The glass is half .....?

I’m typing on “my own” laptop again. I’ve been sort of avoiding it on the grounds that if I don’t try to turn it on, it can’t die. I’ve grown quite fond of it, and would miss it for more than just practical reasons. I like it much better than the beast at school. It’s not always cooperative, but, I suppose, neither am I. It’s nice to type on a keyboard that doesn’t have a plastic overcoat, and won’t slip into Hangeul if I hit the wrong key.

Another weekend has come and gone…probably even for you home folks by the time you read this. I spent a large chunk of it acting totally out of character. Friday night, I turned on the tv and got sucked into a biography of Celine Dion that turned out to be 2 hours long. If I’d had to predict what I’d be doing in Korea, it would have taken more than my life span to guess that. She’s actually a really nice, centered person. I spent a lot more than 2 hours with my nose in a detective novel I picked up for 50 cents in the Cortez library. To justify, it’s not just any detective novel, it’s Ian Rankin. I’m on a bit of a Scottish author kick, having let my Alexander McCall Smith absorption lead me to check out this real life author he wrote into one of his books (to say nothing of JK Rowling, whose last book is also on my “soon” list). Both Rankin and McCall Smith write with such a tremendous sense of place, I want to put a big map of Edinburgh on the wall so I can follow the action.

I did get out this weekend, and quite a bit. As plans were being made via Facebook, it looked like a competing jumble of wishes and needs, the kind of thing where there’s so much to do that none of it works out. Instead, the opposite happened. One of my fellow SMOE-ers was trying to organize an outing to the Korean War Memorial Museum. I ended up being the only one who showed, and was worried for a while that she wasn’t going to, but she did, and I was so elated to be talking to a fluent English speaker, I almost didn’t care about the exhibits. (As it was, the exhibits had only very sparse English translation, so it was more a matter of absorbing the gist of it anyway) Looking for an ATM beforehand, I was reminded of possibly my least favorite part about London, namely that the ubiquitous Chinese takeaways would magically disappear whenever I wanted Chinese. There are convenience marts with ATMs on every block in Seoul, but not near the War Museum. Fortunately, it took me less than the 2 hours I’d routinely spend in London to turn one up. I guess my neighborhood really is quite a handy place.

Next moved on to free Korean lessons with Amanda, whom I met last weekend. They were really useful; better taught than the class I went to at Orientation. We went over the Korean alphabet—I have the consonants pretty solidly, but only about half the vowels. The teacher gave us some good mnemonics, though…some flashcard work, and I’ll be a pro. Lessons culminate in a dinner outing, where I was able to reconnect with some SMOE folk, then Amanda & I met Ramsey for tea. The place was awesome—a little nook up some stairs; a floor made of stones with a stream drifting through it and fish swimming by; tables made of stumps. Ramsey & I got carried away telling stories of my cousins/his friends in Illinois, but the taste of home did both of us good. Unfortunately, the tea shop is in a nest of alleys of the sort the mafia might use to conceal their location, so I’ll probably never find it again.

My Korean neighbor just stopped by to give me the password for the newly-erected glass door at the foot of the stairs. I arrived home late last night, laden with groceries, to find it operational, an eventuality I’d been anticipating since they installed it. I punched in every code I could imagine on the keypad, headed back out to call my first co-teacher whose phone number was in my wallet, decided it was too late for that, paced the street for a few minutes, then decided to try knocking. Pounded on the glass door & it slid open like something out of Star Trek. Used a similar strategy when I got home tonight. Wondered if this was how it’s supposed to work. Thankfully, no.

Got acquainted with the world of Korean mass retail on Sunday. Bookstore first—lots of tempting possibilities for my students, all the books helpfully encased in protective plastic, but no money for books, and they’re awfully expensive even if I was funded. Did pick up a used copy of The Watsons go to Birmingham, which I’ve been meaning to read for years. On to E-Mart, every bit the Sunday-afternoon circus you might expect. Made a stupid-foreigner money miscalculation & ended up with $1 remaining to my name. So thankful for all the little things I considered buying and didn’t. At least my fridge doesn’t look so pathetic now that it’s got milk & eggs in it, and “Happy Morning Toast” (aka bread) in the freezer. I was so happy (and lacking anything else), I had corn flakes for dinner last night. 2 bowls!

Another stroke of luck was Ramsey’s 6:30 appointment getting postponed, so our on-again, off-again hiking plans miraculously saw fruition. There’s a small mountain near his house, which we set up near dusk. My jotted notes: “Seoul is big. I am sweaty. Hiking is great.” Superlatives for all. The most amazing thing is, you get a bit of elevation, and though this massive city and all its lights and features stretch out in every direction, you can’t hear it at all. More lights than Manhattan, quieter than Deer Hill. This could be addicting.

There was one minor event yesterday that is my Korean experience in a nutshell. Having eaten my last oatmeal on Friday (and not yet acquired the corn flakes), I was scrounging for breakfast over the weekend. I have granola that I’ve been trying to find yogurt for, but in searching the cupboard for something else, I found a bag of powdered milk I’d forgotten. Perfect! That’ll do for the granola. I poured some in a bowl of water and let it sit. When I returned, it was a little sludgy, but I figured this was ok—it’d be like cream. I stirred in a generous helping of granola. And it was like cream…of wheat. Turns out it wasn’t powdered milk at all, but dehydrated mashed potato. (Oh, the number of times I warned kids about things like this this summer) It was positively nauseating. But I can’t afford to waste food, and I didn’t yet have any food disposal bags, so I made my way through the whole thing. The good news? I’ve been dreaming of mashed potatoes a lot lately, and I have some right in the cupboard!

Everything is a good news/bad news scenario. It’s good training to find the silver lining in everything that makes me groan. It seems like I’ll be here forever…but time is flying by. I only have to write one lesson plan for all my classes…but I’m sick of it after 4 today, and I’ve got 17 more repetitions to go. All I can do is roll with it.