5 Days

Have you ever tried to type with a broken finger? No? It's ridiculously difficult. Thus, my absence is explained.

I have five days left in Korea, and every time I talk to family or friends back home it's always the same question: are you excited to come home? It really is a simple question, but the answer surely isn't. How do I say goodbye to a country that's been my home for 13 months or goodbye to friends who are the only people in the world who understand what it's like to live here. No one back home will understand the stories or the struggles of this past year like these people do. My heart is full of joy when I think of my past year here is Korea and breaks when I have to think about leaving. But then I see pictures of the nephew I haven't met yet, or friends send emails asking me to teach them Gangnam style, or requesting to make plans to eat at favorite restaurants and my heart is full of joy again. So you see, I can't answer that question. I'm leaving one life to return to an old one; one that's not really old anymore, but changed entirely.

When I was in Japan over Cheosuk, my travel buddy and dear friend Zara asked the question,"How are we ever to go back to normal lives after this?" Now, we were probably sitting beside the river in Kyoto after having seen the Imperial Palace or some beautiful thing in Japan which is totally not normal at all, but all I could think was how Frodo (enter nerd moment) said the same thing at the end of "Return of the King". How do I go back to normal? Life abroad isn't normal. At all. I can go to Japan or China for a long weekend. I can save enough money in a year to almost pay for grad school  (didn't do that this year, but it could be done). I can have friends from all over the world and be immersed in 7 different cultures at once. It certainly isn't or hasn't been easy, but I remember these moments and am reminded about how beautiful this last year has been. Which is why I want to do it again, and again, and again. Trust me, I don't want to be in Korea forever, but this year has taught me that I love being an expat. I love living in different cultures and adapting. I meet some of the most wonderful people when I live abroad, and all I can think is that there are so many more people to meet, so much food I need to try, so many languages I can dip my toe into. Think of all the roads left untaken, Robert Frost. I have to go. I have to take them.

I don't know if my life will ever be "normal", as Zara put it, again. I don't know where I'll even be in four months (plan is Korea for round 2), but I do know that I enjoy this life and the joy and experience of it all is worth the heartbreak of not being at home, missing family, and saying goodbye to beautiful people all the damn time. I cannot compare holding my newborn nephew to touring Kyoto, Japan (which is what I was doing when he was born). It will forever be a thing I missed and my heart hurts thinking about it, but my time in Japan is something that will be with me forever as well, and that experience is something I'll cherish.

I don't know how expats do this living abroad thing. I don't know how I didn't cry like an ugly Claire Danes Juliet in "Romeo and Juliet" when I missed Christmas, but I like this life, as strange as that might sound. At this point in my Korea journey I'm reminded of my goodbye times in South Africa and Ireland and having to say goodbye to my friends that I'd made there. My heart was wrenched every time. It is honestly painful to build relationships with so many people and then say goodbye, knowing you'll probably never see them again. There are a million hellos, a million goodbyes, and a million heartbreaks. Every. Damn. Time. It's something that shakes me to deep to the core. There are some relationships that will last and others, even though we say we'll stay in touch, I know from experience, we won't. Some friends will cross the world to reunite and others will fade.

I remember praying in the airport at RDU for the Lord to grow me and let me experience things that would stretch me and teach me, and that prayer has been answered. The lesson that he has brought before me most consistently is to have unfailing trust. Trust that the bus won't go off the cliff, that the doctor won't kill me during surgery, trust for my future, my job, and my finances. This has been the greatest lesson this year. I must trust and put my hope in him. I surely couldn't do it all alone.

When people ask, "why are you coming back", here's my answer:

Surgery in Korea

Momma, stop reading and get a box of tissues. I know you. Grab some tissues now.

He looked down at me, and all I could see were his eyes over the surgical mask.
"Are you nervous?"
"Yes, very."

Three hours before I had been asked to get naked. That should have been the first sign.
"Jennypah? You get naked ok?"
"Um..."
"Here. Put this on."

I sat in my oversized surgical top and too short pants and waited for three hours in an open emergency ward, where patient lie next to patient and nurses sat in chairs waiting for doctors to direct them. My contact from LG had to leave and return to work. When I asked if he would be here when I finished he said no, I would have to take the hour bus ride back to Naju, alone. It was here I became a little undone. I was going to be alone? No translator, no familiar face. Just me. I texted friends, read a book, and prayed that my anxiety would abate. Ha.

In Korean hospitals, it is the families' job to provide emotional care to a patient. Unlike America where I can rely on nurses to make sure I'm holding up ok, ask if I need anything, reassure me and talk to me, these Korean nurses stayed on the opposite side of the room and administered shots (four that day) and told me to get naked. It isn't because of a language barrier. It's just how things work. Hospital beds are accompanied with a small cot for the family member to sleep on. And so there I was, alone, looking at the nurses, trying to get a reassuring smile out of one of them. I needed them to know I was scared and needed a friendly gesture. Nothing.

Then two intern nurses told me (hand gestures) that it was time and to follow them. I wheeled my IV stand using my good hand, and tried to get around everything without jostling the IV in one arm, the open needle cone thingy on the other, and not use my broken finger. As I entered the elevator, the stand got stuck and I looked to the TWO nurses to help. Nope. They watched as I had to maneuver the stand out of a hole and pick it up with hands covered in splints and wires. Nice-uh. Turns out we had gone the wrong way, had to go through the elevator fiasco again without help, and we went back to my bed, where I was wheeled out by an orderly.

He left me in a hallway outside of a room where they were performing a surgery, and the nerves took hold. A friend I met when I first arrived had surgery to remove a cyst before I came to Korea, and he recounted his tale about how his local anesthesia wore off quickly and the doctor told him to endure. It was all I could think about as I waited in that hallway. They were only going to numb my arm, and I was terrified that I would be able to feel as they drilled two pins in my bone. Surgery was going to last an hour, and I would just lie there listening as they slowly made me into a robot.

After the doctor heard that I was nervous, he simply smiled and wheeled me into surgery. They put straps across my legs and waist, and then strapped both arms down crucifix style. I was going no where. They strung a sheet between my arm and my face, and turned my head so that I was looking directly at the anesthesiologist.
"If you feel pain, you tell me."
"Absolutely yes."

My upper arm started to tingle as they began to numb me, but I could still feel my hand, and that, my friends, is when shit got real.  They picked up my hand and squeezed my fingers together to shove on a compression sleeve. I felt the pain of my broken bone being squished by this doctor's hand and gasped. The doctor looked at me with wide eyes, and as a few tears of fear ran sideways, I whispered,

아파요. It hurts.

