Happy Halloween!

I was just out in short sleeves for the second day in a row. The good weather entices me to take a walk immediately after getting home from school, and, on the whole, it's a much better arrangement than waiting until it's dark and I'm tired and pressed for time. Today's surprise was a good one--on the last Friday of the month, we get to go home an hour early. The idea is to give teachers time to socialize and "community-build", but nobody does anything together. So I walked over to a park near my school that I've been wanting to check out. The problem with green space in Korea is that it's all vertical. Not that I don't need the exercise, but it would be nice sometimes to just go for a quiet stroll. Nonetheless, for the investment of sweat and the possible sacrifice of my ability to do a Wing Chun set tonight, I got to trek among trees and magpies (and exercise equipment and carefully dressed Korean seniors). It wasn't totally getting away--it never is--with the resonant booms and growls of construction at the bottom of the hill, and the general dearth of wildlife, but I sat on a rock and even catnapped with my head on my arms, and it was agreeable for all that.

The weather's been pretty glorious, but that's about to come to a screeching halt. According to the forecast, things are going to change on the first of November as if required by law, with temps dropping 20 degrees, and only expected to reach 40 on Monday. One of my friends is going on a day trip with Adventure Korea tomorrow, and if I hadn't already scheduled 3 different things, I'd probably be joining her. They do run the same trips again and again, so I hope I'll catch them later, though this is the ideal time of year. I'm still hoping to get outside on Sunday, despite the dismal forecast.

Other than a few pumpkins & spiders in Baskin Robbins, Halloween doesn't really exist in Korea. The kids have all heard of it, and when I asked when it is, they invariably replied, "Candy!", but even the phrase Trick or Treat was completely new to them. As waygook domain, Halloween becomes a drinking holiday. I might be the only sober American in Seoul tomorrow night. I think I'm going to a music fest...if I stay home, I'll be at one anyway. Came home this afternoon to all kinds of commotion in the church parking lot (and it's still going on at 10:30)--hammering, banging...ultimately, erecting a bunch of tents and a stage. *Groan* It's "Love Fest". Details at 11.

Folk Village Idiot

Went to the Korean Folk Museum near Suwon last weekend. I’d been told to go this time of year, and the advice was spot-on—the essence of fall pervaded the place like a friendly ghost, and being there was glorious. Korean leaves still aren’t as riotous as the hometown varieties—another teacher from Toronto and I got into a bit of rhapsodizing about the wonders of Northeastern (or southeastern for her) autumn—but it was close enough, and the colors and the crunch and the smell were salve for the soul.

This is supposed to be one of the better folk museums in Korea, and it certainly is attractive, tucked in next to forested hills, full of trees, with a large creek crossed by several bridges. I was initially disappointed that I hadn’t arrived the minute the gates opened, then figured it was just as well when I hit saturation around 4:00, but on second (or third) thought, a few extra hours to roam the fringes would have been well-used. Feeling pressed for time after lunch, our group split up so we could all tend our highest priorities, and I wandered out behind the Nobleman’s House and suddenly found myself in Corbett’s Glen! In my mind, anyway. The hill, the foliage, the forest floor, the quiet, the light filtering in...my life force filled up like I’d found the golden coin in a video game. Opportunities to walk on an unpaved surface through the woods don’t grow on trees around here, and it was another, albeit pleasant, reminder of what I so painfully miss.

I got another rare opportunity just a few minutes later when I hiked up to the village’s temple. Temples in Korea all have virtually identical architecture—I used to think the “seen one, seen ‘em all” attitude was pitiably cynical, but they might have a point. What almost never happens, though, is seeing a temple in total solitude. Apparently, most people don’t feel that another temple is worth the hike at the Folk Village, and I got a precious 15 minutes of just me and the persimmon trees to really appreciate the place. It makes a difference!

Yet another cool experience was at the pottery studio. The English signage was concise, so I don’t have a lot of details to relate, but the dioramas and mud kilns imply that pottery goes back a long time in Korea. You see it (all over) today in the form of kimchi pots, which have changed very little in the intervening centuries. Diana the Torontan and I were poking around and discovered a crowd watching a 4-year-old boy molding a bowl out of clay (with a great deal of guidance, mind you). A little sleuthing revealed that we, too, could have the privilege for a mere $10, so I’m waiting expectantly for my very own handmade souvenir to arrive in the mail. The Korean potter did most of the work, guiding my hands at key points, but I was on my own for decorating the thing. So, like the sandblasting in Corning, the Korean fanmaking at orientation, and several of my knitting projects (to cite just a few examples), the bowl looks like the punchline of a Far Side cartoon. I needed no Korean to comprehend the sad, resigned look of the lady who was overseeing the site as she watched me savage this heretofore beautiful craft with my plastic stylus. It won’t even be a conversation piece when I’m serving peanut M&Ms in it next Thanksgiving, since people will be too diplomatic to mention it. At least I know it was made in Korea!

