing sounded better than a good scrub and some time in a sauna and a hot tub. Then, as I was getting ready to leave, a Kimbap Nara delivery driver knocked on the door. I opened the door for him and tried to explain that I hadn't ordered food - apparently there has been a mix-up since I ordered food for my co-workers one time, and now the restaurant has our apartment associated with their phone number. Either the driver didn't understand my limited Korean, or he was dissatisfied with it, so I ended up arguing with him for about ten minutes until I called the coworkers who had ordered the food and got them to come over and get it.
I tried to shrug it off as I headed toward the bus stop to catch the bus to head to the jimjilbang. Right as I got to the bus stop, the bus I needed to catch was driving away, so I had to sit and wait in the rain for the next one - then, when I got off, I headed the wrong way down the street and walked around for about twenty minutes before I found it. After asking for directions from a cashier at Cafe Lemon Table, I finally found the place, soaked my sore muscles, and ate a giant bowl of dumpling soup.
I was feeling refreshed and relaxed until I left, when I realized that I had stayed past midnight and that the buses had stopped running. I tried to walk home and got turned around at the five-way intersection, which meant that I wandered into an unfamiliar neighborhood and got lost with no cash for a cab. I had to go to a PC bang to ask where the nearest ATM was, so that I could pull cash and then flag a taxi.
Needless to say, I did not join the party that night.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Dogs and Math/Cães e matemática
I have been studying Japanese on and off for nearly four years now. Language self-study comes with its own unique challenges, and it requires a special kind of discipline, but I would say that I haven't done too badly for myself - I have a Japanese conversation partner who lives outside of Tokyo that I Skype with about twice a week, and she assures me that my Japanese is pretty good. (Taking into consideration that she is Japanese, and is unfailingly polite, I am not quite sure how much salt I should take it with, but I will still take it.) One of the interesting things that comes with language self-study in this age, however, is the online community of people that are learning the same language. You can find some really awesome resources on the forums of language-learning website, and they are an amazing trove of information about the country and culture, particularly the Japanese language learning community. I am not as plugged into it as I once was, but I used to browse those forums almost every day looking for podcasts and places to practice reading and memorizing things like hiragana and katakana.
Along with actual language resources, there was a lot of commentary on Japanese people, their culture and mannerisms, and what it was like for foreigners (particularly Westerners) to live and work in Japan. One thing that I thought was very interesting to read were accounts of reactions that people got to their ability to speak Japanese. Expats always assured learners that any effort to speak Japanese would be greeted with pleasant surprise and would make things easier, but some people found it annoying after a while. One guy posted a comment that the common Japanese reaction to a foreigner speaking the language was shock and a kind of bizarre fascination, sort of like "Wow, look - that dog can do math!"
Some days, we feel the same way about how some of our Korean co-workers treat us. Obviously we know that none of it is intended to be malicious or rude - they are concerned for our general well-being, and they know that life in a foreign country can be overwhelming at times, so I am sure that it is all meant to be helpful. Nonetheless, some days we really wonder if they think we are completely incompetent and helpless.
For example, one day at work my husband was talking to one of our newer American co-workers in the small office (my desk is in the big office).
Megan: Hey, what's the Korean word for 'no'?
Husband: It's 아니요 [aniyo].
Korean co-worker: [shocked] How do you know that?!
Husband: Well, I've been studying Korean for the past four months.
KC: What?! You are studying Korean?!!
Husband: Yeah. I understand a lot more than most of you think I do.
He relayed an even more interesting conversation with a different co-worker that happened that same week.
KC: So what did you do this weekend, Joel?
Husband: Oh, I went downtown and just hung out with people.
KC: Oh, you mean people from work?
Husband: No, some of my other friends.
KC: [shocked] You have friends?
Husband: Yeah...
KC: Are they other foreigners?
Husband: Some are foreigners, some are Korean.
KC: [incredulous] You have Korean friends?
Husband: Yes...
KC: ...How?