He shouted at the other doctors and the last thing I saw was that blissful, beautiful needle full of the good stuff. I woke up two hours later groggy and disappointed at myself. I was wheeled back to where I started and asked to change into a much smaller Korean sized shirt. The nurses turned their backs and walked away as I struggled to change shirts with an IV, a heavily bandaged finger with blood still splattered on my hand, and still groggy from meds. I was disappointed that I had cried in front of the doctors, that I hadn't been able to endure the pain, and so in need of a hug that I started to sob a bit. An ahjumma visiting a relative in the bed next to me looked over and made a beeline for me. She took the sheet I was trying to wrap around me to hide what the too small shirt could not, draped it over my shoulders, talked to me gently, and then hugged me. I said a small prayer thanking God for that small gesture that was such an extreme blessing to me.

God taught me a few things through this. 1. Be grateful and thank your nurses back home. 2. Have someone go with you to a hospital. Always. 3. That my independence can be my downfall. I am so proud to be independent, and happy that I am, but there are times when you just have to have help. As much as I would like to say I'm tough and strong, can endure much, at the end of the day, I still need a hug.

Korean medicine is great. I don't live in a third world country. My finger is healing beautifully and my medicine is wonderful. The whole procedure cost about $150, and I don't regret having the surgery (even though it was necessary anyway), but it would be nice if the nurses and staff acted like they cared, especially to a foreign white girl who's having trouble putting on clothes.

Injured and the Hospital

An innocent game of volleyball turned into tragedy this past weekend. Yes, I've broken my first bone. I've knocked a piece of my bone clean off from it's family, and it's just floating around, inside my finger. Oh come on, the fingers are mighty important. 

On Monday I talked with my assistant and he took me to the hospital, and God bless Korean hospitals. Back home, with a broken finger you're looking at a 6 hour wait at least, but here I was in and out in an hour with x-rays and everything. I thought for sure that I would be splinted and taped and sent on my way. No. Of course not. Nothing is ever that simple. That wee little piece of bone has to pinned back into place. Surgery. In Korea. 

So goes my life. More details after the whole ordeal is over on Friday. 

Until then...

I just want to understand.

The best advice I could give anyone who moves to a foreign country with a new language that you should probably learn that language. I have learned enough Korean to hold a small conversation, and I understand much more Korean than I can speak, but sadly, it's no where near enough to help me in some situations. Situations like going to the bank to wire money to a bank in Malaysia for your upcoming holiday. For your entertainment and my humility, I present to you said situation at the bank.

Me:안녕하세요
Bank Manager (had a guy at LG call ahead and I got to deal with the manager):안녕하세요
Me: um,와이어 돈?
Manager: ah 내.어디에?
Me:말레이시아
Manager: Bank book?
Me: 내
(The following is not real Korean, so don't bother typing it into google translate.)
Manager: 비니ㄴㅎ꺁.퍄?
Me: ...
Manager:니ㅏㅇ럼브쟈비모노주?
Me: ...
Manager: account number in Malaysia?
Me: OH! Yes, I have it.
Manager: 퍄미렄틏ㅍ?
Me: I...uh...um...sorry.
Manager: 프캬미ㅑㅈㅜㄴㅃ?...(sigh) uh...wait a moment
Me: ok (ohgodohgodohgod what did he say?)
Manager hands me a phone. "Here"
Me: Hello?
Stranger: He say that you have to have address of bank in Malaysia. You don't have address then it will be difficult.
Me: (It isn't already!?) oh ok thank you.
Manager: Understand, yes?
Me: 내,감사합니다. 죄송합니다.
Manager: 내, 내.

And that people, is everyday life.

Things I Learned on Vacation

Malaysia was...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamazing. Period. Done. No questions asked. I visited this little hidden away gem of a tropical country for ten days during the month of Ramadan, which made it even more interesting and adventerous for me as I haven't experienced Islamic culture enough.

Throughout those ten days, I learned quite a bit. Allow me to indulge your starved brains. I mean, it has been quite a while since CAC has had some new material.

1. Bravery has nothing to do with a picture posted on facebook.

As you can see, I was certainly "very brave" when I held this boa constrictor. Even more so when his wee little head started moving upwards towards my own. That sick little forked tongue slithering in and out, tasting my shirt. I held it together people. But the picture you don't see is at night when bats, of all sizes, would come out, darting in and out of sight, screeching with their little high pitched squeals. No wait. That squeal was my own. I would run from cabin to resturant and back waving my arms wildly and squealing because surely, that scares the bats away and protects me from any fluttering winged creature.


2. I have stopped asking, "What's in this?" or "What is this?" I just eat.
What part of the chicken is this? Is this chicken? Is it even a bird? Nope, just give it a sniff, a little lick, and pop it in. Questions and doutbts are for the weak.
Although, I'm still not sure what that piece of meat is on the right.

*By the way, food in Malaysia is scrumptious. Fruits spilling off trays, fresh squeezed juice by the litre, mango vegetable curry that will make you call out for your momma, and all of it Ramadan friendly.

3. I am SO SO happy I know how to use one of these. You have certainly passed into another level of "well seasoned traveler" when you see one of these and assume the position without grimacing. Happy squatting.

4. Rudeness is something that evokes a pleathora of emotions. On initial encounter, I'm disgusted. When it continues for twenty minutes, I'm amazed. When it's over, I'm laughing so hard my sides hurt and tears are streaming down my eyes.
On a forty minute taxi drive from the airport to the jetty, our taxi drive started burping ten minutes into the journey. I was sitting up front (of course) and hid my distaste as best as possible. My friends in the back got quiet and listened. We waited for it to abate. No. It didn't. For thirty minutes, this taxi driver would burp then breathe then burp then breathe. When the taxi stopped and we got out, we screamed with laughter. As he drove away we all wondered how that is even possible, and how can one person have that much gas in them.


5. A shanty restaurant on the side of the road probably has the best food. Forgo the fancy table clothes and trade it for the side of the road place that only has two options.

6. An elephant is not a comfortable mode of transportation. The hair is coarse and their ears sting your legs when they slap you.

7. Try everything. Even if you don't really want to. You'll regret it if you don't. Hold the snake, jump in with the sharks, visit that part of town or that island, and walk away from your trip thinking only about how fantastic everything was. And maybe perhaps that you should have taken more photos.

s

I need a vacation

America is a very dangerous country.

How could he buy many guns?

How did he buy bombs?

Everyone has guns in America.

I heard on news, 30 people die a day in America from guns.

That was my Monday morning class. My response was to snap at my loveliest of students and say that I don't know, people are crazy, no I don't own a gun, dear God let's just talk about something else like prepositions of time.

Then my air con stopped working in the classroom and the eight men in the class are all trying to figure out what's wrong, pressing buttons, standing in front of the thing waving their arms (because that helps), and when I finally asked, after being ignored for ten minutes, "Is it out of coolant?" Ahhhh, yes. You are genius Jennifer.

My air con in my apartment isn't working so I'm surviving the 98-100 degree weather with two fans. Now, my internet in the apartment doesn't work either. 

