Here comes another scattered post from a scattered mind. I'm staying up tonight to hear Carl Kassel's last newscast, which happens at 1am my time. I sit surrounded by sundry pursuits...my 2010 engagement calender stacked on top of Lonely Planet Korea, with which I've been laying out sightseeing plans. My goal is a day trip, a weekend trip, and one Seoul sight a month...nothing set in stone, but if I don't sketch it out, before I know it, it'll be June and I'll have 6 weekend trips still on my wish list. I also have here Lonely Planet Japan, not needed 'til summer, but fat enough that I want to eke away at it over time; "A New Earth", one of those books that revolutionizes your mind, with a notebook for distilling the author's Deep Thoughts and a journal for pontificating on mine; Rand McNally 2000, my only link to the wonders of my homeland, facilitating dreams for next fall; a wad of foil and wax paper containing homemade bark; my Rick Steves Christmas DVD, which has inexplicably stopped working since last Monday, but hope springs eternal; a thin Korean notebook with random pictures on the cover, including one of Moki Dugway--had to buy it for that (actually bought it for 75 cents, which made the decision easy)...periodically, I clean off the couch, but it never stays that way for long...
Christmas has come and gone since I last wrote, and it was pleasant and even rather festive. I went to a Christmas Eve potluck where my contribution of boxed mac & cheese was cause for much rejoicing and I escaped the grab bag gift exchange with a much-needed winter scarf. Midnight Mass was nixed after I learned that getting inside involves queues reminiscent of a Star Wars opening, so I went to the Christmas morning service instead. Myeongdong Cathedral was built in the 1890s with brick, stained glass, and the works. In Europe, no guidebook writer would waste a keystroke on it, but in Seoul, it's quite remarkable, and I was glad I went as soon as I walked in. For the most part, I could have been anywhere--particularly Ireland, since that's where the priest is from--there were just a few subtle clues: the Korean women wore veils; there was no kneeling, wine, or hand-holding; and you "peace" people by bowing to them. I was fortunate enough to have presents--mostly socks--to open at "home", then off to another party. At this one, they collected money and did all the cooking, and it was something to write home about...so I am. Stuffing, tofu, vegetables, deviled eggs...and homemade applesauce. No bedtime snack necessary!
Sunday was a banner day. Met some friends for brunch in Itaewon. Itaewon is the international district, which means:
1. prices are double everywhere else
2. VAT is not included in said prices, like it is everywhere else
3. English is spoken automatically
4. You have to remember to say "Excuse me" if someone's in your way
5. It's easy to pretend you're home, just for a little while
We sat in the little "garden level" restaurant and watched Seoul's first measurable snowfall of the year come down. I ate a giant plate of phenomenal pancakes, covered in bananas, nuts, and ice cream. And way too much syrup (you don't pour your own). I felt kinda sick for hours afterward, but it was worth it. We moved on to What the Book?, the English bookstore, where I found a used copy of Gulliver's Travels. And the best part...requires some backstory:
Animal hats are big here. THE 'in' thing. Cats, bears, dogs, sheep...it doesn't matter. And whether you're 2 years old or in university (or middle school!) doesn't matter, either. Guys, girls, everyone is wearing animal hats. They're cute. They're quintessential Korea. The last thing I need is another ridiculous-looking hat....but I realized that if I wear it in Korea, I WON'T look ridiculous! Except for the fact that my head circumference is big by American standards, so in a place where everyone is already tinier than me--forget it. I tried one on in Gongju and it wasn't the ears and eyes that made it look dumb. Still, when I was downtown last week and saw the "wolf-in-sheeps-clothing" hat being sold by Paris Baguette, it was a very strong temptation. But the hats weren't for sale as such; they were a giveaway if you bought a Christmas cake (the preferred celebratory accessory in Korea). Prices went up from $20. Nah. As you may have already guessed, though, Sarah and Diana bought a Paris Baguette Christmas cake on Friday, and they gave me the hat! Good friends, they! It's awfully cute in my apartment here, but maybe I'll have to wear it home in February.
Monday was the last day of school--I've seen "Merry Christmas Mr. Bean" close to 20 times now--and the reward for us teachers was a free trip to a ski resort. Transportation, meals, lift ticket, ski rental, condo accommodation, and even a bag of snacks were all included. I spent the night in a palatial (by comparison) unit with 6 young Korean teachers, 4 of whom were afraid of me (though 2 were over it by the end of the evening). I wondered if I was foolish for eschewing free lessons, but after the first run, I got my ski legs back. After hiking Korea's vertical mountains, I'd been concerned about what skiing here entails, but there were a couple of greens (although they don't use that system exactly) and I managed not to break anything. Except for the hopeless English on the gondola signs (and a few other places: "please warming up before the skiing" was one of the better translations), it could have been anywhere.
The whole endeavor was billed as a "workshop", and the schedule showed a few sessions for "talking about next year" as Terrie told me. She also said, "Probably that means drinking," and it was so. Again, it strikes me how the differences between countries aren't linear...it's not that one is "more" than the other; things just manifest in different ways. We did have one short meeting this morning, where everyone pulled a slip of paper from a can, read it to the group (I gather they were bon mots about teaching), then got a wrapped package corresponding to a number on the paper. Generally, people don't know what to do with me, and either decide to be overweening, or deal with it by pretending I'm not there. I hoped the latter might be the case in this instance, but my "babysitter" for the trip prevented that. I chose my strip and, without once looking at the audience, read it syllable by syllable, and got my gift--a tube of toothpaste. With pictures of rice plants on it. Wonder how that's gonna taste.
Have I mentioned that Koreans brush their teeth every time they eat? I noticed that toothbrushes are always sold in a super-economy pack, which I wrote off as a cultural quirk, but now I understand--even if you're just one person, you need a bunch of them. One for home, one for work, one to keep in your purse/pocket, etc, etc. Not only does everyone brush after lunch, but if we have a snack in the office, they're all over at the sink afterward. I feel like an adolescent boy by comparison.
So I'm off to school tomorrow, with serious doubts about whether anyone else will be there. Even if they're not, though, I have "camp" for the next 2 weeks, and having only been filled in on this right before we left yesterday, I've got a bit of planning to do. Gotta make sure I remember my longjohns!
PS--my new camera is (hopefully) on its way across the ocean as I write, so with any luck, I'll have photos to post again before too long
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Notes from Underground
Things I've learned on the Seoul Metro:
--If there's nobody on the platform it doesn't mean that you're going to get a seat on the train. It means that your train just left, and it'll be plenty crowded by the time the next one comes.
--If you get on the train, and there are a ton of seats, it means it'll be going out of service sometime very soon (probably before your stop).
--In a similar vein, I've learned to sight-read Cheongnyangni, the stop before mine, and look for it on the train's screen (if it has them). Whatever the time or station, odds are good that the first train that arrives is terminating there, so I need to wait for the next one unless I fancy a walk.
--Sounds: ringing phone-train is coming
classical dirge-this is the last stop
Mozart excerpt/jaunty jazz riff-upcoming stop...I've been working on distinguishing the pattern--does one mean a stop with transfers? something else? I haven't come to any definitive conclusions
blaring K-pop-someone's phone is ringing
tinny, mournful music-coming from the radio hanging from the neck of the blind person walking down the aisle with a collection plate
unintelligible Korean on the PA-???? Just do whatever everyone else does.