While the setup and feel of the place was reassuringly universal, the details were unmistakably Korean. Traditional Korean houses have a linear floor plan, like the Lego houses kids build, and you spend a lot of time outside getting from one section to another. I’m mystified by how this became the prevailing architecture in a country with a climate like New York’s, but for all the regional variations—thicker walls to withstand the wind on Jeju Island, different roofing materials based on what was locally available—the basic layout was consistent. As for the roofs, they were either clay tiles (what you still see in most traditional architecture), wood shingles (of the same shape as the tiles), or thatched. The thatched were said to last 10 years, and they did look remarkably sturdy. Some of the houses had pumpkins growing on the roofs—I’ve seen it in Seoul, and I speculated that it was an answer to space constraints, but it doesn’t seem as though farmers of centuries gone by would have had to make room for the PC Bang next door, so maybe it’s a climate thing, or just a national quirk. We were wondering what time period all these buildings represent…it doesn’t appear that Korean building styles changed much for several hundred years, but maybe that’s the glib assertion of a foreigner. Like so much else, the more I learn, the more I don’t know.

Status Quo

Why I want to blog when I first get home from work is beyond me. Haven't I just been staring at a computer screen for several hours? And why do I immediately check my email when everyone I know is asleep? (I may know the answer to that one. I'm still looking forward to checking phone messages as I come up the stairs, despite not having had an answering machine for 5 months now...has it really been that long since any of you wiseacres left a message for Tony?) And why do I persist in pounding peanut M&Ms before dinner when I know they'll give me a sugar crash? Questions no one can answer. Like the ones I ask in class.

This week's topic is fall/Halloween. Oh, how it would benefit from some real-life props. I've got a great picture of cider and doughnuts, but would dearly love to have some actual samples for the kids. I can describe how to carve a pumpkin, but how cool would it be if I could show them? I was hoping to give them some American candy, too, but at $1/oz, they'll have to settle for E-Mart's fruit drops. If I taught ESL in the US, I could do such a better job! Maybe I will. It'll be too late for me when I get back, but maybe I'll make some videos for other esl teachers...like how to carve a pumpkin without assuming that you've done it before. How to trick-or-treat, how to order food, tons of things. For now, though, I'm showing pictures and discussing terms. There were several gems today when I asked the kids to describe Halloween things...one I remember was witch=ghost grandmother. I should be writing this stuff down--I get a laugh out of them several times a week.

With luck, I'll have a second chance at gathering appropriate materials. Nailing down vacation time is notoriously aggravating here, as I'm beginning to discover firsthand. Terrie has made inquiries for me, but all they tell her is that I HAVE to be here for winter vacation camp, and they haven't yet decided when that will be. Rising airfares and filling planes matter not to the bureaucracy. Terrie's guess is that I'll be at liberty for the last 2 weeks of January. That's a week later than I'd planned, but it's also $500 cheaper, so I'm down with it. Now if I could just get that confirmed. I'm so excited at the prospect; weeks of uncertainty are almost unbearable. Never before have I looked forward to 15 hours on an airplane.

Another unprecedented event: I have nothing scheduled for any night this week. Endless possibilities, but it might get a little lonely, too. I've gotta go check out that cat cafe. I've gotten out my knitting again, after a lengthy hiatus--Christmas is coming, after all--and that seems a good match for sitting with cats. I don't think those places are cheap, though, and I actually went through most of my budget this week, for the first time in a while. Time to get creative!

Context!

Ironically, though intending to blog about the importance of context, the scatteredness of my thoughts at the moment means this post will be largely without it. I'm in the midst of some revelations, though one never knows how fast they will stick. Maybe I'm just in a philosophical mood; maybe tomorrow will suck. Who knows? A convergence of input has made me ponder the control we have over our moods and what kind of day we have. I believe that, to a point. I believe that I can take steps to make my time here enjoyable and my job something I love. I also believe that we are innately programmed to a certain disposition, and no amount of willpower is going to make me a bottle of bubbles. (and suddenly feel like I'm writing a "This I Believe" essay for NPR...something I've long wanted to do, but never have been able to pin it down) But I've got absolutely nothing at all to lose from being more generous, less fearful, and waking up with the expectation of a good day.

I did manage to get myself a "date" with Nick the Newfoundlander. Probably won't manage another, but I enjoyed talking to him. Even managed to stop twitterpating about his accent relatively early in the conversation. He's a really interesting person; smart, motivated, and adventurous. Not that into me, though. At least I won't die wondering. He did give me a huge "Aha" moment when I was talking about the difficulties of lesson planning from scratch: there's no context. Context for me is like gravity--or something; science isn't my forte--without it, particles just fly off in every direction. Without knowing anything about my kids' language ability, their culture, their lives, Korean school practices, or what a "native" teacher lesson looks like, I'm supposed to keep these kids educated, busy, and entertained for 45 minutes. No wonder it's hard.