I need a vacation. And I'm going on one. In two days. So bring it on Korea. Bring on your heat, your faulty electronics, and your men who can't fix nothing (I just need air con!) because in two days, I'll be on a beach in Malaysia. I'll be swinging in a hammock strung up between two palm trees, drinking from a coconut, phone turned off, with no sounds but the waves and tropical birds. I'll have good friends beside, and we'll be lazy from the heat, and drunk off the jungle breeze. My biggest worry will be if I should go snorkeling or kayaking in the afternoon. 

Reality, thou art an evil shrew, and I bid you adieu. 

Cruel, Cruel Summer

I fumble for my keys, sweat rolls into my eyes, coating my contacts and blinding me with a burning, flashing pain. I stumble into the apartment, drop every bag and kick off every shoe, run to the bathroom in a clumsy race against the sweat that is most likely destroying my retinas, and dip my head under a rush of blissfully glacial water. Then I drip to the bed where I collapse and pray that the two fans posted at my bed will lower my body temperature.

It's summer. It's hot, and I'm from the south. I'm used to hot and humidity. A humidity so disgustingly thick you can see the haze of the sauna like moisture hanging in the air. A humidity you know will curl your always straight hair and fill your lungs like a dehumidifier. I played volleyball in an un-airconditioned gym in high school, and grew up mowing a two acre yard in the middle of July, where I dodged bugs the size of my head and air so thick I didn't want to breathe. So, needless to say I fare better than some here. Those poor poor souls who wail and beat their chests crying to the sky, complaining to the heavens and asking why hell has come to earth.

I can take the heat, but my body shows that I'm disgusted with the heat. My hair poofs up into a wee little fro, curls that didn't exist in winter, spring up like unsightly weeds around my head. I sweat and try to wear clothes that can camouflage the appearance of such an offensive bodily function (i.e. dark clothes). It seems to be a waste though. I'm nothing compared to the natives. They are an unmovable force, a rock that the sun beats against and cannot wear down. Women wear their thick, long hair down, and there is no frizz or unwanted curl. They simply glow, not even glisten as us southern women supposedly do in our southern summers that come from Satan himself. Men wear jeans and there are no pit stains or sweat dripping around their brow or down their faces to betray how hot it really is. They buy cheap plastic hand held fans and stir the thick air around them, faining to be disturbed by the heat, while the poor foreigner on the bus collapses into a seat and hurriedly adjust the air con vents above them, swearing that they're not going to make it. They will, perhaps, die on the bus, and people will believe them to be asleep, but all the while their corpse just rots in the heat. We stare at these Korean beauties and wonder how they can maintain such looks, such un-waverable control of themselves.

It's a cruel summer, but what is crueler are the Koreans that seem to make a mockery of our misery, what with their cool looks of a dry forehead and silky maintained hair. They wave their little fans, while the rest of us flock to Baskin Robbins for that ice cream that promises to cool us off, a coffee shop for something, anything, iced. We shuffle around town zombie like, seeking some sweet oasis from the anguish of the stifling atmosphere that promises to suffocate us all. So cruel this summer land that offers a slow death. So cruel, this land of sweat.

Look Momma, I'm a rockstar

It's no joke Momma, I'm a rockstar. I told you when I was four that I wanted to be famous. I packed my Raggedy Ann bag with my belongings, grasped the front door knob with my tiny toddler fist, and told you and Dad that I was running away. I was going to be famous and since my parents obviously didn't recognize my talent, I was taking off. You and Dad looked up from your books, asked if I had clean underwear, and wished me luck.

23 years later and I'm a rockstar...in Korea. Being a foreigner has it's perks (sometimes not). I've talked about staring before, and it still annoys me. Some days I'll opt not go to the grocery store or run an errand because I don't want to be gawked at. But I'm not just talking about the staring; this is more about the interactions I have had in this country that make me feel super rockstarish. I'm a celeb. I'm famous. I'm a hot mess really. Everything from the crazy fanatic fans to the Koreans who are disturbed by my presence, we all know it's going to cause a disturbance. 

The Crazy Fanatic: akin to the paparazzi 

Those teenagers who are superexcitedtospeakenglish. They shout, no wait, they scream "HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU!" when you're two feet in front of them. Jesus. The first few times this happened I smiled politely and said hello back. Now I just scream back "HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU TOO!" Now, I don't know if the teenagers are just being jerks or if they believe that if they scream then I'll understand, but you gotta go with it. It's a part of the life of a superstar. 

The Shy Ones: 

These are mostly little kids, but can include Korean guys who are famous for being "shy guys". The wee ones will see me, do a double take, break into a huge smile, or look at us as if they can't quite figure out what is so different. Moms usually prod their little angels into saying hello, waving, or bowing. The Korean shy guy does a double take and isn't shy about taking in a good look before moving on. He would probably be completely embarrassed if he knew we see how much he stares, but it's also a big reason I love Korea, so you keep on looking K-boy. My poor guy friends who happen to be with me when I get said attention from kboys. I go all girly and giggly. They slap their hands to their foreheads and shove me down the sidewalk. Poor foreign boys don't get the same attention that the girls do. 

So Sweet:

This group is my favorite. They're the sweet little kids who come up to you on their own and ask you questions, "Where are you from? Do you speak Korean? What's your name?", the guys who say "wow" when you walk by, but then clamp their hands over their mouths when they realize they've spoken out loud, or the sweet ahjummas telling you how beautiful you are and making room for you on the subway. When they speak to you, whether they are four or a college student telling you they like your shirt, it takes a lot of guts. I have the most patience and appreciation for this wee little group. 

You So Nasty: (WARNING: This one is for girls. Sorry boys.) 

Oh the nasties. I have no use for you. Much like the stalkers for the real celebs, this group just creeps you out. I get this group the most here in my little town. You So Nasty is made up of the old men and the horny guys. The old men who stop talking, grunt, and start adjusting their pants when we walk by. It gives me the heebie jeebies just describing it. This group doesn't really care if they're with their girlfriends. While sitting with friends one night at a bar, I had a guy grab my arm and tell me I was beautiful all while his girlfriend held his hand. I appreciate the sentiment, but man have some respect for the girl you're with. This group is most likely to ask to join your group at the bar so they can "practice my English?". I applaud your effort to learn another language and your boldness to approach a group of English speaking strangers, but a restaurant, a small group of friends obviously celebrating something, or a date, is not appropriate place to butt in. 

Something that's really important for me to remember is that, for the most part, if I'm approached then the other person is most likely really nervous and has worked up the courage to talk to me. Learning another language is scary and practicing it with a stranger is even worse. I love having random conversations with strangers. I adore little kids waving at me and smiling at me just because my eyes are blue and I'm two feet taller than their moms. It's not conceited or lack of humbleness. It's me accepting the way a society looks at me (both good and bad) and handling it. Talking slowly with the high schooler who stops me at the MiniStop, bowing my head with respect at the old men and women, and not knocking some guy on his ass because he made some inappropriate gesture or comment. 