--Subway trains are a great place to buy cheap stuff. People clamber in with wheeled carts and give a little spiel, usually with a demo straight out of a 50s parody. In the summer, it was band-aids, household helpers, and other unlikely stuff; now it's almost universally stretch leggings. I actually want some. They look super cozy, and I need more long underwear. What am I waiting for?
--If Koreans are running in the station, you might want to step lively, too. They probably know exactly when the train is coming.
--Acceptable train activities: napping (Korean=narcoleptic), reading, talking on your phone, watching tv on your phone, fawning sycophantically over your boyfriend/girlfriend, making faces at babies, giving candy to young children, giving the stinkeye to everyone else, chinning yourself on the standee handles, trying to stand wherever you're not
--Seats may be scarce, but if you're on one of the older trains with metal seats during heating season, you probably don't want one anyway, unless you're wearing really thick pants.
--Old people must get off the train RIGHT NOW. Do NOT get in their way.
--There's a hierarchy to who gets the open seat on a crowded train. I don't understand it, but on more than one occasion, I've been handpicked via a tug on my jacket by an older person vacating their seat.
--The red seats at the ends of the cars are for people who are old, frail, or pregnant. God have mercy on your soul if you sit there without qualifying. Standing in that area is best avoided as well.
--Wherever you're sitting, there IS somewhere better, and you really should find it. If a seat opens up, it's best to move to it, even if it is more or less identical to where you just were. The spot at the end of the row is the Chosen Spot, for the Very Lucky.
--Any given car will contain: 20 businessmen, 25 students, one parent with young child(ren), 2 unaccompanied kids, 6 hikers with enough gear to thru-hike the AT, 1 waygook, 2 old ladies done up like Leona Helmsley, 1 old lady carrying a huge bundle in a pink scarf, 6 middle-aged women with shopping bags, 1 person who wants money from you for some reason, and 5 wild cards.
--When the doors open, it's every man for himself.
--If there's nobody on the platform it doesn't mean that you're going to get a seat on the train. It means that your train just left, and it'll be plenty crowded by the time the next one comes.
--If you get on the train, and there are a ton of seats, it means it'll be going out of service sometime very soon (probably before your stop).
--In a similar vein, I've learned to sight-read Cheongnyangni, the stop before mine, and look for it on the train's screen (if it has them). Whatever the time or station, odds are good that the first train that arrives is terminating there, so I need to wait for the next one unless I fancy a walk.
--Sounds: ringing phone-train is coming
classical dirge-this is the last stop
Mozart excerpt/jaunty jazz riff-upcoming stop...I've been working on distinguishing the pattern--does one mean a stop with transfers? something else? I haven't come to any definitive conclusions
blaring K-pop-someone's phone is ringing
tinny, mournful music-coming from the radio hanging from the neck of the blind person walking down the aisle with a collection plate
unintelligible Korean on the PA-???? Just do whatever everyone else does.
--Subway trains are a great place to buy cheap stuff. People clamber in with wheeled carts and give a little spiel, usually with a demo straight out of a 50s parody. In the summer, it was band-aids, household helpers, and other unlikely stuff; now it's almost universally stretch leggings. I actually want some. They look super cozy, and I need more long underwear. What am I waiting for?
--If Koreans are running in the station, you might want to step lively, too. They probably know exactly when the train is coming.
--Acceptable train activities: napping (Korean=narcoleptic), reading, talking on your phone, watching tv on your phone, fawning sycophantically over your boyfriend/girlfriend, making faces at babies, giving candy to young children, giving the stinkeye to everyone else, chinning yourself on the standee handles, trying to stand wherever you're not
--Seats may be scarce, but if you're on one of the older trains with metal seats during heating season, you probably don't want one anyway, unless you're wearing really thick pants.
--Old people must get off the train RIGHT NOW. Do NOT get in their way.
--There's a hierarchy to who gets the open seat on a crowded train. I don't understand it, but on more than one occasion, I've been handpicked via a tug on my jacket by an older person vacating their seat.
--The red seats at the ends of the cars are for people who are old, frail, or pregnant. God have mercy on your soul if you sit there without qualifying. Standing in that area is best avoided as well.
--Wherever you're sitting, there IS somewhere better, and you really should find it. If a seat opens up, it's best to move to it, even if it is more or less identical to where you just were. The spot at the end of the row is the Chosen Spot, for the Very Lucky.
--Any given car will contain: 20 businessmen, 25 students, one parent with young child(ren), 2 unaccompanied kids, 6 hikers with enough gear to thru-hike the AT, 1 waygook, 2 old ladies done up like Leona Helmsley, 1 old lady carrying a huge bundle in a pink scarf, 6 middle-aged women with shopping bags, 1 person who wants money from you for some reason, and 5 wild cards.
--When the doors open, it's every man for himself.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Gongju Getaway
After the nightmarish bus ride back from Daegu, I decided to stick closer to Seoul for my December escape, and the Gongju trip was an ideal weekend: perfect weather, interesting sights, and smooth sailing from beginning to end.
Gongju itself is a pleasant town, on a river, surrounded by mountains, under the watch of a centuries-old fortress. (granted, that could describe just about every town in Korea, but the effect is no less appealing) Its glory days were in the early Centuries of our Lord, when Korea consisted of three kingdoms and Gongju did time as the capital of one of them, Baekje.
In 1971, crews were digging in one of Gongju's hills for a drainage project when they discovered a cluster of tombs that turned out to be from the 6th century. Most were long-looted, although their structure still provided insight into the death and times of the Baekjes. The tomb of King Muryeong, however, was completely intact, providing not only a chance for modern historians to do some looting, but also important corroboration of ancient legends.
The outside of the tombs are grass humps, familiar to westerners with some knowledge of either Celtic habits or the Teletubbies, and familiar to Koreans as the form still used for graves today. The insides, recreated in a very nicely done exhibit at the tomb site, were impressively engineered, with crypt and arched entry of lotus-stamped bricks, murals of spiritual animals on the walls, and a ring of niches for lamps (they had to hope that the king & queen would head out for the afterlife before the candles burned out). I was particularly fond of the stone critter that guarded the entry to the tomb, resembling Haechi (Seoul's mascot) with a single antler tied to his head like the Grinch's dog, and proving that the Korean penchant for using cartoon characters in every conceivable (and inconceivable) context didn't start with anime.
The recreated tomb (as of discovery--no extant corpses) really enthralled me. My inner archaeologist/anthropologist could feel the excitement of finding something like that, and the allure of the story it told...the way things lay where they had fallen, the way they were direct, visible evidence of the existence of people that I can never completely convince myself were real. We hiked over to the Gongju National Museum (leaving our packs with the kind lady at the TI, who had us write down our names when we retrieved them) to see the relics, where I again felt the awe of looking at actual objects that were crafted by actual people 1500 years ago. Earrings, necklaces, ornaments for the crown, mirrors, shoes, head- & footrests, all decorated in exacting detail by people to whom they mattered. I envisioned someone dressed in all this stuff walking in to the museum and realized it would be terrifying, less because they'd be a ghost, and more because that getup would be so radical amidst the skin-tight jeans and day-glo Nikes and bear hats (themselves unsettling if I hadn't become completely inured) as to be truly freaky.