The lesson this week was reading Where the Wild Things Are and attempting a retelling. I may post a few of the responses--what the kids come up with and the way they express it is delightful. Context was an issue here, though, too. Not only knowing how much the kids understand--different classes had vastly different levels of comprehension and facility with the story--but just the nature of the story itself. A couple of my co-teachers told me after class that this kind of story is unknown in Korea, so the kids may have had trouble understanding it. That being the case, where do you even begin? And how do you define "imagination" or "mischief" to someone whose English vocabulary is so small? Next week, I try to explain Halloween.

Communication does seem to be improving with everyone in the school. I've been emailing out lesson plans in advance, and getting some small bits of feedback on them. Now that I actually have classes with Terrie, she can tell me what she thinks of what I'm doing. (uh oh!) I'm developing a "fan club" of students who want to talk to me every chance they get. Maybe I'll learn to make small talk in English too!

I love giving the students more creative (relatively speaking) things to do. In speaking class on Tuesday evening, I first handed out a haunted house picture and a list of directions they were to read to partners. "There is a cat on the roof. There is a mummy next to the house." Students had to draw the things in the designated places. Their pictures were fantastic! I wanted to keep them. Then I had the kids do a DIY Outburst game--gave them each a category and made them list 10 things. The spellings are interesting--always give me insight into Korean pronunciation. There's no "z" sound in Korean, so it usually ends up as a "j" or "ch" (hence Kraze Burger being said "Crotchy Burger")...and then the phenomenon reverses, so you get an item of clothing called "pazamas". On the Food list, I had to think for whole minutes and ultimately speak out loud to figure out "hilaphaniow". My favorite, though, was a dictation exhorting students to care for the Earth--one had written "bitch beach", then apparently decided the latter was correct.

I definitely made the right choice in applying to public school. I haven't taught a full week of classes since mid-September, and won't for another 3 weeks at least. Today was supposed to be an arts festival, but it, too, was a casualty of swine flu paranoia. Yesterday, however, was a surprise--some kind of career day thing or some such where each grade trotted off to a different location in Seoul for reasons I haven't been able to wheedle out of anybody. I almost had a quiet day at my desk, but, so very fortunately, I realized that did NOT mean I would get any work done and so took Ms. Cho up on her offer of taking me to the 3rd graders vocational high school fair. Korean kids can choose either a comprehensive, university-prep high school, or one that begins training for some kind of trade. And while, according to Ms. Cho, only about 10 kids in each class are looking at the vocational schools, they all got to come mess about at this fair for a couple hours before calling it a day and going home.

Typifying the Korean penchant for form over function, the schools had booths set up to attract students with activities and trinkets. Initially, I was looking for some connection between the school's specialty and their setup, but that just proves I'm still new here. Ms. Cho and I wandered around, watching kids make magnets and hair bows, laughing at the lineup of boys at the hand massage booth (girls could have their hands massaged directly, but boys had to have it done through a plastic bag); and picking up our share of tchotchkes (I have a pig charm for my phone now--I'm starting to assimilate) and free cookies from the teacher pavilion. The whole thing was outside...fortunately yesterday was the apotheosis of fall days and the event was in a beautifully treed area of town, so was quite pleasant all round.

When our day ended at 10:30, the teachers were discussing getting lunch or going to a movie. I would have just as soon gone home, but I didn't want to be a party pooper, so, awful as being in a movie theater on a day like that would have been, I was ready to follow the crowd. But then a magical thing happened...Ms. Cho asked me if I wanted to go shopping--at Costco!!! Cue angel trumpets! So we drove through this beautiful neighborhood on this beautiful day to Waygook Eden and walked among the Stacks of Yummy Familiarity and ate fabulous, unadulterated pizza for lunch. I haven't had such a good time since City Market in Cortez! And it was still only noon--rounded out the day with a walk through traditional alleys and boutique shops near Gyeongbokgung Palace, and got started on my Christmas shopping in Insadong.

I feel like I'm nearing the end of "the beginning". A good place to be!

The Language Barrier

It's ridiculous how many Koreans speak English. The young ones, certainly. They are incredibly fluent. Everyone, though, seems to know a word or two that they can spit out when you're at an impasse. Actually having a conversation, though, is another matter altogether. In general, Koreans are an extremely self-conscious people, and are wildly reluctant to give their English a try.

My weekend with Terrie's family was a perfect microcosm of this phenomenon. Terrie herself is flat-out fluent. We talked of many things over the campfire, in a conversation not much different than I would have with any native speaker (in fact, more in-depth than with most). Like almost every Korean I've talked to, though, I initially underestimated her English. Koreans are always infinitely more skilled in the second conversation--the first time you talk with them, they're so nervous about using their English, they can't get anything out. My first week or two here, I was surprised that everyone's English was so rudimentary. Then I talked to them all again, and got a totally different impression. Written, even more so--the emails I get from my colleagues are virtually indistinguishable from ones I would get at home. I've heard over and over again that Koreans are taught to write English extremely well, but almost never to speak it, and my experience has been that that's absolutely true.