'Cause I'm a rockstar Momma. 

Side Effects of Living in a Foreign Land

Just last week I wrote about how people change especially in the context of expat-living. I've had a few people inquire (or meekly ask) as to what kind of changes I see the most. Thus, another list. You guys know I love lists. I mean, come-on, who the hell doesn't? This list is catered to Korea, but you could have the same side effects in other countries. Just ignore number 2 then. 

Top Ten Side Effects of Living in a Foreign Land:

1. You lose the ability to speak in your native tongue. I used to have an extensive vocabulary. I fooled many a people into thinking I was smarter than I really was (muahaha) by using my vast lyrical knowledge. It's all gone. Gone. Vanished. I stand in front of my friends, or stare at my relatives on the computer screen with their little faces in the Skype window, open my mouth, and mush falls out. I've turned into some blubbering, blundering fool. I search and search for the word, "Yeah, she was...um...um. God, what is it? What am I trying to say? It's right on the tip of my tongue. SAD! That's it! Sad. She was sad." Sad indeed.

2. You can identify nearly every kpop song/ kdrama actor on the radio/television. 

3. According to Korean drivers' law, nobody is cutting people off while driving in America. You might also cheer your taxi driver through yellow lights.

4. You tend to complain less. Yes, sweat might be seeping out of every pore because "we have to save energy" and the air-con can't be turned on, but whatever you say isn't nearly as bad as what you probably said back home or as frequent. Things are different here. Come in with that mindset or go home.

5. You call air conditioning air-con.

6. You start to see the value in owning a kindle (the horror!), renting movies from iTunes, and finding a book in English sets your heart to racing.

7. Your iPod becomes your baby. You know exactly where it is all times, if it needs to be fed, and it goes everywhere with you. EVERYWHERE.

8. Your taste in guys/gals change and evolve. I never looked at Korean men before (due to a lack of them in NC), but I'll be damned if these Korean men don't turn my head now. Wowzah. 

9. You start substituting everyday language with the new language you're immersed in. It happens all the time, especially when I talk with people back home. I go into automatic mode and respond in Korean only to be met with looks of distress and confusion. 미안해 

10. That "I'm a planner, and things need to be worked out before I travel" side of you is chucked out the window. Gone. Good-bye. Things go wrong and you roll with it. If you're not easy going, you won't last long. My friends back home know this to be big for me. Everything. Must. Be. Planned. Yeah...about that, not anymore. 

Two Types

I have decided that there are two types of foreigners in Korea. The first is the type that wants to travel, teach, or have adventure, and the second is the type that couldn't make it in their own culture, and were forced to move abroad.

Why is it that I always run into the second type? WHY? I have never met such ignorance and stupidity before I moved abroad, and I taught high schoolers, who thought they were the shit and some who were about as dumb as you could get. Bless their hearts though. They have the excuse that their frontal lobes hadn't fully developed yet. These crackpots here have no excuse whatsoever.

What the Wednesday: Airport Security

I'm from the States so when I get ready to fly I have to prepare myself physically, mentally, and go in confident of body because I could get a pat down. Belts, loose change, shoes, cardigans, jackets, hats-they all come off and away from body.

Not when you live in Korea though.

Best. Airport. Experience. Ever. I flew domestically from Gwangju to Seoul this past weekend, and went through the routine: 3 oz liquids in clear bag at the top of my bag so I easily show the security, wore flip flops to make shoe removal easier, no belt. It was all so very unnecessary. I kept my shoes on, didn't have to take any liquids out of my bag, walked through a metal detector and didn't have a full body scan. Oh no. I walked through. Easy peasy. Then when people would walk through and the detector would go off the would just get a little wave of the metal wand and they were deemed safe. I sat in the airport in complete amazement, thinking, "what the...?!" My New Zealander friend couldn't get over my shock. She had stocked full bottles of shampoo in her bag which I thought was just not done.

Needless to say on the return flight all of the liquidy stuff I bought over the weekend (vanilla extract, expensive shampoo, chocolate frosting) went deep in my bag because I knew I wouldn't have to retrieve it later. In fact, I bought the shampoo just because I knew I could take it on my carry-on luggage. I loved it. Another reason my small sabbatical in America is going to be difficult in adjustment.

Ewww...

Living away from family, friends, and everything that is comfortable really forces a person to examine themselves. When faced with a frustrating situation, how do you handle it? When you're handed a microphone and told to sing or dragged into the middle of a crowd and told to dance, do you shove aside your introverted self and throw down like a k-popper? When men everywhere stare at you and make grunting noises do you flip em' off or walk away as fast as possible?

I've heard it before and I have to agree with the millions of expats who have gone before me: we are not the same when we return home. As humans, we're always changing and evolving. Usually, it comes from growing older and experiencing life as we go along. I feel like for me, and others in a similar state as mine, that it happens much faster for us, as if life happens at a more rapid pace when you live some sort of vagabond life. Stuff that I didn't expect to happen to me happens. I'm thrown into situations all the damn time where I really have to question how it should be handled, and I can't rely on the comfortableness of a shared culture. Even my English speaking friends and I come from different places and the way I respond is strange to them and might (most likely) leave a bad taste in their mouths, where as back home my friends and I would have laughed it off and forgotten about it. It's freaking stressful is what it is.

My relationship with the Lord has been stretched and examined in ways I was hoping for. Before I came I prayed that I would be put through the ringer here. I was in such a stagnant place. Same old same old. I craved a change and a push to experience God in new ways. He's forced me to examine myself over and over. He's pushed/violently shoved me into places where my reaction has made me go, "ewwww". I'm lazy when there's so much to do, important work like stuff, not stuff like washing the sheets. Those can wait till tomorrow. I half do something at work when I'm not used to giving anything less than %100. I react with anger and let my impatient wrath spew all over the helpless villagers.

There are also good changes. I have such a better grasp on my health and a desire to live healthy. I am much more aware of who I am (thanks to all of these strange situations I'm faced with) and happy with the my findings. I'm making plans for the future instead of brushing thoughts away. Although, this weekend when a friend asked what my dream was all I could reply with was to be happy. I don't have much figured out beyond that. I figure I have the basics down though. I find myself running to the Lord instead of a friend when things get really hard. When I need to have a good cry, I find myself crying to him. It's absolutely wonderful. Not beautiful though. I'm so not a pretty cryer.

There are other changes that I'm not sure if they're good or bad. A situation arose recently in which someone shared an opinion on a controversial subject and my thoughts differed so incredibly much that I was concerned that if I shared my opinion I could irreversibly harm the friendship. It was a topic that I felt was important, but I didn't know if it was more important than the friendship. Old Jennifer would have let the person have it. Opinion given, whether you asked for it or not. An opinion so scathing that it wouldn't just singe your eyebrows. Oh no, it would have melted your damn eyeballs out of their sockets. New Jennifer held back and quickly processed what was more important. The friendship. I'm sure the topic will come up again and I won't be able to withhold how I feel about it, but I hope to do so without any melting taking place.