Speaking of freaky, the metal construction fence that lined most of our walk to the museum was decorated with murals telling what I assume is some sort of folktale. A man chases a blue rabbit, falls into a lake of some sort, where he is rescued by a bear with a cub. They all live happily together, until the man starts to dream of his former home and sneaks out one night to swim back across the lake. The bear is devastated by his departure, and swims across to find him, nearly drowning herself and the (now two) cubs. The man finds them unconscious on the beach, and there is a tearful reunion, but his expression in the embrace is cryptic. I tried to ask one of my co-teachers, but we got hung up on the concept of pictures on a wall, so I remain on a quest to discover the meaning of this.
The weekend's other highlight was a visit to Magoksa (temple). I'd almost axed it from the itinerary, as it's an hour's bus ride from Gongju and the temples do tend to bear a strong resemblance to one another. But Lonely Planet had high praise for it, Diana had never seen a temple here, and I was able to reconfigure our plans to comfortably accommodate it, so on Saturday morning, we made our way to the Gongju bus terminal and were off to the mountains. Unlike most temples, this one has not been recently repainted in a Fisher Price palette, making it much easier to appreciate its age (350). Its setting astride a wide stream, features like a two-story prayer hall (unusual) and shrine with hundreds of little Buddha statues (all different), and relative uncrowdedness all made it particularly pleasant and more spiritual than others. I would have been happy just with that, but I also got to hike a short trail into the mountains, walking through trees on dirt and needles, and meeting only a handful of others (one of whom pointed out a Buddha carved in the rock that I would not have seen otherwise). I don't know when the last time any of THAT has happened.
We missed the next bus for the sake of seeing an odd little park with all kinds of carved totems and statues, and buildings that look like they were inspired by Dr. Seuss. Unfortunately, with the dark LCD on my camera, I was unaware of its death rattle, and got "home" to find that only about 10% of the weekend's pictures turned out. I'm waiting for Diana to post hers so I can steal them.
A couple other random details:
We stayed in a typical Korean hotel, leaving our shoes in cubbies by the front door and walking around in provided slippers. The room was strikingly similar to the one in Sokcho, except that this time the heat was on. With a vengeance. I didn't have the blanket fully over me at any time, and it wasn't until the second night, when I slid my hand under the pillow and found it hot under there, that I deduced what the switch on the mirrored headboard was for. The bed was heated, too. I could use a little of that at home!
I took my big, woods backpack this time, and was pleased that although it was reasonably heavy, it rode quite comfortably and wasn't a burden to walk in. All the same, when the young Korean man offered us a ride halfway to the bus station, I accepted without a second thought. I'm sure that will horrify many of you back home, and indeed I probably wouldn't have done it back home, but it's routine in Korea. For every 30 people who unapologetically slam into me or insist on walking in front of me only to stop dead at a narrow spot, there's someone who goes out of their way to be helpful, and they remind me what Korea really is--a nation of preoccupied introverts who are usually pretty nice.
Gongju itself is a pleasant town, on a river, surrounded by mountains, under the watch of a centuries-old fortress. (granted, that could describe just about every town in Korea, but the effect is no less appealing) Its glory days were in the early Centuries of our Lord, when Korea consisted of three kingdoms and Gongju did time as the capital of one of them, Baekje.
In 1971, crews were digging in one of Gongju's hills for a drainage project when they discovered a cluster of tombs that turned out to be from the 6th century. Most were long-looted, although their structure still provided insight into the death and times of the Baekjes. The tomb of King Muryeong, however, was completely intact, providing not only a chance for modern historians to do some looting, but also important corroboration of ancient legends.
The outside of the tombs are grass humps, familiar to westerners with some knowledge of either Celtic habits or the Teletubbies, and familiar to Koreans as the form still used for graves today. The insides, recreated in a very nicely done exhibit at the tomb site, were impressively engineered, with crypt and arched entry of lotus-stamped bricks, murals of spiritual animals on the walls, and a ring of niches for lamps (they had to hope that the king & queen would head out for the afterlife before the candles burned out). I was particularly fond of the stone critter that guarded the entry to the tomb, resembling Haechi (Seoul's mascot) with a single antler tied to his head like the Grinch's dog, and proving that the Korean penchant for using cartoon characters in every conceivable (and inconceivable) context didn't start with anime.
The recreated tomb (as of discovery--no extant corpses) really enthralled me. My inner archaeologist/anthropologist could feel the excitement of finding something like that, and the allure of the story it told...the way things lay where they had fallen, the way they were direct, visible evidence of the existence of people that I can never completely convince myself were real. We hiked over to the Gongju National Museum (leaving our packs with the kind lady at the TI, who had us write down our names when we retrieved them) to see the relics, where I again felt the awe of looking at actual objects that were crafted by actual people 1500 years ago. Earrings, necklaces, ornaments for the crown, mirrors, shoes, head- & footrests, all decorated in exacting detail by people to whom they mattered. I envisioned someone dressed in all this stuff walking in to the museum and realized it would be terrifying, less because they'd be a ghost, and more because that getup would be so radical amidst the skin-tight jeans and day-glo Nikes and bear hats (themselves unsettling if I hadn't become completely inured) as to be truly freaky.
Speaking of freaky, the metal construction fence that lined most of our walk to the museum was decorated with murals telling what I assume is some sort of folktale. A man chases a blue rabbit, falls into a lake of some sort, where he is rescued by a bear with a cub. They all live happily together, until the man starts to dream of his former home and sneaks out one night to swim back across the lake. The bear is devastated by his departure, and swims across to find him, nearly drowning herself and the (now two) cubs. The man finds them unconscious on the beach, and there is a tearful reunion, but his expression in the embrace is cryptic. I tried to ask one of my co-teachers, but we got hung up on the concept of pictures on a wall, so I remain on a quest to discover the meaning of this.
The weekend's other highlight was a visit to Magoksa (temple). I'd almost axed it from the itinerary, as it's an hour's bus ride from Gongju and the temples do tend to bear a strong resemblance to one another. But Lonely Planet had high praise for it, Diana had never seen a temple here, and I was able to reconfigure our plans to comfortably accommodate it, so on Saturday morning, we made our way to the Gongju bus terminal and were off to the mountains. Unlike most temples, this one has not been recently repainted in a Fisher Price palette, making it much easier to appreciate its age (350). Its setting astride a wide stream, features like a two-story prayer hall (unusual) and shrine with hundreds of little Buddha statues (all different), and relative uncrowdedness all made it particularly pleasant and more spiritual than others. I would have been happy just with that, but I also got to hike a short trail into the mountains, walking through trees on dirt and needles, and meeting only a handful of others (one of whom pointed out a Buddha carved in the rock that I would not have seen otherwise). I don't know when the last time any of THAT has happened.
We missed the next bus for the sake of seeing an odd little park with all kinds of carved totems and statues, and buildings that look like they were inspired by Dr. Seuss. Unfortunately, with the dark LCD on my camera, I was unaware of its death rattle, and got "home" to find that only about 10% of the weekend's pictures turned out. I'm waiting for Diana to post hers so I can steal them.