This conversation was pretty shocking to the rest of our Western co-workers when Joel retold it, and he was (understandably) mildly insulted by the suggestion that he would be unable to make friends. But our Korean co-workers are generally very nice people, and I don't believe they mean to suggest that we are helpless. Still, we get this kind of reaction all the time; most of them were blown away that Joel and I explored the city our first weekend here, or that we were able to find our way around to any restaurants at all. We figured that they had visions of us cowering in our apartment and subsisting off of the bread, jam, and choco pies that our employer bought us.
The whole experience has gotten me thinking a lot about how these kinds of attitudes and preconceptions can marginalize people. While we try to be understanding and give people the benefit of the doubt, it is insulting to encounter the constant shock that we, as immigrants, are able to do simple things for ourselves, or that we would try to learn the language (in fact, many Koreans are completely floored that we even know how to read). WeI were talking about it earlier this week, and how frustrating it is for people to assume that we would be the kinds of expats who don't want to learn about the culture we are in and refuse to try to do things on our own. Then I asked him, "Do we do that to people back home?"
"To a certain extent, yes."
"But to whom? To immigrants? I never felt like I acted that way toward foreigners."
"You do that to just about anybody who is different from you. Maybe we don't do it so much with immigrants, but to minorities. Think of how frustrating it would be for an educated Black person to talk to someone who was shocked that they had a degree. Like, 'You graduated from college? You wentto college?' No one does it on purpose, but it's a natural reaction to someone who is different from you."
I found the prospect highly disturbing. How many stereotypes do we carry around with us subconsciously, especially if we are from a racial or ethnic majority, that affect the way we talk to and treat people? What does it do to a person's self-esteem if they have to take those kinds of comments their entire life? And how would those kinds of attitudes affect my work in public health?
My husband let me bounce my thoughts off of him for the next hour or so, and then he smiled (with only a hint of mirth) and touched my arm. "Well, this is how you become a better person." Then he got a little more serious. "It's good that you are thinking about this so much. Sometimes I can be too cavalier about it."
Along with actual language resources, there was a lot of commentary on Japanese people, their culture and mannerisms, and what it was like for foreigners (particularly Westerners) to live and work in Japan. One thing that I thought was very interesting to read were accounts of reactions that people got to their ability to speak Japanese. Expats always assured learners that any effort to speak Japanese would be greeted with pleasant surprise and would make things easier, but some people found it annoying after a while. One guy posted a comment that the common Japanese reaction to a foreigner speaking the language was shock and a kind of bizarre fascination, sort of like "Wow, look - that dog can do math!"
Some days, we feel the same way about how some of our Korean co-workers treat us. Obviously we know that none of it is intended to be malicious or rude - they are concerned for our general well-being, and they know that life in a foreign country can be overwhelming at times, so I am sure that it is all meant to be helpful. Nonetheless, some days we really wonder if they think we are completely incompetent and helpless.
For example, one day at work my husband was talking to one of our newer American co-workers in the small office (my desk is in the big office).
Megan: Hey, what's the Korean word for 'no'?
Husband: It's 아니요 [aniyo].
Korean co-worker: [shocked] How do you know that?!
Husband: Well, I've been studying Korean for the past four months.
KC: What?! You are studying Korean?!!
Husband: Yeah. I understand a lot more than most of you think I do.
He relayed an even more interesting conversation with a different co-worker that happened that same week.
KC: So what did you do this weekend, Joel?
Husband: Oh, I went downtown and just hung out with people.
KC: Oh, you mean people from work?
Husband: No, some of my other friends.
KC: [shocked] You have friends?
Husband: Yeah...
KC: Are they other foreigners?
Husband: Some are foreigners, some are Korean.
KC: [incredulous] You have Korean friends?
Husband: Yes...
KC: ...How?