I only have three months left in Korea before I head home and give my family and friends New Jennifer, wrapped up a bit better than when she left, I believe. I was a freaking mess when I left. My fear is if we all will be able to deal with it, or will we all go-ewwwwww. My accent is weird. I was mistaken for a New Zealander this weekend, and sometimes my "a's" sound all British. I can't really stomach western food anymore. The bathroom at What The Book bookstore knows this all too well, as I puked up an entire western style breakfast yesterday. What's going to happen when I really want Chik fil a?! When handed a microphone I'll probably still refuse, but will break it down in front of crowd if asked. I'll refrain from flipping off the men who stare with a sickening lustful look in their eyes and walk quickly by. If we were in the States, though dude, consider yourself lucky if I don't dent your unborn children.

Ewww indeed.

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.” ~ M. Scott Peck

Wanderlust

I absolutely love tonight. It's a Monday, so it automatically sucked when I woke up. Mondays, I hate them. So so so so bad. But this Monday night is good. I just found this website. You can choose where you're leaving from and then you type in "Everywhere" and it literally tells you flight plans and prices for anywhere in the world.  I've already chosen about 17 different flight plans that look deliciously tempting. It makes me feel all Dr. Seuss with all the places I can go. I have feet in my shoes and brains in my head.

Oh good God...I'm going to need more money.

I have a seriously bad case of wanderlust. No cure in sight.


“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” 
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Multiculturalism in a Homogeneous Society

Since college, I've been a firm believer that multiculturalism is a benefit to any society. Add a little spice to your life, a little funk to your rhythm, some pepper to your salt, whatever. Stop being so vanilla. After my first international trip to South Africa, finding friends with different cultural backgrounds became a necessity to my life. I craved the differences, and hungered to learn about their lives, culture, languages. When I traveled to Ireland, it was the same. I got a high from learning the cultural do's and don'ts. It kept me on my toes, made me feel like a small piece to something bigger, and deepened my need for multiculturalism.

When I was in grad school I had to take an education class that focused on multiculturalism (that was ironically taught by a man whose only qualification was that he was half German half African. Other than that, he was a close minded schmuck.). Through that and other ed. classes I began to see how we as humans really truly benefit from being surrounded by people who are different from us, in and out of the classroom.


I would certainly say this is true for Korea as well. Korea, the hermit kingdom, a true homogeneous society, how you should thrive from differences. I've never really run in xenophobia before, but...damn...it can run strong in parts of this country. Like in my wee little town people are sometimes shocked by my presence, unsure of what to do. Options are run, hide, and seek police because surely she is a Russian spy, point, stop where you are, stand with mouth ajar, or pretend like you don't see me and then when I pass you by, turn around and gawk. Other places in Korea are not this bad. Seoul, for example, is a well seasoned veteran of a city and is no longer impressed by foreigners. It still happens. For example this past weekend in Busan an old man stopped directly in my path to laugh and gesture with his hands about my size, then tell me and the guy I was with that his girlfriend (me) was much bigger than he (the friend) was. I understand your Korean, and the fact that you are so not accustomed to seeing differences (and the fact that you should know that's not ok to say) both horrifies me and disgusts me. Please oh please add a little sweet potato pie to your kimchi. Say ya'll with 주세요.


Something that makes me exceedingly happy is having so many friends from all over the world; ones that I've met here and ones that I've met in my other travels. They add something to my life. I see bigger pictures, I have a vast knowledge of slang and mannerisms that I picked up from them all. I say "em" instead of "um", the words "keen, chuck, aigoo, chincha, mulla, how's it, posh, seedy, and lekker are now apart of the regular vocabulary. I love love it.


I hope to raise kids to see multiculturalism as a thing of beauty, and I cannot wait to share my sense of wonder about cultures to the students I'll teach, both here and in the States. I hope to teach them that we can learn from one another; learn that our way might not be the best way, learn to love others regardless of how funny their accents are, not to laugh when you realize that to pronounce their names you have to add clicking noises, learn that ultimately you see the Lord in each of their faces and languages. It's a beautiful thing to go outside of your comfort zone, put yourself out there, and dare to form true relationships with those who are so different from you.


"If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart." ~ Nelson Mandela.

*Photos are totally not mine, but ganked from Facebook. Thanks Becks. 

Grasping at Straws

A few quick thoughts to get the mind thinking about culture this morning and all of its intricacies

On Mondays I always ask my classes to explain what they did over the weekend. It gets conversations started and the English that slept in their brains on Saturday and Sunday a chance to wake up and back into practice. This morning one of my students said that she had been on a business trip Thursday and Friday, then on Saturday she worked until 3am because of a very important presentation, and then on Sunday she had to stop working because she was having trouble breathing. I asked her what the doctor said and when she typed it into her cell phone translator and handed it over to me it said "hyperventilation".
"You were hyperventilating? Wow, I'm sure that was scary."
"Yes. But I am better now."
"What caused you to hyperventilate?"
"The doctor say, I need to take a rest."

The poor girl was exhausted. She looked haggard and worn down, much too tired for a 26 year old. Then the thing I hate most about Korea popped its head into the conversation.

"Oh but, now you look so thin," one of my male students said.
Dude, shut the hell up. This is exactly why so much of the population are making themselves sick: to get thin. This girl now knows that if she can become overworked, she won't eat, and if she doesn't eat, she loses weight. If she loses weight, boys take notice. Women here, who weigh probably 90-100lbs are always talking about dieting. "Oh, I need to lose weight. I'm starting diet tomorrow." I've heard that a bajillion times since I've gotten here. I understand wanting to lose weight. I understand wanting to be healthy, and having a healthy lifestyle, but what I cannot grasp is how this country revolves around losing weight. By any means possible.

My heart breaks for these men and women who lay everything on the importance of appearance, when they will only lose it to time and age anyway.

I cannot grasp why losing weight and being as stickish as possible is more important than being healthy, happy, and satisfied with who you are and then in turn finding people who love you as you appear. I cannot grasp the culture of this and honestly, I hope I never do.

I should be working

I have a ridiculous schedule, ridiculously easy that is. I have a 3.5 hour break between my morning classes and then an hour and 40 minute break between my afternoon classes. Sometimes I'm industrious and studious and amazing and study Korean, clean my house, plan lessons for two weeks, etc. Thennnnn there are other days where I just sit back and look at things like this. Seriously, this girl describes Korea better than I ever could.

Yesterday my two friends and I planned our Malaysia trip, wired money to banks, bought plane tickets, and chatted through facebook to do all of this. One works at a public high school, one at a kindergarten, and me at LG, a world renowned electronics company. Oh the shame of it all.

I should be working...but I'm not.