A couple other random details:
We stayed in a typical Korean hotel, leaving our shoes in cubbies by the front door and walking around in provided slippers. The room was strikingly similar to the one in Sokcho, except that this time the heat was on. With a vengeance. I didn't have the blanket fully over me at any time, and it wasn't until the second night, when I slid my hand under the pillow and found it hot under there, that I deduced what the switch on the mirrored headboard was for. The bed was heated, too. I could use a little of that at home!
I took my big, woods backpack this time, and was pleased that although it was reasonably heavy, it rode quite comfortably and wasn't a burden to walk in. All the same, when the young Korean man offered us a ride halfway to the bus station, I accepted without a second thought. I'm sure that will horrify many of you back home, and indeed I probably wouldn't have done it back home, but it's routine in Korea. For every 30 people who unapologetically slam into me or insist on walking in front of me only to stop dead at a narrow spot, there's someone who goes out of their way to be helpful, and they remind me what Korea really is--a nation of preoccupied introverts who are usually pretty nice.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Fabulous Adventures of Week (-36)
Danger! Danger! I'm starting to believe they mean it when they say I'm going to Jeju Island with the EEP kids in January. They bought a plane ticket for me yesterday, and today Terrie was making specific plans about who'd be responsible for which group. I chose 1A because their English is the best, so I'll be able to communicate with them, but it also means I'm in charge of Jeffrey Dahmer and the girls who never shut up. Still, Jeju is called "Korean Hawaii"...it's a bit of a stretch--it'll be plenty cold in January--but I'll still be glad to get there and I'm looking forward to doing something fun with the kids instead of just making them dread my existence. I wrote it in pencil on my calendars, and I've been wary of actually planning on it, but I'm getting frighteningly optimistic.
Proud of myself for resisting the allure of a Tony the Tiger mug AND a fleece blanket, and buying the cheaper cereal I actually wanted. Proud of myself for going to HomePlus at all...it's a very long walk on a very cold night.
Seoul has been extremely cold this week. (though I guess nothing like y'all in New York are getting) I had to turn on the heat in my apartment, at last. So the floor is hot most of the time, which is often nice and sometimes annoying. I have to be careful where I set things down, especially since I don't really have any tables, so the floor is the default receptacle. Not having a dresser is actually proving to be a plus. The only thing I don't get is that the bathroom isn't heated. With the size of my place, it's not as if it gets cold in there, especially since it has no outside walls, but going from the toasty main room floor to typical tile temperature is a bit of a shock.
The bathrooms at school fare no better. When I went in during EEP last night, I heard water running and noticed that the faucet hadn't been turned off completely. BOTH faucets, in fact. Damn kids...but wait. Fortunately, I avoided causing a major crisis by cottoning on that they were running on purpose, to keep the pipes from freezing. 'Cause it IS that cold in there.
The corridors, too, required some attention this week. The steel staircase and bridge on the temporary building gets a nice icing, so one of the pink & green construction blankies has been laid across, trading the security of not slipping for the very real hazard of tripping over the wads at either end. The water filters on each level also proved dangerous--lacking cups, the kids just turn the water on and stick their heads under...what they don't catch pools on the floor. I don't know how many people took an unintentional skate before someone finally salted the halls.
This week was the end of EEP, at least until the new school year starts in March. No more 12-hour days--yay! No more fat supplementary paychecks--boo! The school did allot us teachers $100 to go out drinking in celebration last night.
If I eat another rice cake, I'll gag. As high school placements are announced, jubilant parents are drowning us in the traditional Korean celebratory food. With the texture of Dots, the taste of flour, and the glycemic index of a doughnut, I'm not a huge fan. Actually, some of them don't taste like flour alone. The gift boxes come with a flavor variety, and they're a lot like Bertie Botts' Beans--some have chestnuts or other nice things; others you need to discreetly spit out FAST. I've got 2 on my desk now--one's been rolled in sawdust and the other is a seaweed green. I'm ALMOST curious enough about the green one to try it.
I've been having the kids write letters to Santa. Not free-form--I am learning something--but a fill-in-the-blank thing where they have to say what they want, why they deserve it, and what they're going to leave for Santa. Korean kids have Santa, but the rest of it is foreign to them. I had to explain that American children usually leave cookies for Santa to eat, and even with that, the stuff they promised to have out for him was a hoot: some had the general idea with ice cream or chocolate; several offered socks or cash, one wrote "love and a picture of me", and another thought a razor would be appropriate.
Proud of myself for resisting the allure of a Tony the Tiger mug AND a fleece blanket, and buying the cheaper cereal I actually wanted. Proud of myself for going to HomePlus at all...it's a very long walk on a very cold night.
Seoul has been extremely cold this week. (though I guess nothing like y'all in New York are getting) I had to turn on the heat in my apartment, at last. So the floor is hot most of the time, which is often nice and sometimes annoying. I have to be careful where I set things down, especially since I don't really have any tables, so the floor is the default receptacle. Not having a dresser is actually proving to be a plus. The only thing I don't get is that the bathroom isn't heated. With the size of my place, it's not as if it gets cold in there, especially since it has no outside walls, but going from the toasty main room floor to typical tile temperature is a bit of a shock.
The bathrooms at school fare no better. When I went in during EEP last night, I heard water running and noticed that the faucet hadn't been turned off completely. BOTH faucets, in fact. Damn kids...but wait. Fortunately, I avoided causing a major crisis by cottoning on that they were running on purpose, to keep the pipes from freezing. 'Cause it IS that cold in there.
The corridors, too, required some attention this week. The steel staircase and bridge on the temporary building gets a nice icing, so one of the pink & green construction blankies has been laid across, trading the security of not slipping for the very real hazard of tripping over the wads at either end. The water filters on each level also proved dangerous--lacking cups, the kids just turn the water on and stick their heads under...what they don't catch pools on the floor. I don't know how many people took an unintentional skate before someone finally salted the halls.
This week was the end of EEP, at least until the new school year starts in March. No more 12-hour days--yay! No more fat supplementary paychecks--boo! The school did allot us teachers $100 to go out drinking in celebration last night.
If I eat another rice cake, I'll gag. As high school placements are announced, jubilant parents are drowning us in the traditional Korean celebratory food. With the texture of Dots, the taste of flour, and the glycemic index of a doughnut, I'm not a huge fan. Actually, some of them don't taste like flour alone. The gift boxes come with a flavor variety, and they're a lot like Bertie Botts' Beans--some have chestnuts or other nice things; others you need to discreetly spit out FAST. I've got 2 on my desk now--one's been rolled in sawdust and the other is a seaweed green. I'm ALMOST curious enough about the green one to try it.
I've been having the kids write letters to Santa. Not free-form--I am learning something--but a fill-in-the-blank thing where they have to say what they want, why they deserve it, and what they're going to leave for Santa. Korean kids have Santa, but the rest of it is foreign to them. I had to explain that American children usually leave cookies for Santa to eat, and even with that, the stuff they promised to have out for him was a hoot: some had the general idea with ice cream or chocolate; several offered socks or cash, one wrote "love and a picture of me", and another thought a razor would be appropriate.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I wrote a lesson...and it was okay.