This gives rise to the second common occurrence, which I encountered with Terrie's husband--complete refusal to speak. I was surprised when he didn't even say hello when I met him, but began to get the drift when Terrie was flummoxed by his behavior. I guess he speaks English fine--apparently spent 2 weeks in the Ukraine doing just that--but has no desire to do so in front of someone who might call him out (not that I would). I think this accounts for another of my co-teachers as well--he greets me with a bow and a smile when he's on temperature duty at the school gates, but never, ever speaks to me at all. Terrie was obviously disappointed by the unexpected impasse on Saturday--as a foreigner (and a vegetarian one at that), I have to get used to being a walking hardship on everyone I meet--but her husband reassured her in Korean (she told me) that he understood our conversation fine, so that was all we could do.

Terrie's kids went in the other direction. Both were initially bashful, as kids frequently are, but once they warmed up, they were endearing little show-offs, spouting whatever English they could summon. We walked from the train station to the campground accompanied by a monologue of "I want a hamburger! I jump in the park! I jump in the bus! I want to be a rock! That is very hot!" and on and on. I'm not sure he ever spoke directly to me, but he polished off all the English he knows. The younger son, being only 5 and not having had any formal English education, was more limited in what he could do, but still had a few outbursts of "tree! apple! table!" It was cute. Kids often show none of the reticence of their parents, and I am frequently greeted on the street by children I have never seen before (all the more remarkable for the fact that greeting strangers is not really done in Korean culture). A girl of about 9 at the train station Saturday said hello to me, then came back repeatedly to converse, one sentence at a time. Talking with a foreigner seems to be a rite of passage for Korean kids, appearing regularly in "have you ever?" games and the like.

The kids at school seem to have warmed up to me all of a sudden, too. They've always greeted me enthusiastically in the hall--even the ones who glare at me for 45 minutes straight in class give me a cheery smile and hearty hello when I pass them on the stairs. Now, though, they appear to be bold enough to try conversation. Several have stopped by my desk in the last week (a new photo collage with cats and family doesn't hurt, either), and my favorite was one boy who flagged down the teachers I was walking back from lunch with and asked them to tell me he wanted to talk. I asked him some standard small talk questions, and, consulting in whispers with Mr. Kwon before each, he had some good questions for me. He wanted to know what was difficult about my job, and I told him sometimes the students don't listen. He asked Mr. Kwon to tell me that HE listens! These exchanges just make my day! I can't afford to give candy to all 600 of them for Halloween, but I'm thinking maybe I'll bring some to school and "pay off" anyone who comes by my desk for a chat.

Reboot

I am definitely an outdoor cat. I was off camping for less than 24 hours, but boy, it did a body good. It was a perfect fall weekend--crisp and breezy, but sunny--and, while the leaves seem to be just dying and dropping rather than erupting in color, even the brown-orange adds a tinge of interest to the already-fetching mountains. While I can't get enough of summer, fall runs a close second, and I think part of my funk of late was due to feeling excluded from this satisfying sensory festival. There are no leaves to be kicked (or their scent savored), no pumpkins to be selected and brought home with a jug of cider and a white bag of fried cakes (glazed, sugar, and plain--1 each), no vivid canopy to revel in on the drive down Merchants Rd or even sun-warmed car to bask in after my morning walk. But for a few hours this weekend, I was reminded that Nature is still having its poignant party, and not entirely without me.

Since inviting me on the trip, Terrie has repeatedly warned me that Jarasum Island, site of the annual International Jazz Festival, is not that natural and I shouldn't expect wilderness. I was picturing Woodstock, and instead got a pleasant campsite backed by squash arbors, on a grassy (for Korea) island encircled by mountains. When we first arrived, there was music from 2 stages competing for our attention, but the cacophany was still infinitely preferable that the same 3 pop songs in enless rotation. Terrie's husband and kids put me back in a reality I haven't contacted in way too long, and demonstrated that kids are the same everywhere, regardless of language and culture. Well, not entirely the same....it was really refreshing to see her boys, ages 5 and 7, play happily with neither adult direction nor a carload of toys. They were absent for over an hour this morning, playing with other kids at the park playground, and when they wanted to get Cokes, Terrie gave them 1000 won and sent them across the field to the 7-11. Korea has its share of overbearing parents, to be sure, but the smothering paranoia that's become the norm for "good parenting" in the US has, fortunately, stayed there.

Anyway, camping...that was very much the same, too. We sat around the campfire, eating shish kebabs and hot dogs, dodging smoke & sparks, talking and shivering, and (in their case) drinking beer. Terrie filled me in on a lot of things I didn't know about at school (the English classroom rumor is--at this point--true!) and talked culture, politics, and the drawbacks of Seoul. She reminded me of 2 important things: that, however annoying they may be, the students are still children and should be understood as such; and that judging Korea on the basis of Seoul is like judging the US on the basis of NYC. She also told me that everyone will want to have a go at me and my teaching, and I should accept their criticism but ultimately do what I believe is right and what works for me. I'm really glad I got her as my main co-teacher!