Wrap it up May

I started an experiment on May 1st. It was pretty simple really, much easier than the chem lab that nearly killed me in uni. All I did was write down something good that happened each day. The purpose was so that I could remember all the goodness that I don't write down and thus forget, and to also see if my attitude changed at all in the course of a month of focusing on the positive.

It was a lot easier for me to be negative at home. I have a few theories on that, but those are theories and shall remain with me. However, one would think that being in a strange place away from family and friends and Chik-fil-a would turn me into a sour person, constantly comparing the US to Korea, always focusing on when Korea let me down, and how different (awful) everything was. That hasn't been the case. I'm pretty positive. Most of the time. More so than a lot of expats I've met over here. Which is surprising because life is already hard here, I mean they don't have Chik-fil-a for God's sake, but why make it harder on yourself by being negative. It drives me insane.

The results were good, amazing actually. Some days I struggled to find something worthy of making the list and others I struggled to write down just one (so I didn't). It dragged May out a bit, but I enjoyed my little experiment. Good to be reminded of all that I've done and experienced. So here you go, another list.

May:
1- Had a surprise day off. Yay Worker's Day!
2- Finished a difficult assignment.
3- Lotte Mart opened in Naju.
4- Bought a bicycle.
5- Went to a birthday party where there were probably 10 countries and nationalities represented. Love multiculturalism!
6- Was beautifully reminded of God's grace and love for me when I fall short.
7- Got organized in my classroom. Felt very teachery. Also, fixed my washing machine.
8- A student told me my Korean was good.  아 싸 !
9- Found a new song. Downloaded it. Listened to it on repeat.
10- Great morning class with lots of laughter, and had an amazing bike ride.
11- Indian meal with honest and hilarious conversation with honest and hilarious friends.
12- Explored a new part of Naju (it had one?) with Aimee.
13- Coffee with Brown Eyes.
14- Found out nephew's name!
15- Got a cake for Teacher's Day.
16- Discovered a cool new blog.
17- Sister got a job!
18- Reaffirmation in a friendship.
19-Spent the most wonderful day at the park where I was exceedingly thankful for lanterns, ice cream, and friends.
20-Sports day at church. Found out I suck at jump rope, but can turn it like no other.
21- Got some major cleaning done, and felt super accomplished afterwards. Seriously guys, it was gross.
22- Finalized plans for Buddha's birthday weekend (rare three day weekend).
23- Fantastic taxi ride with guy who spoke English. He took requests for kpop songs, and was super impressed when I named about twelve for him to choose from.
24- Talked on the phone with a friend for about an hour about absolutely nothing of importance. I hadn't done that in forever, and it made me feel all girly and collegey.
25- Stayed at the most amazing hotel in Busan. First time I had experienced a waterfall shower.
26- Received the best haircut. Ever. By a hot Korean man. Period. Done.
27- First day on the beach since last August. Stayed for six hours, and got a pretty good little tan. Also, met a guy from Georgia in a New Zealand bar. My accent was super thick that night, and it really made me miss southern men who say love, sweetie, honey.
28- Buddha's Birthday=day off!
29- Found the Seoul Subway song and it reminded me of my sister's visit here. Good times.
30- Started planning my summer trip to Thailand. Wish I had more money
31- Thailand was too expensive, sooooo I bought plane tickets to Malaysia instead. Ahhhhh...the white sand beach, the palm trees, the coconuts...

May, you rocked. Thanks for wrapping it up so nicely. On to June. May you treat me oh so kindly.

And for your viewing pleasure:

They joy of it all Part 1

Because I'm so happy, you're going to get this "overly happy yeah I love everything" post. Enjoy.

Before I came to Korea, the Bible verses I needed to get me through the day were always something from Lamentations or Psalms. It was always something like this, "I remember my afflictions and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail." That one's from Lamentations. It was the kind of stuff you needed when you'd lost a love one or if you just couldn't remember the last time you felt hopeful. But I needed them all the time. Great verses and all, but sad at the same time. I was constantly searching for joy, it was a fleeting emotion, and satisfaction in life seemed a Hollywood creation.

Then this wonderful, amazing, crazy, ridicoulous thing happened. I got uncomfortable. That's right. I gave up comfort, a sense of the known, and moved away. The Lord gave me joy, in abundance. It dawned on me this weekend, in a moment of pure contentment as I looked across the park to the Gwangju skyline, sitting beside friends, sunburnt and hungry, that these moments happen so often. There are times that suck. Absolutley. No doubt about that one. Just look up the tag "hating Korea", but those moments happen few and far between. My search for joy isn't a downtrodden attempt to find friends who make me happy and laugh. God gave me those, in abundance. I'm not struggling to maintain hope or strength. God gave me that too, in abundance.

This weekend, I went to a park, arrived sweaty and thirsty, just had a damn good time.  I was with new people I'd never met, some that I'd only known a few months, but have an insanely close relationship with. It's the way it is here. Find a friend and latch on. We're forced to develop these close bonds quickly because we are all too aware of our time here. I love the fact that I was with people from all over the world this weekend, and we found community and joy through sharing a bucket of ice-cream and ten spoons, a volleyball, and a camera. And when we were wrapping up our afternoon and the sky was getting darker, the lanterns put up ahead of Buddha's birthday started to light up, I could feel how full my heart was. I wanted to roll around in all the goodness of it.

A good weekend consists of:

• lots of sunshine
• a good camera
• good food
• people who love to laugh
• the beginnings of a tan (good-bye Korean paleness)
• iced coffee
• so much laughter you get a headache and your face hurts

The Bible has a lot to say about joy. I love discovering those verses and claiming those, all the time.

Those people.

You know when you get so incredibly, obnoxiously, disgustingly lazy and you let things go that you normally wouldn't. Yeah. I'm not like that. I'm not one of those people. Those people who leave dishes all around their room, empty water bottles crowding the desk so much that they have no room for a cell phone charger, much less a laptop. You know the people I'm talking about. The ones who don't put a new trash bag in the garbage and have a million shoes around the doorway because they can't be bothered with it. The only reason the sink isn't full is because they had to wash a cup, spoon, and bowl for dinner that night; they had run out of clean dishes. When they Skype with friends, the friend will ask, "Hey, is that our bra I see hanging in the kitchen?" Clean clothes and dirty clothes piled together, that they just sniff to see if it smells good. Wet clothes still in the washer from two nights ago. I mean gross.

If I was one of those people, I would panic at the thought of having someone enter my domain of chaos. The thought would drive me to paranoia. They would judge you and wrinkle their noses. They would be unable to hide their disgust for your apartment and their distaste for you as a person. If I was one of those people and saw the air conditioning man down the hallway thinking he was heading to my place next, I would probably run into my apartment and begin to frantically clean. Then I would end up throwing away two garbage bags and a heap of recyclables, re-start the washer from two nights ago, and throw all of those clothes (dirty and clean) on my bed and cover it with a blanket.