This conversation was pretty shocking to the rest of our Western co-workers when Joel retold it, and he was (understandably) mildly insulted by the suggestion that he would be unable to make friends. But our Korean co-workers are generally very nice people, and I don't believe they mean to suggest that we are helpless. Still, we get this kind of reaction all the time; most of them were blown away that Joel and I explored the city our first weekend here, or that we were able to find our way around to any restaurants at all. We figured that they had visions of us cowering in our apartment and subsisting off of the bread, jam, and choco pies that our employer bought us.
The whole experience has gotten me thinking a lot about how these kinds of attitudes and preconceptions can marginalize people. While we try to be understanding and give people the benefit of the doubt, it is insulting to encounter the constant shock that we, as immigrants, are able to do simple things for ourselves, or that we would try to learn the language (in fact, many Koreans are completely floored that we even know how to read). WeI were talking about it earlier this week, and how frustrating it is for people to assume that we would be the kinds of expats who don't want to learn about the culture we are in and refuse to try to do things on our own. Then I asked him, "Do we do that to people back home?"
"To a certain extent, yes."
"But to whom? To immigrants? I never felt like I acted that way toward foreigners."
"You do that to just about anybody who is different from you. Maybe we don't do it so much with immigrants, but to minorities. Think of how frustrating it would be for an educated Black person to talk to someone who was shocked that they had a degree. Like, 'You graduated from college? You wentto college?' No one does it on purpose, but it's a natural reaction to someone who is different from you."
I found the prospect highly disturbing. How many stereotypes do we carry around with us subconsciously, especially if we are from a racial or ethnic majority, that affect the way we talk to and treat people? What does it do to a person's self-esteem if they have to take those kinds of comments their entire life? And how would those kinds of attitudes affect my work in public health?
My husband let me bounce my thoughts off of him for the next hour or so, and then he smiled (with only a hint of mirth) and touched my arm. "Well, this is how you become a better person." Then he got a little more serious. "It's good that you are thinking about this so much. Sometimes I can be too cavalier about it."
Mountains and Contemplation/Montanhas e contemplação
Mudeung Mountain (or Mudeungsan, as it is lovingly known here), has been one of my favorite leisure activities since moving here. The mountain is a 40-minute bus ride away, and the bus stop is a five-minute walk from our apartment, so I have gone hiking up the mountain four or five times since we arrived in June. It is especially lovely now that the leaves are turning for the fall. I have seen both Jeungsim and Yaksam temples, and about two weeks ago, I finally made it to the top with my co-worker. We made it up in record time (2 hours and 6 minutes), and made it down even faster. She is now my new hero - I thought I was in decent shape from the yoga and walking that I do during the week, but I was struggling to keep up with her!
The weather has been getting cold very quickly lately. I remember all the complaining we did during the summer months, when it was so humid that I had to take two showers a day and poor Joel's hair was wet with sweat. After it cooled down a bit, we had a few weeks of very pleasant weather, but now it drops down to about 40F at night. On top of that, we have had gray skies and light rain on and off for the last few days. We have all been fairly unmotivated to do much these last few days.
On a more positive note, we are starting to get to know the younger priest at our local parish here. I found him on KakaoTalk (a free message service that is pretty much universal here) after going to daily Mass last week, and he took us out to dinner on Friday night. He is a very genuine guy, though a little embarrassed about his English - as most Korean adults tend to be here. Still, it has been nice to actually be able to talk to our parish priest; the ones back home were always too busy to really get to know us. Someone in my family was recently referred to an oncologist, as he may have leukemia; all I had to do was send a message to Fr. Thomas, and he offered to not only pray for him, but to say a Mass for him on Monday.
Life continues as usual here. We just finished another round of exams, along with a Halloween party for the elementary school students. Several of my coworkers and I are planning a hiking trip to Jirisan, a mountain range that is a big national park here in our province, next weekend, and one of my high school friends who is teaching in Seoul may come into town the weekend of my birthday. We are thinking about negotiating an extension of our contract to stay at our school for at least another six months and also planning when we will buy a comforter, an electric blanket, and/or a space heater for the coming winter. Life continues as usual.