They had a pretty sweet setup--Terrie's husband sounds like a bit of a gear hound--and Terrie said all I should bring was my clothes. I brought a fleece sleeping bag liner, too, since I tend to freeze at night, but I won't be bringing it next time! There were air pillows and the loveliest plush sleeping bags, but the very best thing was the floor-lining electric blanket! Apparently that's a Korean standard, the camp version of their traditional floor heating. Terrie says it's because Korea has 4 distinct seasons--that phrase should be a drinking game--but I don't care why; being warm as toast all night was a new and thoroughly enjoyable camping experience!

And for all of you who thought I'd be spending a year in the third world, the campground even had hot water and flush toilets, not to mention free showers if I'd been of a mind.

I was up before 7, but with 20 minutes or so to boot up, was able to thoroughly enjoy the sunny quiet. Terrie's husband went for a walk with the boys, while she & I wandered the island the other way. Dirt & grass to walk on, water full of lily pads & ducks, misty mountains, little red trees, flowers, squash, a gradually warming sun, and--being Korea--giant neon spiders...it was glorious. After breakfast--ramen for all of us, kimchi for them--we sat in the sun in that delicious autumn air, talking and feasting on the scenery and watching her husband pack up the gear (an hour+ process) until it was time to walk me to the train station. (Terrie's husband and younger son set up camp on Friday; I came with her & her older son, who'd both had school yesterday, on Saturday evening; and they were all going back in their overstuffed car while I paid the whopping $4 for the train ride) All this, just over an hour outside of Seoul. After Sokcho, I'd vowed that I need to get out of Seoul more often, and again, I see why. It's cheap, quick, easy, and so crucial to mental health.

When I'm Up

After being in a growing funk for the last week or two, I'm suddenly...happy. You know, more or less. The weekend was most enjoyable (lesson panic notwithstanding), and things have gone right today. I really shouldn't broadcast this to the world when there are still a few hours of the day left, but if anyone was hanging out with me tonight, they might even find me rather bubbly and silly. (or maybe the term is "punchy"--didn't get much sleep last night) And I've just tripped over another brick of the foundation of happiness--people to let down your hair and get goofy with. But I'm starting to ramble. Any (or all) of these could be making me cheerful:

--Out of nowhere, I had a good lesson today. I was still writing it when I got to school this morning, but, miraculously, it worked. Actually, a couple of the classes were still disasters, but my gut feeling is it wasn't because the lesson stank. Grabbed a framework off a website at 11:30 last night for a lesson on "When was the last time you...?". Target vocab: last _____, _______ ago, and the _______ before last. Some listening, some writing, and some speaking for the kids. I whipped up a worksheet for my first class, and didn't even have to modify it afterward--that's a first. When I ran out of activity before I ran out of time in one class, the solution came to me instantly. Two co-teachers said it was a good lesson, and the one I've been getting the weirdest vibes from sat with me at lunch and asked what I wanted her to do in class. After lunch I went to the library to get "Where the Wild Things Are" for a class next week, and had a long conversation with one of the kids about which books are good, interesting, hard, etc. THAT'S the kind of thing I've been wanting. And to top it all off, Wild Things didn't turn out to be impossibly complicated.

--Rearranged my vacation intentions last night to include 2 weeks in Rochester. A total departure from what I'd originally had in mind, but the thought of being home just a little makes me cheery and hopeful. August seems crushingly far away, but January? I can live until January. All the arguments against coming home just seem to not matter--it is a long plane ride, and I will be jetlagged, but would I trade that for the welcoming embrace of loved ones and cherished places, the chance to gather my wits and regroup for another campaign, and a big green salad and breakfast at Jines? You betcha! I've even decided it may not traumatize the cats so much if I return and go away again--hope I'm right about that! What's more, rather than being disappointed at the radical contraction of my plans for Southeast Asia, I actually feel like a week in Cambodia is perfect--the kind of focus and manageability that I strive for in my lessons.

--Got my hair cut today after being driven to distraction by it for the last several weeks. I actually think I look kinda good! I was going to go short last time I had a haircut, back in May, but wasn't ready to give up my ponytail. I was ready today, and I do think this is a better look for me. I feel more professional, more up-to-date, more like I meant to look this way. I was nervous about walking into a random Korean hairdresser, too, but the lady was really nice, did a great job, and only charged me $7! I don't know when I've ever had a haircut that I liked instantly.

--Great Big Sea on YouTube! Granted, that's pretty much a daily occurrence, but it rarely fails to make me a bit effervescent, to use one of Bob Hallett's favorite words.

Off to HomePlus for groceries. If my happy groove continues, maybe I'll even find the right bus!

The Time Machine, HG Wells

"It is a law of nature we overlook, that intellectual versatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble...Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is no change and no need of change. Only those animals partake of intelligence that have to meet a huge variety of needs and dangers."