But I'm not one of those people.

Teenage Boys vs. Korean Men: What's the Difference?

I taught high school. I use the past tense because, well, it happened in the past. Or so I thought. Apparently, I still do. Here's why:

1. Comments About Physical Appearance-
High School: Ms. P what are you wearing?! Wow, please never wear that again.
Korean Men: Ah Jennifer, you have new hair style today. You look like little girl.
Lord help me if I look the least bit tired. They will notice and comment.

2. The Smell-
High school boys smell like sweat, body odor, too much Axe body spray, and that unwashable adolescent smell that all high school boys carry with them. Windows were always open in my classroom.
Korean men smell like the cigarrette they just smoked, last nights soju, or they smell absolutely wonderful in the new cologne their girlfriends bought to help the poor soul.

3. They don't do their homework.

4. They're not highly motivated or passionate about whatever you're teaching them. I still get glazed over looks sometimes. However, the high school boys dead pan empty stare was probably from lack of souls as the Korean men glassy eyed look is from not being able to understand a word I'm saying.

5. Jokes about sex and/or bodily functions are still funny. Boys will be boys eh.

6. They come to class late.

7. They "borrow" my pens/pencils, which inevitably means I have to go buy more because they don't fully grasp the meaning of "borrow".

8. They talk while you're talking. However, I can't always understand them here.

9. They're surprised when I catch them doing something they shouldn't i.e. talking, cheating. They always act so surprised. Don't they know that teachers take a special class in uni so that we can detect any bad behavior?

10. There are still brown nosers and troublemakers; a hierarchy among students.

When I meet new people here in Korea and they find out that I teach adults, they are so envious. My job must be the pinnacle of my teaching career. Umm....well. It might not be as different from your public school job. However, here are some reasons as to why teaching my boys here is a little different from teaching my "real" boys back home.

1. Going drinking with them is perfectly acceptable.

2. They buy the drinks.

3. They buy dinner.

4. It's ok to ride in the car with them.

5. Being seen in a coffee shop with two or three of them is cool.

6. The more sloshed you get on the drinks they buy you, earns you respect at your workplace (I've yet to earn a lot of respect. I hate soju.)

I love teaching these guys. But still, when I look really closely, teaching boys is the same in any classroom.

Mine All Mine

Sometimes I sit down to write and get so frustrated as to what in the hell I should write about that I just shut my laptop and walk away. There are so many things that happen in a day or a week that I want to write about, that excite me, make me giggle with happiness or make me want to curl up and cry. I find myself censoring things because the blog is supposed to be about how exciting and adventurous my expat life is. Truth is, sometimes the only one it excites is me. I feel like there is such a demand to feed the people with this crazy international life and all of it's exotic tales of danger and conquer. My fiends back home wait with baited breath after they ask, "What's going on in your life? Are you traveling anywhere? What did you do this weekend? I bet you did something so amazing? Tell me. Tell me now."
I went to a birthday party this weekend.
Oh. Did you do anything else? Ya know, exciting?
Umm...the party was a lot of fun. It was exciting, I mean. I met a lot of new people. Had real western cake.
Oh. Well, that's cool.

I want to say, yeah actually it is cool. Western cake is amazing, and I miss it. I'm tired of this cool whip/sweet potato cake crap at Paris Baguette.

I want to write about how I fixed my own washing machine, how I can order an entire meal in another language. I want to tell you about the boy I had coffee with, who even though his English is weak, we had a fantastic conversation. How I've never had a thing for brown eyes, but his were beautiful. I'd write about how I die a little bit inside each time someone tells me that this "traveling and living abroad thing" is just a phase and when it's over I can settle down and get married. I want to post about riding shot gun in a car (so rare here!) or about God. Just God. How much I'm in love with him and how I desperately need him all the time.

So maybe in all actuality, cerealandchopsticks is telling the story of a girl who is changing, all the time whether that be through sticking her hand down a dark nasty dank hole to fix her washing machine and being triumphant, or falling for the wrong guy. I love Korea. I seriously love this country and fall a little bit more in love every week, and I want the next five months to go by very slowly. But, I'm not going to write about all these "Eat, Pray, Love" moments all the time. I'm going to write about how she's changing me; how God is leading me through this wayward life I love dearly.

Point is, the purpose of this blog isn't to be a side dish to a travel book. It's for me. It's mine. All mine.

Because Making a List is Easy

I love lists. I love that I feel more organized, and my month, week, day is a bit more planned. Making lists keeps me calm, and the stuff I have to do seem so much more doable. Therefore, I am quite ashamed that I haven't made a list about Korea yet. Shame shudders through me at this very moment. Plus, lists are so easy to read. People love reading something that looks condensed, but might not be. Ah the wonderfulness that are lists.

Ten Things You Probably Didn't Know About Korea

1. Same Sex Intemacy Yet Not Homosexuality
Boys hold hands here and it doesn't mean they're in a relationship. Korean children grow up calling their older peers brother and sister. Girls call older boys oppa and older girls unni. Boys call older boys hyung and older girls noona. So from the beginning children form tight knit bonds with each other and as they grow older, it's perfectly acceptable for men to link arms, hold hands, run hands through each other's hair, put hands on upper thighs, pretty much anything but kissing really. Girls do the same thing. These are GROWN men and women and it's totally NORMAL. At first I was a bit shocked by it all, but now I really really love it. I love how they express how much they admire and respect their friends. It's nothing sexual at all, but pure friendly affection.

2. Bowing
If you're a youngster, say anywhere below 40, then you bow. To everyone. In this Confucius society, respect to elders is the upmost important thing you can do. As a foreigner I'm exempt from this. But I think that's a little ridiculous. When in Rome, ya know? After seven months of living here I know when to bow, and I do it quite often. Also, I work for a big corporation, where I see high ups all the time. Therefore, bowing means I'm in with the in crowd, and they're usually totally impressed that I don't just wave. I miss waving...
Recently I went to a Korean wedding for one of my LG guys and I felt something akin to a pigeon or chicken with all of my bowing.

3. Fast Food Delivers
And they call Americans lazy. Instead of going to a drive through window (which they don't have here) you can just call McDonald's and they'll deliver your quarter pounder to your freaking doorstep.

4. Convenience Stores...
are everywhere. 7/11, Family Mart, MiniStop, GS25. They are on every corner, and if you don't feel like going to the bar to have a drink with friends, just go to the ministop and pull up a chair, inside or outside. Loitering laws don't exist here. Yeah, these stores blow American ones out of the water. I love it.

5. Drinking in Public
Korea is a country that puts special emphasis on drinking and how it helps/hinders you socially. With that said, soju is the end of a good night. Seriously. You can buy a massive bottle of soju for less than $3 and that stuff will knock you on your tushy. There are also no societal rules about when it's okay to drink so you'll go out with co-workers on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, who cares! But public drunkenness is a common sight here. All too common. Go to Hongdae any night and you'll see hordes of college students stumbling around. Of hang out in my town and see old men and women drinking in the middle of the day outside of the store.

