Scary stories, and Happy New Year!

"You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting."

This line from the movie "Gladiator" always had a way of shaking me up. I mean the power with which Russell Crow says it to Maximus at the end is so victorious! Then I realized just today that the line was taken from a horror story in the Bible. In Daniel 6, when King Belshazzar brings out the stolen golden goblets, stolen from the temple of the Lord, to serve his nobles and concubines and praises the gods of gold and silver. Suddenly, the fingers of a human hand appear and writes something on the plaster walls. When enchanter or diviner is able to interpret the writing, Belshazzar summons Daniel, who was appointed chief of the magicians, enchanters and diviners, a title which would probably ostracize Daniel if he were living among Christians today. Daniel interprets the writing and in v. 27 tells the king, "You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting."

The story is a reminder that God is so much less caucasian, conservative, Western, lecture-style, linear-minded, white bread, pews and liturgies than we thought. He's horrific! I mean Belshazzar kicks back for a weekend party, busts out the fine china for his guests, and the group, impressed by the gold goblets, praise the maker of gold and silver, which they believe to be a divine being. Then, all of the sudden, a human finger forms and begins writing on the wall. Belshazzar collapsed out of fear! How different is the scene from "The Shining," when "Redrum" appears on the walls? Belshazzar is told that God has numbered his days, that he falls short and that his glory will be given to his neighbors. Then, that evening, Belshazzar is slain.

God is horrific! And it's all over the Bible, but unfortunately, reading the same passages about exorcisms and miracles can sometimes take all the magic out of the truth. I realize to some people that sounds like an oxymoron--magic and truth. But I don't think it is. I suppose the words magic and miracles carry different connotations for Christians, but essentially, they're the same kind of happening, each drawing the power from different sources.

A few weeks ago, I was leaving the house to meet my friends downtown when something peculiar happened. I bundled up for the cold winter air that had almost kept me from going out at all and stumbled down 3 flights of stairs to find Hyunsuk on the main level, talking.... I looked around the dark room and saw no one with whom she might be talking. She wasn't holding the cell phone to her ear either, but she appeared to be talking to someone outdoors. She stared out the glass entrance to the church and chattered away. When she saw me coming, she turned to acknowlege me, and I asked her, "who are you talking to?"

"Church member," she replied.

"Outside?" I asked.

"No," she said calmly, smiling as she shook her head. And that was it!

I looked around the room again, checking the corners for hidden people, but again, I saw no one.

Dumbfounded and speechless, I said "o...ok?" and "goodnight." Heading outside, I did a couple double-takes to see if she was still standing there, making conversation with her invisible church member friend.

Later, when I relayed this story to my friends, Eli and Heidi, and my coworker, Patrick, they were just as weirded out. Patrick tried to think of other explanations and asked, "are you sure she wasn't talking on her phone?" But the truth is, I'm sure she was talking to a ghost or some sort of spiritual being. Why not? God is spooky.

I don't think God would ever send me a ghost or an isolated hand writing death curses on walls because I think he knows it would scare me, even if I do believe in them.

Anyway, speaking of things that are a little bit strange yet awesome, 2009 is over! Happy New Year everyone!

One year ago, Nick and I went to a party together to celebrate the new year. I remember being crazy in love with each other that night. I thought he was going to propose any day during our winter vacation. And he did propose, two and half months later.

In the past year, I got engaged, graduated from college, and came to Korea to teach English to children. Not too shabby. And in the year to come, I'll come home, get married and,... well, only God knows what's to come in this adventure.

Last night, I celebrated with many of the wonderful people I've met! It was a really sweet time. (Also in weird news, it was pretty weird to not hear Auld Lang Syne coming out of the televisions speakers at The New Yorker, a local restaurant/bar, last night. They played this other song, which sang, "Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" Fitting, I guess.)

Blessings to you all in 2010!

Playing Santa, Beautiful Busan

Playing Santa

Christmas is not as big in Korea as it is in the states. In fact, most of my students had no plans for Christmas day because the national holiday is for couples and Christians rather than families and heavy commercialism. JiHey told me a few times that no gifts would be given on

Christmas, but I couldn't imagine a Christmas without gifts. So I made it my mission to play

Santa Clause this year and spent Christmas eve shopping along Youngdae for the Kim family.