We are in the lame duck phase of the school year. Finals were last week, and winter break is still 6 school days, or 22 classes with Melissa, away. (not that I'm crossing off marks in my planbook or anything) The students care even less than before--that is, apparently, possible--but now nobody else does, either. So I'll be showing a lot of Merry Christmas, Mr. Bean in the next couple of weeks.
My original plan was to read The Polar Express to the kids. Fortunately, I'm showing signs of being able to recognize impossibly difficult material BEFORE I bring it into the classroom, so I limited that book to EEP evening classes, which are far more advanced. In good teacher form, I showed the kids the picture of a train on the front cover and asked them what they thought the story would be about (tricky when 1/3 of the class has seen the movie). Our little Dahmer's apprentice, a tiny kid who wouldn't recognize a pencil unless it was sticking out of someone's throat (and would have a fat file of psychiatric referrals if he were American), suddenly got very animated and answered my question for the first time this semester...in Korean. Another student translated his prediction, the gist of which was "murder in the subway". I ruined any chances of him paying attention by telling him upfront that there's absolutely no blood in The Polar Express, but the other kids didn't seem to mind. When I was camping with Terrie, she pointed out that the students are really still children. Though it's not top of mind when they're writing "fuck you teacher" on their worksheets, the point has stuck with me, and when everyone is listening avidly to a story about Santa Claus, shifting absentmindedly in their seats as I move about so they don't miss a single glimpse of the pictures, it hits home.
I got to share another of my Christmas favorites, in yet another lesson where my "supplementary activity" became the focal point. I finally had my first class with the low-level 1st graders, and the plan was to read The Snowy Day, then do a word puzzle about winterwear. En route to class, I decided to warm up with the winterwear--wise choice. One of my friends has been teaching this vocabulary to her 3rd graders (and here I do mean 8-year-olds), but that doesn't mean that my kids are all that firm on it. We spent the entire period on 9 clothing terms, and then inspiration struck--why not teach this to the other classes using the "can't put my arms down" sequence from A Christmas Story? I found it, cued precisely where I need it, on YouTube, and, miraculously, Randy wears exactly the items that I put on the worksheet! The only ones missing are a jacket and earmuffs...and Ralphie's wearing those! PERFECT!
The yang to this yin is that, instead of the 12 or 21 repetitions my lessons usually get, this one's a 3-and-out. Bummer. I had one great class with it, and was actually looking forward to the second, but I got there and the projector didn't work, so the kids saw the scene as if looking through frosted glass. But one class got to watch, actually laughed, then went through it a second time with pauses to identify each article. We made a list of them, dressed a stick man they named Michael Jordan, and they did their word puzzle. The way lessons are supposed to be. One great class. I'll take it.
My original plan was to read The Polar Express to the kids. Fortunately, I'm showing signs of being able to recognize impossibly difficult material BEFORE I bring it into the classroom, so I limited that book to EEP evening classes, which are far more advanced. In good teacher form, I showed the kids the picture of a train on the front cover and asked them what they thought the story would be about (tricky when 1/3 of the class has seen the movie). Our little Dahmer's apprentice, a tiny kid who wouldn't recognize a pencil unless it was sticking out of someone's throat (and would have a fat file of psychiatric referrals if he were American), suddenly got very animated and answered my question for the first time this semester...in Korean. Another student translated his prediction, the gist of which was "murder in the subway". I ruined any chances of him paying attention by telling him upfront that there's absolutely no blood in The Polar Express, but the other kids didn't seem to mind. When I was camping with Terrie, she pointed out that the students are really still children. Though it's not top of mind when they're writing "fuck you teacher" on their worksheets, the point has stuck with me, and when everyone is listening avidly to a story about Santa Claus, shifting absentmindedly in their seats as I move about so they don't miss a single glimpse of the pictures, it hits home.
I got to share another of my Christmas favorites, in yet another lesson where my "supplementary activity" became the focal point. I finally had my first class with the low-level 1st graders, and the plan was to read The Snowy Day, then do a word puzzle about winterwear. En route to class, I decided to warm up with the winterwear--wise choice. One of my friends has been teaching this vocabulary to her 3rd graders (and here I do mean 8-year-olds), but that doesn't mean that my kids are all that firm on it. We spent the entire period on 9 clothing terms, and then inspiration struck--why not teach this to the other classes using the "can't put my arms down" sequence from A Christmas Story? I found it, cued precisely where I need it, on YouTube, and, miraculously, Randy wears exactly the items that I put on the worksheet! The only ones missing are a jacket and earmuffs...and Ralphie's wearing those! PERFECT!
The yang to this yin is that, instead of the 12 or 21 repetitions my lessons usually get, this one's a 3-and-out. Bummer. I had one great class with it, and was actually looking forward to the second, but I got there and the projector didn't work, so the kids saw the scene as if looking through frosted glass. But one class got to watch, actually laughed, then went through it a second time with pauses to identify each article. We made a list of them, dressed a stick man they named Michael Jordan, and they did their word puzzle. The way lessons are supposed to be. One great class. I'll take it.
Monday, December 14, 2009
100, and getting senile
My public is getting antsy because I haven't written in a while. Actually, it HAS been longer than I thought--a number of factors account for it.
This is my 100th blog. I feel like it should be a Good One, but nothing Good is springing forth. There's the one on names I've been meaning to write for 2 months now. The one about the subway that's been marinating even longer. It almost became an entry on why I miss my car, because that was top of mind a couple times last week. But I never got the focus and the drive to pick up the computer and write, at least not at any time where that was an option.
I've been writing a lot in other venues, too. Finally started the blog for kids I've been thinking of since before I left (find it at www.auntlissatravels.blogspot.com). "I want to travel with kids" keeps ringing through my head, and until I can literally do that, virtual will have to suffice. When I get home, I'll need to put some serious effort into the after school program idea that turned up a couple years ago and has steadfastly refused to leave. I do think it's my life's work, and it's time to get going.
These thoughts have also caused a profusion of journaling (not to mention converting this blog from a travelogue to navel-gazing rambles). While I like Korea, I can't honestly say I'm enjoying this, but it is having the desired effect of giving me a good shake. To date, this year gives every appearance of being the watershed I expected, and a ton of my energy is being consumed by sitting on the couch. Really. There's so much to think about and sift through, it's all I want to do.
I'm also reading two very thought-provoking travel books: Blue Highways, and Traveling with Pomegranates. The first, a classic by an amazing writer, making me want to mark passages just for their artistry. The second is a mother and daughter journey chronicle, and I'm unable to get through a whole chapter without reaching for my journal. Lots to think about. Not much to talk about. Unless you've got a while.
I thought I'd made it past the "three-month hump". I'd figured it would be somewhere around Thanksgiving, and when the magic 3-month mark came and went, I concocted a theory about having been away for more than 3 months already, so it actually should have happened in August, but that was when I came here, so that changed things, and maybe the doldrums of early October were all I'd get, blah, blah, blah. Right. I'm not at 4 months yet, and settling embers of homesickness have ignited again. Online chat has been a godsend, but at the same time it makes me tear my hair out; and likewise, the gift that is Skype is also frustratingly inadequate. I want actual face-to-face, sights, smells, non-verbal cues, the whole thing. I want to be & do with people, spend time in someone's company without talking, just have it be normal for a little bit. Time both flies and drags. It is still 9 long weeks before I visit home; 9 unbelievably long months before I get to stay there.