What I have found myself doing more than anything else in the months that I have been here has been thinking - thinking about life, my career, family and our family plans, marriage and relationships, and what it means to be a stranger in a strange land. I think I will be a very different person when I finally go home.
The weather has been getting cold very quickly lately. I remember all the complaining we did during the summer months, when it was so humid that I had to take two showers a day and poor Joel's hair was wet with sweat. After it cooled down a bit, we had a few weeks of very pleasant weather, but now it drops down to about 40F at night. On top of that, we have had gray skies and light rain on and off for the last few days. We have all been fairly unmotivated to do much these last few days.
On a more positive note, we are starting to get to know the younger priest at our local parish here. I found him on KakaoTalk (a free message service that is pretty much universal here) after going to daily Mass last week, and he took us out to dinner on Friday night. He is a very genuine guy, though a little embarrassed about his English - as most Korean adults tend to be here. Still, it has been nice to actually be able to talk to our parish priest; the ones back home were always too busy to really get to know us. Someone in my family was recently referred to an oncologist, as he may have leukemia; all I had to do was send a message to Fr. Thomas, and he offered to not only pray for him, but to say a Mass for him on Monday.
Life continues as usual here. We just finished another round of exams, along with a Halloween party for the elementary school students. Several of my coworkers and I are planning a hiking trip to Jirisan, a mountain range that is a big national park here in our province, next weekend, and one of my high school friends who is teaching in Seoul may come into town the weekend of my birthday. We are thinking about negotiating an extension of our contract to stay at our school for at least another six months and also planning when we will buy a comforter, an electric blanket, and/or a space heater for the coming winter. Life continues as usual.
What I have found myself doing more than anything else in the months that I have been here has been thinking - thinking about life, my career, family and our family plans, marriage and relationships, and what it means to be a stranger in a strange land. I think I will be a very different person when I finally go home.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
People Skills/Boa Educação
For most of my life, I have never been the kind of person who makes friends easily. Wherever I went, I usually had a small collection of close friends that I would spend time with individually, but I never really had a social circle per se because I never fit in anywhere. There are some people (like Joel, or my friend who lives in Beijing, or our friend Austin back home) who are naturally gifted at making friends and getting people to like them. I have always been envious of that kind of gift - I'll be the first to admit that I have an overwhelming tendency to come across as abrasive and straightforward. On top of that, a lingering social awkwardness from being made fun of my rich kids during my childhood years makes it impossible for me to strike up conversations with strangers.
Throughout my high school and college years, I put on a façade of being proud of my abrasiveness. This is who I am, I figured, and anyone who doesn't like it doesn't deserve to be my friend and can go f*** themselves. It was a useful defense mechanism until I grew out of it...unfortunately, by then my old habits were so ingrained that I couldn't shake them. I eventually got better and meeting new people, but there were some old friends from college that I was just bitchy to all the time. Even when I wanted to stop, I found myself falling back into familiar patterns of aggressive banter.
As intimidating as it was to be thrust in with a group of complete strangers here in Korea, I was grateful for the opportunity to remake myself. Here was a chance to prove that I could be polite, caring, cheerful, supportive. Helpful. My co-teachers were a clean slate, the chance to prove to the world - or maybe just myself - that I could more than the girl who always finds something to give you a hard time about. Not to be fake, but just to be a more positive version of myself. Or something. By and large it has worked out well so far (I think) - if my co-workers don't like me, they do a damn good job of pretending they do.
Alas, you cannot please everybody all the time unless you are a puppy or a kitten that never throws up on the rug. Some days we are just off...and some days I am still a social idiot.
I upset one of my friends during a conversation at work today. It wasn't anything serious - I jumped into a conversation too quickly because I was trying to be helpful and probably just came across as a know-it-all. People get over that sort of thing. But it spoiled our plans for the evening and left me with a bad taste in my mouth, particularly after spending a whole hour this morning trying (unsuccessfully) to order an effing Halloween costume from G-market. (Different story for a different entry.)