Another week down

Friday afternoon, 45 weeks to go. All of a sudden, it feels like fall here. It's been cooler at night (though my apartment holds steady at 76), and after being able to wear shorts without thinking about it for 7 weeks, the last two days have been the type where long pants & a jacket aren't unthinkable. The new weather came in on a cool breeze on Tuesday and the leaves are actually dry enough to rustle (if still stubbornly green). It was an encouraging sound.

It hasn't been a particularly encouraging week. After 3 weeks of feeling like my lessons were getting better and more solid, it now seems to be crashing down around me like Manhattan in an apocalypse movie. Through September, I felt that my lessons had educational merit, but needed to be more engaging. Then last Monday's attempt to teach telephone skills was not only a confusing mess, the kids were completely comatose. After three attempts at revision, I decided to scrap it, necessitating new plans for the smattering of classes I had this week. My mentor visited my school yesterday for the privilege of watching me scramble to pull together 3 different lessons, none of which took flight. The one for the 3rd grade was unfocused and dry. I knew the 2nd grade story lesson needed refinement, but my mentor was adamant that the material was too complicated, and pointed out that most of the kids were asleep. I punted and did a game with the first grade, which the kids really enjoyed, but I was rebuked for it at dinner. My mentor shared her evaluation with me, and she was forced to spill into the margins after filling the "constructive criticism" box completely. I was planning to do "Ordering food in a restaurant" next week, but I've been gnashing my brain over it for 3 weeks and come up with nothing workable or interesting, so I have to hope for divine inspiration this weekend, write something from scratch, or just go in with more dull crap. It's all rather bleak.

I went to my mentor's school today. Missed a field trip at my own, which sounded interesting if only for the sheer difference from the American version. In fact, I'm not even sure what was going to happen, just that the kids arrive there on their own by subway. There's another one in December, so hopefully I'll get to check it out then. Anyway, Holly's school was a real treat. Having the chance to see what class is actually supposed to look like was a fantastic opportunity...I realized a few days ago that it makes sense that this is so hard, considering I'm supposed to perform this (teaching English) behavior without ever having watched it done. There is no a priori class in my head, no model to emulate. Now at least, I have some idea. Holly didn't put on a circus act, just led the kids through the material with warmth and direction. In her knockout classroom. She has her own room, full of her own stuff, with tables for the kids to sit in teams at, new and working A/V equipment, her own rules and slogans posted on the wall, and kids' work beside it. The back wall has a huge map of the world painted on it. The floor is dry, the table surfaces are unmarred, and it even has funky sliding murals for holidays (did you know that Jesus brought corn to the first Thanksgiving?). At 4 this afternoon, I was still slack-jawed and sputtering about it. It was gorgeous. I learned from Holly's conversations with my co-teacher yesterday that there is a chance I will have my own room in March, albeit a slight one, and that I will have some classes with Terrie herself in November. While that's happy news, I'm confused about why the schedule is changing, and what else might be different.

This is the first weekend since I've been here that I have no specific plans. I guess everyone's losing their tourist enthusiasm. I'm going to need to summon the discipline to work diligently and with focus on my lessons anyway. Still need to get out, though. This hasn't been a banner week for exercise, and exploration keeps me in a better mood. After declaring Wednesday my adventure night, I've sat home for 2 of them in a row. I'm hoping to get some shopping done, find out what's really available in this town. Maybe I'll even go and knit at the cat cafe.

It's Here!

I feel almost as though I've given birth. After thinking for a long time that it would never happen to me, after knowing for months that it would, after imagining what it might look like and what it would be like to have, my cell phone arrived today. I'm surprised at the affection I feel for it. I keep picking it up, looking it over, trying to figure it out. I know this is going to change my life forever, that I will never again be able to imagine not having it. I'm a little baffled by it, and afraid it's going to be noisy at inconvenient times and wake me up at night, but I'm sure others will have plenty of advice for dealing with it. And so I stare at this little thing, amazed that it's mine and that for the next year, I'll be carrying it wherever I go. I'm a little concerned about all the accessories I now have to bring when I travel, and the money it's going to cost me, but I imagine I'll rather like it on the whole, and will soon understand other people's devotion to their own. Just hope I don't break it.

Culture Roundup

Here's another collection of observations on life in Korea:

Whenever there's construction, they have these huge rolls of pink & green striped blanket to cover everything. You walk over them rather than through mud in a torn up sidewalk or road. They encase the scaffolding that surrounds what used to be the other wing of my school. They're uniform, they're everywhere, and they're surprisingly resilient.

Usually, when I travel, I look for cats, and often photograph them. Many of my Lonely Planet & Rick Steves books have cat tallies in the back. Having been away from my own fellas for so long, I would expect to be particularly excited to see cats here, but most of the time, I hate it. They're almost always skinny and fearful, and more often than not, have oddly truncated tails. I know Koreans don't hold cats in high esteem, and it's heartbreaking to see the examples...I'd just as soon not be reminded. Even a kitten that an old lady was holding at her vegetable stand down the street made me sad. For one thing, it was much too young to be away from its mother. For another, I just don't have any confidence that the lady's interest in the kitten is long-term. That's just not the way Koreans roll.