Within ten minutes, I readily committed to a scarf and two matching fleece pullovers for Hyunsuk and the girls. However, despite having five brothers, I've always been terrible at picking out gifts for male recipients. It's not that I have any sort of major failure on my record to crush my confidence, but I just can never seem to think of a super gift for the men in my life. Add in a few cultural differences and the task becomes even more challenging. Luckily, my coworker Patrick introduced me to a few of his Korean friends who had the afternoon off and were able to help me out a bit. With the help of HyungWoo and ByungMoo, I found a scarf and tie in KyungSan suitable for both MinWoo and Moxanim. (Yes, men wear all kinds scarves, and it's totally masculine and stylish!) Meanwhile, Patrick's chingus (friends) taught me several Korean idioms and cultural rules. For example, a comic book is an inappropriate Christmas gift because it doesn't promote studiousness. I taught them the expression "out of my league," and they returned the favor by teaching me "keurim y duk," or painting of a rice cake--an idiom used for a person who is unapproachably attractive.

On Christmas morning, I laid out their gifts anonymously before anyone was up and about, then I coached myself to plead Santa, should they try to thank me. I think they were on to me anyway. Hyunsuk was the first to notice the gifts and thanked me right away. When I acted ignorant and suggested Santa Clause, she said something "yea, ...ok, thank you!" JiMin laughed at my Santa excuse and asked me, "Are you Santa Claus?" Then she wrote a thank you note addressed to "Sally Santa." It was fun playing Santa! I look forward to doing it again someday with my children.

Beautiful Busan

At noon, I met Gloria, one of my Korean friends, at Dongdaegu Station to take a KTX train to Busan for the day. Couple with linked arms were everywhere, and to be honest, it made me want to cry a few times. (At one point, I was on a busy subway in the middle of three different couples, cuddling and flirting with each other. I had to keep changing my gaze to keep from staring and missing that sort of affection.) It was a good day to be in the company of girls and experiencing new aspects of Korea. A good day to want to be in Korea. It was also a good time to come visit my friend Heidi because we're both in serious relationships but away from the person we love. Heidi's boyfriend is working in China until February.

Gloria and I met up with another Korean friend, Linda, who is from Busan and knows her way around pretty well. We went to Jagalchi Market, which is basically rows and rows of people selling different kinds of fish. Linda taught us the Jagalchi Market expression "Come and see and buy!" After avoiding eye contact with several aggressive merchants, a trustworthy fish merchant put a live flounder and two other unknown fishes in a deep red basket and then directed us to the dining area to eat our purchases--fresh and raw--and served with rice, stew, and sides, of course. I surprised myself. Delicious!

After eating our fill of sashimi, we squeezed our way through the crowds to browse through other market items, including socks with Obama, Starbucks and Korean won bill prints for 1,00o won each ($1.) It takes a long time to get through the crowds. It's exhilarating for the first hour, then it's tiresome. Heidi finished work and met up with us for dinner, coffee and a movie in her small studio apartment. We watched "Four Christmases" on her laptop computer and enjoyed the warmth of being with friends on Christmas night.

On Saturday, Gloria, Linda and I went to Haeundai Beach, which was beautiful beyond words. My favorite part was the seagulls. Take a look at the video down below.

We also visited Nurimaru, the site of the 2005 APEC summit, an event which put Busan on the world map for global tourism. It sort of baffled me how the building was made for the sole purpose of a single global leader meeting, but is now being used as a tourist attraction. Anyway, here's a picture of George W. Bush in hanbok. I wonder if he was wearing traditional garb as he discussed WTO negotiations with other foreign leaders.

After walking around the beach for a while, we rushed off to a subway so that I could catch a train with enough time to get back to Jilyang for my Saturday class Christmas party. All in all, it was a good time and a merry Christmas, indeed!

Not an eggzact science

I earned my lowest ACT score in high school for the science competency test. I've never really liked science. Partially because science always seemed much less scientific to me than it did to others around me. When I was in high school, my experiments never turned out right. I mean the vials rarely had the color or texture they were supposed to have, though I'd followed the directions verbatim. I often handed in lab logs with my fingers crossed, hoping my instructor would give me an 'A' for effort despite my failed results. Precision is not my forte.

Justin studied chemical engineering in college, and even his rationale for English grammar rules is strangely reminiscent of a chemist or mathematician. He outlines the rules for difficult grammar questions with a simple formula. He liked to talk about how not to catch H1N1 and knows about why MSGs are bad. Justin likes science.

When I first arrived in Korea, he had me teaching a science course for the English camp. I found it funny that they would need to learn science at English camp, but to really learn a language, one must learn the vocabulary associated with everything! Now, Korean students are on winter vacation, so a science/conversation course has been added to entertain and educate during the break. And I'm teaching it. Justin gave me a thick, spiral-bound book called 730 Science Experiments for Kids. (He said he was going to use it for his daughter someday, but they're packing to move back to the states, and he thought I could use it.) The new class is on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so I thought we could do a simple science experiment once per week and use the other two sessions to review science vocabulary and just practice simple non-scientific conversational English.