Despite my insatiable appetite for "cave time", I have been forcing myself out. Just spent the weekend in Gongju--full report to come; getting out of Seoul never seems to lose its lustre. Went downtown a couple times last week. It's all glitzed out for Christmas, and is quite cheery. Nothing can quite replace that red triangle in the building windows, but it does compensate nicely. Got to see what a Korean field trip looks like on Friday--everyone wandering to a museum within an hour or so of the appointed time, wandering around for a couple hours more, then calling it a day. One of the teachers didn't even make the kids stay with her, and I was specifically told not to. The last few months' context has made the exhibits much more interesting to me, but I was unable to enjoy the Korean War section thanks to a hustler who followed me like a lost dog, reading the placards and expounding at length (but not in depth). As soon as he pulled out a laser pointer, I knew--one of these people who hangs around tourist sights and acts the friendly local, then hits you up for money when it's too late to say no. I've read about it in other countries; I guess it happens here, too. Here are 2 random facts I did glean: The spikes on the "back" of Korean turtle boats were to thwart the Japanese navy, whose specialty was ship invasions. When they jumped on Korean boats, they got impaled....and....the "Korean War" is obviously not an appellation that means much here. It's their civil war, known as "6/25" (just like we say 9/11), the date in 1950 when Northern armies stormed into Seoul.
Reconstituted some refried beans for dinner tonight. They make me think of Grand Teton, where I made them with water heated in my JetBoil, and ate them on a log at the shores of Jackson Lake, enjoying a stunning sunset and watching a picnicking family nearby. I think wistfully of it because it was there and not here, but also feel an aversion to it as the time Before, when all of this was still to come.
This is my 100th blog. I feel like it should be a Good One, but nothing Good is springing forth. There's the one on names I've been meaning to write for 2 months now. The one about the subway that's been marinating even longer. It almost became an entry on why I miss my car, because that was top of mind a couple times last week. But I never got the focus and the drive to pick up the computer and write, at least not at any time where that was an option.
I've been writing a lot in other venues, too. Finally started the blog for kids I've been thinking of since before I left (find it at www.auntlissatravels.blogspot.com). "I want to travel with kids" keeps ringing through my head, and until I can literally do that, virtual will have to suffice. When I get home, I'll need to put some serious effort into the after school program idea that turned up a couple years ago and has steadfastly refused to leave. I do think it's my life's work, and it's time to get going.
These thoughts have also caused a profusion of journaling (not to mention converting this blog from a travelogue to navel-gazing rambles). While I like Korea, I can't honestly say I'm enjoying this, but it is having the desired effect of giving me a good shake. To date, this year gives every appearance of being the watershed I expected, and a ton of my energy is being consumed by sitting on the couch. Really. There's so much to think about and sift through, it's all I want to do.
I'm also reading two very thought-provoking travel books: Blue Highways, and Traveling with Pomegranates. The first, a classic by an amazing writer, making me want to mark passages just for their artistry. The second is a mother and daughter journey chronicle, and I'm unable to get through a whole chapter without reaching for my journal. Lots to think about. Not much to talk about. Unless you've got a while.
I thought I'd made it past the "three-month hump". I'd figured it would be somewhere around Thanksgiving, and when the magic 3-month mark came and went, I concocted a theory about having been away for more than 3 months already, so it actually should have happened in August, but that was when I came here, so that changed things, and maybe the doldrums of early October were all I'd get, blah, blah, blah. Right. I'm not at 4 months yet, and settling embers of homesickness have ignited again. Online chat has been a godsend, but at the same time it makes me tear my hair out; and likewise, the gift that is Skype is also frustratingly inadequate. I want actual face-to-face, sights, smells, non-verbal cues, the whole thing. I want to be & do with people, spend time in someone's company without talking, just have it be normal for a little bit. Time both flies and drags. It is still 9 long weeks before I visit home; 9 unbelievably long months before I get to stay there.
Despite my insatiable appetite for "cave time", I have been forcing myself out. Just spent the weekend in Gongju--full report to come; getting out of Seoul never seems to lose its lustre. Went downtown a couple times last week. It's all glitzed out for Christmas, and is quite cheery. Nothing can quite replace that red triangle in the building windows, but it does compensate nicely. Got to see what a Korean field trip looks like on Friday--everyone wandering to a museum within an hour or so of the appointed time, wandering around for a couple hours more, then calling it a day. One of the teachers didn't even make the kids stay with her, and I was specifically told not to. The last few months' context has made the exhibits much more interesting to me, but I was unable to enjoy the Korean War section thanks to a hustler who followed me like a lost dog, reading the placards and expounding at length (but not in depth). As soon as he pulled out a laser pointer, I knew--one of these people who hangs around tourist sights and acts the friendly local, then hits you up for money when it's too late to say no. I've read about it in other countries; I guess it happens here, too. Here are 2 random facts I did glean: The spikes on the "back" of Korean turtle boats were to thwart the Japanese navy, whose specialty was ship invasions. When they jumped on Korean boats, they got impaled....and....the "Korean War" is obviously not an appellation that means much here. It's their civil war, known as "6/25" (just like we say 9/11), the date in 1950 when Northern armies stormed into Seoul.
Reconstituted some refried beans for dinner tonight. They make me think of Grand Teton, where I made them with water heated in my JetBoil, and ate them on a log at the shores of Jackson Lake, enjoying a stunning sunset and watching a picnicking family nearby. I think wistfully of it because it was there and not here, but also feel an aversion to it as the time Before, when all of this was still to come.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Friday #(-37)
I just came within 3 points of acing Africa. My latest online addiction/time-waster: a geography quiz that requires you to identify places on a map. Some I'm utter rubbish at (provinces of Germany or Afghanistan, for instance), others (states/capitals of US or Canada) such gimmes as to be pointless more than once, but I've been practicing Africa all week, and thought tonight might be the night I get a perfect score. Which Republic of Congo is Democratic, and discerning Liberia/Ivory Coast/Sierra Leone still elude me, though. Reason to keep playing!
I'm having a night in. I've been a hermit all week, briefly considering inviting people to accompany me, but always dismissing the idea. Trying to decide if this is a phase, a sign, forced acclimation, or really nothing new at all. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe I feel like talking to someone right now. When you're on an odyssey, everything's a signpost. Some are irrelevant, but you don't know which ones.
We had a "workshop" for Dongbu's middle school teachers today. I love the Korean definition of workshop--an hour presentation, then a great big field trip. The presenter was one from orientation (half-relieved, half-dismayed it wasn't Nick)--I thought this guy was brilliant in August, but today the emperor was wearing cellophane. An avalanche of PowerPoints, techno tricks, and lesson seeds, all given in ADD order, is no longer very useful to me. I've got more ideas than I can keep track of; what I need now is guidance on taking one seed and cultivating it until it blooms into something that's not ugly and smelly. But this presenter gets a lot of mileage out of extroversion and charisma, and someone who comes by things naturally is not always the best choice to show another how it's done. Nor does it help that my colleagues at Hwigyeong view games, etc as a waste of time. While English Variety Show may in fact be engaging and educational, and probably just what the students need, my co-teachers ain't buyin' it.