People put their phone number in the corner of their windshield, where New Yorkers put their inspection & registration stickers. They sell suction-cup things at the dollar store that you can use; many people have embroidered pillows that look like tooth fairy pillows. My first thought was, it's so you can call someone if you need them to move their car from the skinny street. But I've also heard that Korean cell phones come with a contact category for strangers--it's common to trade phone numbers with someone you've chatted with on the subway, for instance. Maybe when I get a phone, I'll start calling... ;)

There are multiple chain bakeries on every block, most of which have French names--Paris Baguette and Tous les Jours are the most common. These are great places to pick up a quick snack, with many options under $1. Stuff is usually labeled in English, too, so you actually know what's inside. The peanut butter baguette is good if you want something desserty--it's similar peanut butter to what you get in a sundae at Friendly's. My favorite is strewed bread...you know, with crumbs on top.

I'm collecting pizza ribbons. Since people are quite often on foot, packaging is designed to be carried some distance, and pizzas always come with a red ribbon around the box, tied up like a Christmas package so you can comfortably walk with it. Look for them in mailboxes near you this December.

Copy paper here is longer, size A4. 8 1/2 x 11" is nonexistent. Of course, the margins on Word are the same as in the US, and envelopes are no bigger, so you do a lot of adjusting & rejiggering.

I saw a middle-aged lady with gray hair on the subway last week, and it took a few moments to realize why she looked odd...Koreans almost universally dye their hair. If I offered money to find 5 gray-haired Koreans, it'd take you all day to collect.

Sidewalks are all made of paving stones, and always have a ridged yellow stripe down the middle. In certain spots, this yellow stripe changes from ridges to bumps. My best guess is that this is for blind people, to help them follow the sidewalk and know where intersections & crosswalks are. This is pure speculation, however. I also figured out that the buttons at crosswalks are for blind people...the light eventually changes no matter what, but if you push the button, it chirps when it does. People must have thought I was a wanker for pushing the buttons my first week here.

Seoul is beginning a major campaign to get people to walk on the right side of staircases & passageways in the subway. Since I've been here, bilingual "Keep Right" signs & arrows have been appearing on floors and steps all over the Metro system. They're fighting an uphill battle...if anything, Koreans seem particularly inclined to walk on the left. Especially if someone is already walking there.

My first day here, Ramsey was kvetching about the way Koreans walk. I figured he was just on a rant; then, when I noticed it myself, figured it was just because I'd been primed to look for it. But it's really hard to ignore. If you're walking down one side of the sidewalk, people will cut in front of you to squeeze between you and a wall. Even if you move to one side when approaching a couple holding hands, they will try to walk on either side of you rather than the clear path straight ahead. I got bulldozed by an old lady on the subway last night who came from behind me and HAD to dart in front of me right then...to get to a seat that was 4 feet behind me. Walking in a straight line seems to be prohibited by law. Factor in the usual folks on cell phones and strolling groups, and it tries one's patience. It's possible that it's just because I'm used to having sidewalks to myself most of the time in the US, but it's just so consistent...

I tend to think of the ubiquitous high-rise apartment blocks in Korea as fairly undesirable...kind of like they are in the US & other western countries--the projects, mostly. It wasn't until I read it in a book that I realized they're highly prized. I thought it odd that nobody I know lives in one, but that's because they're the high-rent district. People consider them modern and attractive, and, after living closer to street level for a few weeks, I see the appeal of keeping your visual and auditory distance.

Have I mentioned this before? Korea doesn't really do street names (although they are sort of attempting to change this), so giving directions to one's home is a complicated process. At home, when I go to a party, I jot down the last few turns/landmarks that happen within the neighborhood. Here, I have to print out the page (and it usually is a page) of explanations. "Take subway line 1 to the Hoegi stop and go out exit 2. Walk straight ahead approx. 300 meters" And on and on. Usually a Dunkin' Donuts is involved. "Look for the stack of kimchi pots, walk up the hill, and turn right at the little road near the top". And, always, a phone number..."If you get lost, call, and I'll help you".

Happy Holidays

It's been a quiet Friday. For me and for Seoul at large. This weekend is both Chuseok and Independence Day (I'd forgotten the latter until I saw flags flying from every streetlight), so things were definitely slow today. No mail, very little traffic, plenty of seats on the subway, and shuttered shops up & down the street. The pop music even stopped around 5 or 6. Having been home most of the day, that wasn't a second too soon. The corollary to the "don't travel this weekend" advice I often got was "it's really cool to be in Seoul at this time", and I agree. After 2 weekends in a row of nonstop action, I was ready to scale back a bit. Slept in today for the first time in 3 weeks, and spent the rest of my time reading (finally started Deathly Hallows; I'm on page 165 already), listening to NPR, and puttering. Made a brief sojourn to my mentor, Holly's apartment--it's like a real place, with cupboards and shelves and counters! She has a huge window, a view of trees, and no musical convenience store around. I'm envious, but also remembering that this is her second year, and her tales of last year's apartment are much more sobering, so I can take heart. Next year, I'll have storage, counters, and trees too. Holly made me lunch, chatted with me about teaching (as usual, I should have done less talking and more listening!), shared her lesson plans for this week, and even sent me home with a baggie of trail mix! I'm a bit overwhelmed by all the help & generosity I've received from both sides of the ocean while I've been here. It's helped SO much.