Today, we conducted an experiment titled "Detecting a Hard-Boiled Egg." According to the book, a cooked egg spins and will stop when touched lightly with one finger, but an uncooked egg wobbles and doesn't stop moving when touched lightly with one finger. The raw egg keeps moving due to the laws of intertia, which state that moving things have a tendency to keep moving and still things have a tendency to stay still. I bought about two dozen eggs from a local grocery mart and mixed the cooked eggs with the uncooked ones in the egg carton. I brought two clear glasses, so that we could test our hypothesis by cracking the eggs open. I explained the idea and taught the students "spin," "wobble," "cooked" and "raw." Then we conducted our experiment.

On one hand, the book was right. A cooked egg spins very quickly while a raw egg wobbles like a penguin doing the hokey-pokey, turning itself around. On the other hand, the book was not exactly right because it's not impossible to spin a raw egg if you use enough force. And I was working with three little boys! Also, a hard-boiled egg sometimes moves when stopped as well, if the "light" touch of a little boy's finger is actually quite forceful and abrupt for example. The type of motion that marks the difference. A cooked egg still sways a bit, but a raw egg rolls.

Thus as we conducted the experiment, we sometimes guessed a cooked egg and found out it was actually raw, or vice versa. We got it right several times, though, and teacher got better at recognizing the egg behaviors.

Two things were concretely accomplished through today's experiment: 1. I realized how important it is to train young scientists in the technique of accuracy in order to achieve accurate results. If I were to do it again, I would emphasize that they use a one-handed spin and stop the egg with a light finger-touch rather than a full-handed stop. Then, they should wait a moment after releasing the egg and observe the type of motion. 2. They had a lot of fun spinning and cracking eggs in English class! Even despite our inaccuracies.

White elephant gift exchanges are not an exact science, either. That's obvious, I suppose. Yesterday, we had a Christmas party after Dongshin service and introduced the white elephant gift game to the Koreans. My friend, Nate, and I were pretty certain that getting a high number is better than a low number, because those who go toward the end have a roomful of gifts to steal while those with a low numbers are usually too enticed by the pile of unopened packages to steal even a covetable gift from someone else. My number was 5 out of about 30. Nate had a twentyish number.

I grabbed the most interestingly wrapped package I could see and unopened a fake yellow tulip plant with a little green frog charm sticking out of it. Pretty cute, but useless for someone like me who doesn't care for cutesy decorations without a semi-permanent home in which to display them. I acted amused and settled down to watching others unwrap, thinking to myself, "No one is going to steal a fake plant." A Hello-Kitty recorder, a nose massager, a giant jar of Prego, pink bunny slippers and a pair of numb chucks, which Nate proudly bought at a Home Plus Mart, were some of the more interesting gifts. (I contributed a gold piggy bank, hwajangsil sticker and some chocolates.) White elephant gift exchanges are a spectacle anyway, so I wasn't too disappointed.

But to my surprise, some middle-aged Korean woman eventually stole away my fake plant, giving me another chance at the pile. This time I looked for texture and unwrapped a large bag of pumpkin-flavored jelly candy. Several Koreans seemed impressed, but I don't even like pumpkin pie or pumpkin bread. I was surely finished. Nate even commented that my pumpkin candy was a done deal. Yet again, to our surprise, another Korean woman envied the pumpkin jellies. I shopped around the room and stole a gift bag with a neat looking coffee cup and nice teas. I guess one man's trash is another man's treasure, especially when playing with a diverse crowd. It's not a science, but it was a really great time!

Sunday night silliness

When I got home on Saturday from my late night Bible study in Daegu, JiHey was shuffling around the house to a recognizable tune of sniffles and sneezes. She had somehow caught my cold. I felt bad about giving it to her, but I felt even worse as I tried to conduct class over her Kleenex swipes and nose blows. A couple other students were missing due to final exams, which left only two, so I concluded we should take a week off.

JiHey took some medicine and settled in for a nap as I headed to Hayang to meet SuJung and search for a winter coat that might blend in with the big city blacks and charcoal grays of Daegu. (I’d started to feel a bit silly in my red Columbia coat among a sea of neutral toned pea coats and formal parkas.) SuJung helped me find a beautiful gray coat for a reasonable price. We ate duk-buki at a small duk-buki diner and watched a Korean game show, which she translated for me. SuJung had to study, so I went home to entertain myself. I downloaded “My Sister’s Keeper” and balled my eyes out. (It’s a good one.)