Soju: The devil's drink

Here's a great link to Korean drinking customs. They also include a great clip of public drunkenness.

6. Keys

You know you live in an older not as cool as your friends building when you have keys. Most buildings now just use security pass codes with these ultra cool little boxes on the outer doors and your door so you never have to worry about leaving your keys at home...because you don't have any.
I, however, find myself hiding my keys out of shame. It's like some sort of message to the world around me, "Look. I'm not cool enough for your fancy building with it's fancy security box thingy."

7. Kids Clean The School

There is no janitor. Kids clean the school. Bathrooms, mopping, sweeping. It is glorious. I can't imagine this going down very well in America, but think of what it teaches the kids! Take care of your school because you're the one that cleans up. The teacher in me says, "muahaha". Insert evil laugh.

8. You a Hoe

Showing more cleavage than your grandmother is considered a mortal sin and you are deemed a whore here. Girls wear shirts buttoned to the absolute top button and never ever show shoulders if it can be helped. However, mini skirts and cut off jeans are no problem. I'm pretty sure I've seen girls wearing what could only be described as boy short underwear as they go out shopping.

9. Coffee Drinking Hikers

If every corner has a convenience store then in between them would be filled in with coffee shops and hiking clothing stores. Two news stores just opened up in Naju, and my friends and I made bets as to what they would be. One guessed a hiking store and he won. The next store and someone bet a coffee shop. She won. There are only two options. Coffee or hiking store. They are slowly taking over the peninsula, as they should. Koreans are coffee drinking hikers.

10. Circle Lens

This freaks the hell out of me, but it needs to be said. Koreans want bigger eyes because supposedly they believe it makes them more beautiful. I myself am totally digging that smolder glare thing these men have going on here. I digress. Women have taken to wearing circle lenses which make their eyes look large and doll-like. They are colored contact lenses that I've seen many a girl pop in as she eats dinner, drinks coffee, rides the bus, etc. All the stars wear them and they're advertised at all the optometrists. It freaks me out. Here's why:

Holy Freaking Abnormally Large Eyes Batman!!

And so ends the first list.

What the Wednesday: The Neighborly Edition

If you're like me, then when you hear the words neighbor, neighborly, neighborhood, you might think Mr. Rogers. God, I loved that man. So sweet with his cardigans, terribly decorated living room, and indoor shoes. Everyone wanted him as a grandpa. His world was full of sunshine and butterflies and cupcakes. His world consisted of book reading, children's songs, the all too wise life lessons, and the heart warming smile. Obviously he was a much better neighbor than our neighbors here in Korea.

This week provided a fresh batch of threats from our northern neighbors. We hear them all the time. Every week in fact, and I'll be damned if those northerners aren't poetical saying things like, "We will turn Seoul into a sea of fire." and "Seoul will be reduced to ashes," and calling South Koreans things like "traitors, arch criminals, and puppets".  Their threats are always so lyrical and melodic. However, using phrases such as "sea of fire" makes me feel like I'm living in Mordor. It also causes the rest of the world to laugh at them. I mean, if I was to threaten someone I wouldn't use pretty words. That doesn't sound very...um...threatening.

However, the fact of the matter is, I live in a country that's still at war with the North, and while most expats don't talk about it, we think about it. It's always there in the back of our minds, brought up whenever the North makes a particularly flowery threat. With such an unpredictable country right next to us, we can't help but not wonder sometimes, "what if?" So without freaking out my parents too much (too late right?) I'll tell you how you deal with living with constant threats: You ignore it. The South Koreans have been living with this their entire lives. It's why every man must enter into military service and why there are US military bases throughout the country. It's life. It's normal. For them. For us it's a bit unnerving at times. I've had a few conversations with separate people about what we would do if war actually did break out, what we would pack (passport, phone, clean underwear), where we'd go (to Busan, to Japan, to home), etc. Living in Jeollanamdo, we feel safer because we are much farther south. But still "what if" right?

My advice to anyone living abroad is to register with your embassy. They need to know you're here and they need your families contact information in case something did happen. I registered with my embassy the first month I was here and listed emergency contact info (yay Dad!). I get monthly newsletters from them. Also, if an emergency were to happen (natural or northernly) I'd be immediately notified about what I need to do and where I need to go. I don't plan on heading into the mountains to live off of berries and rabbit.

However, if worse comes to worse my Naju friends and I have a plan if the refugee life is indeed ours to be had. It's called "Operation Flee Naju" or in the heat of the moment we'll call it "GTFON". Use your imagination kids.

So while Sauron broods in the north, we all continue to thrive in the south. We listen to kpop, make travel plans, and plan to live here for years to come. We also really really hope we don't have to use the "GTFO-wherever you live" plan.

Now go here and take a look at this to brighten your day now that I've depressed you. Also, because I really do want to be his neighbor.

What the Wednesday: K-pop Edition

Perhaps you've heard me mention kpop on the blog before. Maybe you've heard about the Korean wave that's taking Canada, Japan, China, and America by storm. OR maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's okay. Not all of us can be as cultured as others. I'm here to help.



Behold, K-pop:

So you might be asking yourself, "What the...?" That's right people. Boy bands and girl groups are alive and well here in Korea and. They. Rock. There, I said it. I'm not ashamed. I really like k-pop. I've never had a type of music, something that I could identify with. I've always bounced around, enjoying whatever hit my mood. In middle school it was country, high school it was rock, college and beyond was my bluegrass and indie. But now? Nope, still don't identify with anything. K-pop is awesome, and it's a music that is catchy. I mean really,  you can't help but love these little cutesy bands. They're not border line porn music videos or bump grind stuff. They're lyrics are also a little more...er...substantial than say this or this. The girls wear almost non existent shorts and the boys wear too much make-up and I love it. 

However...the music videos are, well, weird. If you want to check out an extremely amazing website that looks at the vids from a humorous and analytical viewpoint then go here. No really. Go there now. They make fun of the outfits, judge the dancing, re-enact the mini-dramas, and rate the English of the song. K-pop bands love to use English and then what they use makes no sense or they use out-dated phrases. Good times.

Here are some of my favorite videos portraying some of my favorite bands. Check out the guy with blue hair in the "Fantastic" sound. He makes me melt with that husky voice and pensive stare and blue hair and ridiculous outfits...le sigh. Boy can rock some pantaloons. Boom shaka laka.

Big Bang "Fantastic Baby"

Exo-K "Mama"

4 Minute "Volume Up"

Sunny Hill "The Grasshopper song"

MBLAQ "This Is War"

Don't freak out YouTube, I'm about to tell everyone that all these videos came from you and I have no rights and yada. Go youtube!