Yesterday was anything but quiet. Bolted from work to try to transfer money to my American bank, and mail stuff--succeeded with the mailing anyway. It would have been better if I'd done all of it earlier in the week, but if I haven't learned that lesson before now, what makes me think I'll suddenly change? Then dashed downtown to meet folks for a tour of Changdeokgung Palace, one of five in Seoul, and the first I've seen. Actually, it wasn't a tour at all...on Thursdays, you pay a lot more to have free run of the place. You get to poke your head into some places that usually aren't open, and see the full extent of the "secret garden", but the extra price and lack of interpretation make me think the usual tour would be preferable. After hearing of the vastness of this garden, I was expecting something like Versailles, but it was more like Ellison Park with Asian pavilions. Pretty nonetheless, and I'm never sorry for a chance to get away from concrete for a while. They had a Korean folk music variety show, so we got to sample the various instruments and singing styles of traditional Korean music. It was the first time I've heard the traditional stringed instrument, which name I don't remember, playing actual Korean stuff. Nothing I'd buy a CD of, but neat to get acquainted with.

In the absence of a guide, I wasn't able to do anything with the palace but walk around and take pictures...I really didn't get a sense of the place much. My friend Megan had taken the guided tour before, so she filled us in on what she remembered. I might need to visit museums on my own; I find it difficult to focus on the signs & absorb the information when others are around. It's interesting the way the rooms are all strung out and in different buildings so you have to go outside to get around--this in a country that sees winters not much different from ours. The whole place is like a sunporch, with walls of latticed doors, covered only with paper. It'd be great in the summer, but I don't know how they kept warm. Other than with floor heat--we saw the openings in the foundation where they'd stoke the fire. I'm not sure of the particulars of that, either. Everything's wood--the floors were a cool pattern, and the whole place had a delightful old-farmhouse smell. I don't know when floor heating was invented, or how they kept the whole place from immolating. The furnishings were pretty spartan. Obviously, they must have had more when the place was inhabited (and this one was until the 1980s), but I wonder whether it was as lavish as what you see in Europe. Plenty of palaces left to see; maybe I'll get some of my answers there. I can see how one might get palace fatigue--the architecture is strikingly similar in all the old buildings--but I'm definitely not there yet.

I was planning to go home after the palace, before heading to Itaewon later to see a band, but Megan was going right to Itaewon and I had nothing but pasta to eat at home, so I went with her. Itaewon is the international district, and while prices are determined based on the desperate and not-too-discerning foreigner, the options for something different are like siren song. Most of my compatriots have spent many a drunken night there; I've never done more than walk through once. We found a middle eastern place and happily tucked into hummus (pitas are extra; if you don't buy them...do you eat it with a spoon?) and falafel sandwiches. Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm! The place was run by Koreans, so I was worried that the falafel would have chili paste in it, but it tasted just exactly right. The hummus was essentially the falafel batter, but we were too enthralled with it to care. I knew we were in Itaewon because tax was extra and there was a tip jar.

After dinner, I tagged along with Megan to a pub where everyone speaks English and it was trivia night. Forgot I was in Korea until the American soldiers next to me lit their cigars inside and let them smolder all over us for 2 hours. I thought my team was putting down all the wrong answers, but turns out that was me. Guess I don't know so much after all. I was excited by the "where in the world" category, but most of the questions were sports-related. I did have one shining moment as the only person on my team who knew the song Ricky Nelson wrote after getting booed at a 1971 oldies show. It wasn't enough to save us, though--from the guys' reactions, I think it was a very bad night.

Left that pub for the concert venue. Was told the place was on Hooker Hill--"when you get to ------ intersection, just ask anyone with a crew cut where it is". Walked around wondering if I was in the right place, but when I reached Hooker Hill, there was no doubt. Once at the bar, though, I didn't see anyone I know, and being tired, and self-conscious in shorts, sneakers, & backpack, I decided to call it a night. Turns out I just missed Summer, but I'd had a full day anyway, and getting home while the subway was still running was a relief.

I actually talked to a middle-aged serviceman on the train--the first soldier I've exchanged words with. He assumed I was in the military too, and asked if I was a Ranger because I was skittering up the stairs with my backpack on. Fear of missing your train can give you the strength of 10 men, but another flight, and he would have been giving me CPR. Saw a few more of those Spam packs on the subway...the bag says "For Your Smile".

I've been reveling in my idle day, but I'm starting to get restless, and I remembered it's Friday night...time to get lost!