So after an hour's edification, we piled onto a bus and drove an hour and a half into the countryside. Looking out the window suited me immensely, and I did so happily until they fogged up. Is it something inherent in Korean buses, or am I just not on enough American ones to realize? They took us to lunch at a traditional Korean place where they boil up beef soup at your table (bibimbap, sans egg, for me)--it must be some sort of conditioning thing because all the waygooks get fidgety after sitting on the floor for a few minutes--then to the English Village in Gapyeong, where I won't be going with the EEP kids this winter break (they're taking them to Jeju Island instead, and Terrie's the only teacher they're willing to spring for). Picture a mountain resort, or boarding school, or cult compound. With 18 different experience classrooms (store, airport, art, board games, and on and on), hotel for the kids (in America, we call them "dorms"), and barracks for the teachers, groups of 120 students can come hole up in the hills for 5 days to get a total immersion experience. There are expensive A/V setups, ovens in the kitchen (eliciting much envied murmuring from our group), nature trails out back...all kinds of evidence explaining why our schools can't stock chalk. If I were going to do a second year in Korea, this place would definitely merit serious consideration. What would it be like if I had a focused curriculum, engaging props, and grass & trees to walk with every night? Alluring enough to justify 90 minutes each way for every E-Mart run or museum visit? Another Deer Hill? Would I have boxes of the same lesson plan, typed over and over on ream after ream of paper? A moot point, 'cause come August, I'm headed home as fast as wings and wheels will carry me.
Our final stop today was Nami Island, or, as they style it, The Republic of Naminara. Manmade and site of soap opera filming, two things Koreans find irresistable. I've been finding them pretty appealing myself. This one is island enough to require a short ferry ride, after which I spent most of our allotted hour walking the perimeter. Contrived, certainly, but comfortable and enjoyable nonetheless. I shared the hard-packed path with bicycles, surreys, and other strollers, passing empty steel boat rental docks, build-by-number bungalows, random maintenance buildings (with at least one rooster on premises), and lots of foliage, albeit brown & dormant. The weather was ideal, sunny and seasonably brisk but without bite. Maybe it's the intense communality of Seoul, but hiring a bungalow and basking on the front porch in view of mountains and lake while legions of holidaymakers parade past the back didn't sound half bad. Placards outside listed the cost (anywhere from $70 for a weekday shack to $250/night for an 8-person weekend), and other features, including "Stationaries": bedding, toothpastes, and towels. It'd be charming. It was charming. A lovely day at work.
I'm having a night in. I've been a hermit all week, briefly considering inviting people to accompany me, but always dismissing the idea. Trying to decide if this is a phase, a sign, forced acclimation, or really nothing new at all. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe I feel like talking to someone right now. When you're on an odyssey, everything's a signpost. Some are irrelevant, but you don't know which ones.
We had a "workshop" for Dongbu's middle school teachers today. I love the Korean definition of workshop--an hour presentation, then a great big field trip. The presenter was one from orientation (half-relieved, half-dismayed it wasn't Nick)--I thought this guy was brilliant in August, but today the emperor was wearing cellophane. An avalanche of PowerPoints, techno tricks, and lesson seeds, all given in ADD order, is no longer very useful to me. I've got more ideas than I can keep track of; what I need now is guidance on taking one seed and cultivating it until it blooms into something that's not ugly and smelly. But this presenter gets a lot of mileage out of extroversion and charisma, and someone who comes by things naturally is not always the best choice to show another how it's done. Nor does it help that my colleagues at Hwigyeong view games, etc as a waste of time. While English Variety Show may in fact be engaging and educational, and probably just what the students need, my co-teachers ain't buyin' it.
So after an hour's edification, we piled onto a bus and drove an hour and a half into the countryside. Looking out the window suited me immensely, and I did so happily until they fogged up. Is it something inherent in Korean buses, or am I just not on enough American ones to realize? They took us to lunch at a traditional Korean place where they boil up beef soup at your table (bibimbap, sans egg, for me)--it must be some sort of conditioning thing because all the waygooks get fidgety after sitting on the floor for a few minutes--then to the English Village in Gapyeong, where I won't be going with the EEP kids this winter break (they're taking them to Jeju Island instead, and Terrie's the only teacher they're willing to spring for). Picture a mountain resort, or boarding school, or cult compound. With 18 different experience classrooms (store, airport, art, board games, and on and on), hotel for the kids (in America, we call them "dorms"), and barracks for the teachers, groups of 120 students can come hole up in the hills for 5 days to get a total immersion experience. There are expensive A/V setups, ovens in the kitchen (eliciting much envied murmuring from our group), nature trails out back...all kinds of evidence explaining why our schools can't stock chalk. If I were going to do a second year in Korea, this place would definitely merit serious consideration. What would it be like if I had a focused curriculum, engaging props, and grass & trees to walk with every night? Alluring enough to justify 90 minutes each way for every E-Mart run or museum visit? Another Deer Hill? Would I have boxes of the same lesson plan, typed over and over on ream after ream of paper? A moot point, 'cause come August, I'm headed home as fast as wings and wheels will carry me.
Our final stop today was Nami Island, or, as they style it, The Republic of Naminara. Manmade and site of soap opera filming, two things Koreans find irresistable. I've been finding them pretty appealing myself. This one is island enough to require a short ferry ride, after which I spent most of our allotted hour walking the perimeter. Contrived, certainly, but comfortable and enjoyable nonetheless. I shared the hard-packed path with bicycles, surreys, and other strollers, passing empty steel boat rental docks, build-by-number bungalows, random maintenance buildings (with at least one rooster on premises), and lots of foliage, albeit brown & dormant. The weather was ideal, sunny and seasonably brisk but without bite. Maybe it's the intense communality of Seoul, but hiring a bungalow and basking on the front porch in view of mountains and lake while legions of holidaymakers parade past the back didn't sound half bad. Placards outside listed the cost (anywhere from $70 for a weekday shack to $250/night for an 8-person weekend), and other features, including "Stationaries": bedding, toothpastes, and towels. It'd be charming. It was charming. A lovely day at work.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Uijeongbu
I had a pleasant surprise tonight. Actually, one this afternoon and another yesterday, too. First things first: yesterday, after racking my brains for hours over how to begin with my new first grade classes (the 3rd graders have ceased having subject classes, so in their place, I'm teaching the 6 lower-level 1st grades) and still not having a complete lesson plan, the English teachers decided that introducing me now would be too disruptive right before finals, so I won't take the new classes until the week after next. They also decided they needed extra time with the 2nd grade classes they had yesterday, so I ended up not having to teach at all. Good timing--I think I was fighting off swine flu, and was quite content to keep my headache and fever at my desk, where I didn't have to exert myself.
My lesson this week is on giving directions. I was afraid it would be too easy--I found a 5-street map in a workbook and was limiting the vocabulary to "go down the street", "turn right/left", and "it's on your right/left". In my lone class today, we never got that far. The workbook with the map also had some locating questions, ie "Where is the supermarket?"; "It's across from the bank." "Where is the gas station?"; "It's on Maple." Sounds like a good warm-up. I made a giant map to hang in the front of the room, and printed worksheets with the map and the 4 vocabulary elements, so everything was not only at the front of the classroom, but on the students' desks as well. I went through and named all the streets with the kids. I introduced one bit of vocab at a time. I asked, "Where's the bank?" and pointed to it on the map. I said "It's on Elm" and ran my finger up and down Elm Street, then pointed to the bank again. I had the kids chorus "It's on Elm" a couple of times. Then I asked individuals "Where's the bank?". Nobody knew.
