First Impressions, Part I

**In the absence of internet on my personal computer, I composed a blog entry in Word to cut and paste. It ended up being 2 pages long, so I'm splitting it into 2 entries for easier reading. Since the most recent will show up on top, I'm manipulating things a bit and posting part 2 first. So here's the beginning: **

Two days in country, and I have a mission. Lots of missions, actually—becoming literate, finding a burrito, creating a balanced life, and so on—but this one involves a man. A man who looks a bit like Murray Foster, has traveled to Poland and Namibia, and is from Newfoundland (oh, the accent!!). It’s been a long time since I had a mission of this sort, and it’s never been my specialty, but I’ve learned a lot in the last few years, and one thing is that if you’re waiting for the right person to knock on your door, you’d better allot a lot of time. Another thing is that if you overplay your hand, you’ve shot yourself in the foot. Somewhere between those is the sweet spot, which is located in a café (or Mexican restaurant) with this man. Weak knees, racing pulse, and mania should be the harbinger of something, should it not? How I will bring this about is a subject for my early morning musings, when I should be sleeping but my body isn’t sure why.

There’s so much to comment on, I’m not sure where to begin. Things are good so far. I’m really pleased I’m working for SMOE, and so thankful for this orientation—not only is it full of excellent information, it’s a nice, gentle crescendo into the country. It’s indispensable to have people I can talk to, help coming at me from all directions, and meals provided (even if they’re not that appetizing) while I find my feet. These folks know what they’re doing.

We’re housed in a university in Suwon, south of Seoul. The view from my window looks like a third-world stereotype (though I don’t want to give the impression it’s a shantytown, because it certainly isn’t), but it’s a fascinating look into Korean life. I see people’s gardens, people’s laundry, lots of chili peppers being dried on mats, lots of kimchi pots, garbage collectors, businesses with the ubiquitous neon, high rise apartments, and even a cat. The aesthetics and the density (and the fact that folks hang their laundry) are the main things that differentiate it from an American urban view…otherwise, there are bicycles, potted plants, satellite dishes, chaise longues, highways, and just generally the accoutrements of everyday life. Korean architecture is extremely functional, and not very historic, but the insides are quite spiffy.

I find my dorm room very agreeable, and am hoping my apartment will be similarly so. There is a large cupboard for my clothes (which I am extremely loathe to unpack, but can’t really avoid), and a desk with numerous cubbies and drawers—things I’m a complete sucker for. There are drawers under the bed, too (how I long to unpack here!), and the traditional quilt instead of sheets on top. I’d been warned about Korean pillows—it’s high and firm—but I prefer it to any I’ve owned in the last 10 years. We have our own bathroom right in the room, separated British style into a toilet room and literal bath room. There’s a step down into the little entryway, linoleum tiled so we can take off our shoes and squeeze them into the cupboard that’s there for that purpose, only just accommodating American size 9 monstrosities. The light in the “hallway” has a motion sensor and comes on whenever we’re in the vicinity, so if one of us visits the loo in the night, we’re both awake. My roommate is from Pennsylvania and has been a great companion, and very generous, including letting me use her computer, which, presumably not having had its OS installed by a moron, can get internet through a cord.

My grandma would love this building—it’s brand new and painted in assertive yellow, green, and orange. The whole campus seems brand new, which I haven’t figured out…is this a newly-established university, a new location, a rebuild…no idea. The campus is quite pleasant (good thing, ‘cause we’re not allowed to leave it), with trees, squirrels, magpies, lots of humming cicadas, and a large garden area with ponds, art objects, and caged birds. And fighter jets roaring over every hour or so. The smog here is considerable, and there’s no daylight savings time (we’re 13 hours apart, my East Coast readers--“I’m in the future,” my roommate told her boyfriend--but it’ll go to 14 in a couple months), so it’s dark by 8 and light by 5.