It seems that what I have done more than anything since I have come here has been to think - to think about people and how they tick, how they fit together and get along with each other, how they cope as immigrants or students or teachers or when they are in desperate situations. So tonight, after Joel cooked dinner and took off to play darts, I cleaned the apartment and set off on a nighttime hike to think.
Side note: Cheseok-san (the ridge that runs behind our neighborhood) is quiet and well-lit at night. It was a lovely walk.
I thought about why I had jumped into the conversation in the first place, why it had bothered my friend, and why the fact that I had butted heads with my friend in such a small way affected me so much. Before we came here, while it still would have bothered me, I would have more or less shrugged it off after appropriate apologies were made, but that was then - when I still thought of myself as a lone wolf of sorts. I realized that since coming here, one of the things I have wanted most is for people to like me.
Turns out that when you actually care what people think, sticking your foot in your mouth stings a lot more.
The point of this isn't to fish for compliments, or solicit support, or anything like that. I apologized, and things are fine - relationship speedbumps are a fact of life. It is simply one of many reflections that I have had since coming here.
Throughout my high school and college years, I put on a façade of being proud of my abrasiveness. This is who I am, I figured, and anyone who doesn't like it doesn't deserve to be my friend and can go f*** themselves. It was a useful defense mechanism until I grew out of it...unfortunately, by then my old habits were so ingrained that I couldn't shake them. I eventually got better and meeting new people, but there were some old friends from college that I was just bitchy to all the time. Even when I wanted to stop, I found myself falling back into familiar patterns of aggressive banter.
As intimidating as it was to be thrust in with a group of complete strangers here in Korea, I was grateful for the opportunity to remake myself. Here was a chance to prove that I could be polite, caring, cheerful, supportive. Helpful. My co-teachers were a clean slate, the chance to prove to the world - or maybe just myself - that I could more than the girl who always finds something to give you a hard time about. Not to be fake, but just to be a more positive version of myself. Or something. By and large it has worked out well so far (I think) - if my co-workers don't like me, they do a damn good job of pretending they do.
Alas, you cannot please everybody all the time unless you are a puppy or a kitten that never throws up on the rug. Some days we are just off...and some days I am still a social idiot.
I upset one of my friends during a conversation at work today. It wasn't anything serious - I jumped into a conversation too quickly because I was trying to be helpful and probably just came across as a know-it-all. People get over that sort of thing. But it spoiled our plans for the evening and left me with a bad taste in my mouth, particularly after spending a whole hour this morning trying (unsuccessfully) to order an effing Halloween costume from G-market. (Different story for a different entry.)
It seems that what I have done more than anything since I have come here has been to think - to think about people and how they tick, how they fit together and get along with each other, how they cope as immigrants or students or teachers or when they are in desperate situations. So tonight, after Joel cooked dinner and took off to play darts, I cleaned the apartment and set off on a nighttime hike to think.
Side note: Cheseok-san (the ridge that runs behind our neighborhood) is quiet and well-lit at night. It was a lovely walk.
I thought about why I had jumped into the conversation in the first place, why it had bothered my friend, and why the fact that I had butted heads with my friend in such a small way affected me so much. Before we came here, while it still would have bothered me, I would have more or less shrugged it off after appropriate apologies were made, but that was then - when I still thought of myself as a lone wolf of sorts. I realized that since coming here, one of the things I have wanted most is for people to like me.
Turns out that when you actually care what people think, sticking your foot in your mouth stings a lot more.