But on to more hopeful things. On the way out this afternoon, Terrie asked me if I walk around and explore my neighborhood. When I told her I do virtually every day, she started talking about how she found a great area in her own neighborhood that's "old Seoul" (aka 1970s), and offered to take me for a walk there next week when we get out early. Cool!! That also reminded me that I'd once planned to set aside Wednesday nights for exploring different parts of the city, but have gotten out of the habit. But it's Wednesday, I had nothing planned, and after spending most of the last 2 evenings napping, I was ready to get out and see the town.
I unfolded my Seoul map and scanned the possibilities, but my attention kept wandering to the subway map. My original intent was to pick a random station and just see what went on in the area. I've done downtown to death, so I decided to head up Line 1 (where I live) in the opposite direction, and check out Uijeongbu, the terminus for many northbound trains, and one of the funnier names on the line.
It's not quick or cheap to get all the way there, but Uijeongbu is definitely going to be part of my regular round. At first glance, it looked just the same as everywhere else, and I thought I was a sucker for trekking all the way up there. A few minutes' walk down the main drag brought me to a huge Christmas "tree" (a la Liberty Pole) with multi-colored lights. It was a cheery sight, and though the green (or tan, this time of year) it's on is fenced off, 3 girls had gone in anyway and were laughing and taking photos, making it seem alive and festive. There was a park across the street, too, giving me a much wider view of the smoggy sky than I'm used to here. I turned the corner and decided to check out the library.
Behind the library was a large, hilly, treed park, with paths winding this way and that. Exactly what I've been looking to take my evening walk in for 3 months!! One path led up into the trees, passing the obligatory exercise equipment and some seriously cool playground stuff. There were slides coming out of a gaping frog's mouth, a snaking truck tire tunnel that must have been 20 yards long, and a rambling arbor with dozens of rings hanging on long ropes. I almost wanted to play with it myself. There was a climbing wall, and, though I've never seen a skateboard in Korea, a small skate park at the top. Behind the skate park--bliss!--were wooded hills. "Wooded hills"....completely inadequate words to convey the simultaneous elation and serenity of finding myself in such a place. An expressway rushed by just out of sight--not usually what I would wish for in a park, but tonight it was perfect. The place felt exactly like Tryon. I realized I've spent probably 1/3 of my time on Earth within earshot of 590, and the sound was actually kind of refreshing. I wanted to lose myself in the trees, stay in there forever, but, it being night, there was the chance of doing exactly that, so my explorations will have to wait for another, hopefully not-too-far-off time.
The highway wasn't the only unusual sound in the park. I walked the network of paths to the accompaniment of Christmas music, coming from speakers mounted on lightpoles and trees. Koreans abhor both nature AND a vacuum, so strive to make every outdoor experience as similar to a city street as possible. Thus, music in parks is pretty routine here. Apparently, there isn't a lot of Korean Christmas music, so I've had the privilege of hearing a lot of familiar stuff lately, and, somehow, walking through the woods with Bruce Springsteen singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" suited me tonight.
My lesson this week is on giving directions. I was afraid it would be too easy--I found a 5-street map in a workbook and was limiting the vocabulary to "go down the street", "turn right/left", and "it's on your right/left". In my lone class today, we never got that far. The workbook with the map also had some locating questions, ie "Where is the supermarket?"; "It's across from the bank." "Where is the gas station?"; "It's on Maple." Sounds like a good warm-up. I made a giant map to hang in the front of the room, and printed worksheets with the map and the 4 vocabulary elements, so everything was not only at the front of the classroom, but on the students' desks as well. I went through and named all the streets with the kids. I introduced one bit of vocab at a time. I asked, "Where's the bank?" and pointed to it on the map. I said "It's on Elm" and ran my finger up and down Elm Street, then pointed to the bank again. I had the kids chorus "It's on Elm" a couple of times. Then I asked individuals "Where's the bank?". Nobody knew.
But on to more hopeful things. On the way out this afternoon, Terrie asked me if I walk around and explore my neighborhood. When I told her I do virtually every day, she started talking about how she found a great area in her own neighborhood that's "old Seoul" (aka 1970s), and offered to take me for a walk there next week when we get out early. Cool!! That also reminded me that I'd once planned to set aside Wednesday nights for exploring different parts of the city, but have gotten out of the habit. But it's Wednesday, I had nothing planned, and after spending most of the last 2 evenings napping, I was ready to get out and see the town.
I unfolded my Seoul map and scanned the possibilities, but my attention kept wandering to the subway map. My original intent was to pick a random station and just see what went on in the area. I've done downtown to death, so I decided to head up Line 1 (where I live) in the opposite direction, and check out Uijeongbu, the terminus for many northbound trains, and one of the funnier names on the line.
It's not quick or cheap to get all the way there, but Uijeongbu is definitely going to be part of my regular round. At first glance, it looked just the same as everywhere else, and I thought I was a sucker for trekking all the way up there. A few minutes' walk down the main drag brought me to a huge Christmas "tree" (a la Liberty Pole) with multi-colored lights. It was a cheery sight, and though the green (or tan, this time of year) it's on is fenced off, 3 girls had gone in anyway and were laughing and taking photos, making it seem alive and festive. There was a park across the street, too, giving me a much wider view of the smoggy sky than I'm used to here. I turned the corner and decided to check out the library.
Behind the library was a large, hilly, treed park, with paths winding this way and that. Exactly what I've been looking to take my evening walk in for 3 months!! One path led up into the trees, passing the obligatory exercise equipment and some seriously cool playground stuff. There were slides coming out of a gaping frog's mouth, a snaking truck tire tunnel that must have been 20 yards long, and a rambling arbor with dozens of rings hanging on long ropes. I almost wanted to play with it myself. There was a climbing wall, and, though I've never seen a skateboard in Korea, a small skate park at the top. Behind the skate park--bliss!--were wooded hills. "Wooded hills"....completely inadequate words to convey the simultaneous elation and serenity of finding myself in such a place. An expressway rushed by just out of sight--not usually what I would wish for in a park, but tonight it was perfect. The place felt exactly like Tryon. I realized I've spent probably 1/3 of my time on Earth within earshot of 590, and the sound was actually kind of refreshing. I wanted to lose myself in the trees, stay in there forever, but, it being night, there was the chance of doing exactly that, so my explorations will have to wait for another, hopefully not-too-far-off time.
The highway wasn't the only unusual sound in the park. I walked the network of paths to the accompaniment of Christmas music, coming from speakers mounted on lightpoles and trees. Koreans abhor both nature AND a vacuum, so strive to make every outdoor experience as similar to a city street as possible. Thus, music in parks is pretty routine here. Apparently, there isn't a lot of Korean Christmas music, so I've had the privilege of hearing a lot of familiar stuff lately, and, somehow, walking through the woods with Bruce Springsteen singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" suited me tonight.
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