The point of this isn't to fish for compliments, or solicit support, or anything like that. I apologized, and things are fine - relationship speedbumps are a fact of life. It is simply one of many reflections that I have had since coming here.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Travels, Visitors, and My New Smartphone Addiction/Viagens, Visitantes e Meu Novo Vício
Joel and I concluded our Kyoto trip on October 3. The day after my last blog post, we went to Nanzen-ji and Eikan-do temples, walked the Path of Philosophy (which, curiously, had about as many stray cats as it did tourists), and then finished the day at Ginkaku-ji (the Silver Pavilion), which was absolutely gorgeous and probably my favorite place that we visited. We spent our last day in Arashiyama (the western part of the city) and visited Tenryu-ji (Temple of the Sky Dragon), the Okouchi-sansou villa, and Gio-ji temple. We also walked through the bamboo grove and Sagano, which is a really pretty district with cobblestone streets and a lot of souvenir shops and tea shops. Eventually I will harass Joel to post all of the pictures on Facebook, so look for them there.
We came back from vacation and stumbled through Thursday and Friday at work. We will definitely have to take advantage of our weekends now, since we will not have any more long vacations until the calendar new year. As much as I have enjoyed traveling, I think it will be nice to settle down a little bit and try to save a little more money.
Meanwhile, Joel's parents are in town to visit us for about a week. They arrived last week on Friday night, so we have been showing them around town and taking them to our favorite restaurants. It has been a nice even mix of things: yesterday, we took them hiking on the trail behind our neighborhood (which I'm pretty sure is on a mountain called Jeseoksan, if I'm reading the signs right), and today Joel took them to the Kimchi Festival, which is happening in Gwangju right now. I was pretty bummed that I could go, too, but I had the world's worst headache. Literally. Anyway, tomorrow Joel is planning to take them to the 5.18 Memorial Park, and then we will go hiking on Mudeung mountain on Wednesday morning before they head out on Thursday.
The major event this week was my serendipitous receipt of a second-hand smartphone and subsequent addiction. Allow me to explain.
Joel and I have been attending a Catholic church just down the street from our apartment complex (on the way to the outdoor market) since we first arrived, but for whatever reason, the priests did not notice me until I went to Mass last Sunday. After the service, they visited with me briefly on my way out and introduced themselves as Fr. Bernard and Fr. Thomas. When I went back for daily Mass on Wednesday, however, the younger of the two priests (Fr. Thomas) flagged me down on my way out and gave me a booklet with the Order of the Mass in ten different languages.
Fr. Thomas: Jessica! I think you need this! *as he hands me the booklet*
me: Oh, thank you very much! This is wonderful.
Fr. T: Are you busy?
me: Not especially.
Fr. T: Do you like...espresso?
me: Yes.
Fr. T: Ah, please come.
So we go into his office, where he has an espresso machine, and he makes us each a cup as we sit down to chat. This guy is pretty interesting: not only does he speak some Japanese and have a hobby of drawing anime cartoons, he is also in a band (and he gave me two of their CDs).
Fr. T: Do you have MP3 player?
me: No, I don't. I had a little iPod, but I didn't bring it with me.
Fr. T: Ah, but maybe you can use phone for music.
me: Actually, I don't have a smartphone. My husband and I share a cell phone, but it is an old little 2G phone. We have never owned smartphones.
Now, it is important to understand that South Koreans are super-connected; you can see everyone from high school students to construction workers glued to their phones as you pass them on the sidewalk. My only explanation for what happened next is that this wonderful priest saw my lack of a smartphone as a very obvious poverty, and that he was determined to remedy it.
Fr. T: Actually, I have extra phone.
me: What?
Fr. T: Yes! *he pulls an older Galaxy phone out of his bottom desk drawer* Someone leave this phone here in church! I find this one and I call him and say, 'I found your phone! Please come and take it,' and he say, 'Okay, I will come,' but he did not come. It is six month ago. So...if you don't mind, you can have this one.
me: I can have it?!
Fr. T: Ah...borrow!
me: ...Really?
Fr. T: Yes!
me: ...Okay.
At first I wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but after some of my students showed me a few tricks, I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Unfortunately, that now means I am completely addicted to my new device. I have installed Laudate (which is the absolute greatest app ever for the practicing Catholic), two different messenger apps (one for everyone here in SK, and one for m friend in China), Facebook, Skype, Google Translate, and Google Reader. I have to resist the temptation to ask if everywhere we are going has Wifi. I am always checking the phone for new messages and new updates. And now I have a new challenge: I have to figure out how to enable USB storage on the thing so I can put music and pictures from the computer onto it.
Ah, first world problems.
We came back from vacation and stumbled through Thursday and Friday at work. We will definitely have to take advantage of our weekends now, since we will not have any more long vacations until the calendar new year. As much as I have enjoyed traveling, I think it will be nice to settle down a little bit and try to save a little more money.
Meanwhile, Joel's parents are in town to visit us for about a week. They arrived last week on Friday night, so we have been showing them around town and taking them to our favorite restaurants. It has been a nice even mix of things: yesterday, we took them hiking on the trail behind our neighborhood (which I'm pretty sure is on a mountain called Jeseoksan, if I'm reading the signs right), and today Joel took them to the Kimchi Festival, which is happening in Gwangju right now. I was pretty bummed that I could go, too, but I had the world's worst headache. Literally. Anyway, tomorrow Joel is planning to take them to the 5.18 Memorial Park, and then we will go hiking on Mudeung mountain on Wednesday morning before they head out on Thursday.
The major event this week was my serendipitous receipt of a second-hand smartphone and subsequent addiction. Allow me to explain.
Joel and I have been attending a Catholic church just down the street from our apartment complex (on the way to the outdoor market) since we first arrived, but for whatever reason, the priests did not notice me until I went to Mass last Sunday. After the service, they visited with me briefly on my way out and introduced themselves as Fr. Bernard and Fr. Thomas. When I went back for daily Mass on Wednesday, however, the younger of the two priests (Fr. Thomas) flagged me down on my way out and gave me a booklet with the Order of the Mass in ten different languages.
Fr. Thomas: Jessica! I think you need this! *as he hands me the booklet*
me: Oh, thank you very much! This is wonderful.
Fr. T: Are you busy?
me: Not especially.
Fr. T: Do you like...espresso?
me: Yes.
Fr. T: Ah, please come.
So we go into his office, where he has an espresso machine, and he makes us each a cup as we sit down to chat. This guy is pretty interesting: not only does he speak some Japanese and have a hobby of drawing anime cartoons, he is also in a band (and he gave me two of their CDs).
Fr. T: Do you have MP3 player?
me: No, I don't. I had a little iPod, but I didn't bring it with me.
Fr. T: Ah, but maybe you can use phone for music.
me: Actually, I don't have a smartphone. My husband and I share a cell phone, but it is an old little 2G phone. We have never owned smartphones.
Now, it is important to understand that South Koreans are super-connected; you can see everyone from high school students to construction workers glued to their phones as you pass them on the sidewalk. My only explanation for what happened next is that this wonderful priest saw my lack of a smartphone as a very obvious poverty, and that he was determined to remedy it.
Fr. T: Actually, I have extra phone.
me: What?
Fr. T: Yes! *he pulls an older Galaxy phone out of his bottom desk drawer* Someone leave this phone here in church! I find this one and I call him and say, 'I found your phone! Please come and take it,' and he say, 'Okay, I will come,' but he did not come. It is six month ago. So...if you don't mind, you can have this one.
me: I can have it?!
Fr. T: Ah...borrow!
me: ...Really?
Fr. T: Yes!
me: ...Okay.
At first I wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but after some of my students showed me a few tricks, I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Unfortunately, that now means I am completely addicted to my new device. I have installed Laudate (which is the absolute greatest app ever for the practicing Catholic), two different messenger apps (one for everyone here in SK, and one for m friend in China), Facebook, Skype, Google Translate, and Google Reader. I have to resist the temptation to ask if everywhere we are going has Wifi. I am always checking the phone for new messages and new updates. And now I have a new challenge: I have to figure out how to enable USB storage on the thing so I can put music and pictures from the computer onto it.
Ah, first world problems.
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