On Sunday, I went out to Papa John’s for some pizza with my Dongshin friends. Some of the pizza in Korea has been less than impressive to me. Really lacking in sauce. But the Papa John’s was pretty good! Then someone suggested that we go to a Norae Bong with the objective of singing only Christmas songs. For the first 30 minutes or so, we successfully maintained a purely Christmas playlist. But sooner or later, American pop songs made their way into sing-a-long. Here’s a video of us singing, “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.”

Singing rooms usually include a couple of microphones, tambourines and maracas. As opposed to karaoke in the U.S., a singing room feels a bit less like performance and more like a bunch of friends singing together.

After an hour of singing, we met a few other people at a local coffee shop, where we snagged a glass-enclosed, private room in the back corner. We sat around a big table and played a Korean drinking game with a twist. Usually, one player points a gun-shaped hand at others and says “Gong!” “Gong!” “Chil!” or “Bang!”--passing an imaginary bullet from person to person around the room. Gong means 0 and chil is 7, so, in other words--007 Bang! Instead of drinking, we forced the messer-uppers (would-be-drinkers) to perform a sort of dare for the rest of us. Due to my blunders, I wound up balancing a book on my head for several minutes and performing ten seconds of the macarena.

The coffee shop closed at 11 p.m. and pushed us out in the chilly air once more. Our group dwindled down, and those who were left found warmth in a hookah bar with an Arabian ambience. (Maybe they’re all Arabian. Not sure. It was my first time in a hookah bar, though I tried hookah one time with Saudi friends.) According to the menu, the tobacco in hookah is nicotine and tar free. People who enjoy hookah like to entertain ways to release the smoke from their body. Straw props included. The remaining six of us enjoyed mint-flavored hookah and talked about our dream jobs and our childhood memories.

I stayed out too late to catch the bus home, but woke up early enough to make it home with a shower and a meal before work.

As I sat on the subway, I thought about how much my social life has changed since I’ve been in Korea. I’ve had more fun going out at night in Korea than I ever had in college. My roommate in college used to tell me that I should stay out late more. She considered it part of the college experience. But in college, I often did what I thought was the responsible thing. I always had something to do the next day. Sometimes I knew of a more “sensible” social event to attend.

But she was right. It’s fun to stay out late with people. It takes time, hours, to have a shared experience. Stick around because the sweetest, richest fellowship doesn’t come from a quick round of prayer requests. It’s fun to be with people. Whether silly or serious.

So as I sat at the bus stop on a Monday morning, watching people go off to work, to their somewhere-to-be, I felt very thankful. Thankful, somehow, that God put me in a situation where I would be so lonely and desperate for friendship that I wouldn’t take my opportunities for granted. It’s a gift, I think.

Speaking of gifts, the anticipation of Christmas is in the air. As an exercise in speaking directions last week, I asked my students tell me how to draw a snow man on the board, playing devil’s advocate, of course. I made them specify "big circle" and "above," "between" or "next to." Most of my kids enjoyed decorating the snowmen with scarves, mittens and bucket-hats. (It’s a Korean thing. As well as strawberry noses, I learned!)

The weather is not at all snowy. Sometimes it’s even warmish in the middle of day. But the subway stations have holiday trees on display and someone put up Christmas lights in the front of the Jilyang church today. My church has been rocking around the advent wreath each Sunday, and next week, we will have a white elephant gift exchange after service. Meanwhile, I got a Christmas package in the mail. Thanks, Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa!

Conquering a cold

After my long rest on Sunday night, JiMin presented me with a kitty-cat face mask to cover my mouth and nose when I go out. Despite being a bit (for some reason) miffed at the offering, I thanked her and reminded myself of the good intentions behind her actions. Face masks in all shapes, sizes and designs are very popular in Korea. Joel even said once that he saw a music video with a Korean pop star wearing a sequined mask. They're a fashion statement. The first time I saw someone with a mask on I almost took it personally. What? They think I carry diseases or something... I thought. Kinda stupid, right? I vowed to never succumb to the mask. But I have to admit I've considered it more than once this week. The picture above is a display of some masks at a local stationary store.

A cold came over me on Wednesday morning. It was pretty much just a runny nose thing, so I started to pump up the fluids and vitamin-c drinks. Mrs. Joe asked me if I was sick, and I said only a little. One can never be too careful about admitting illness in Korea, unless one prefers to be smothered. I tossed and turned that night, trying to find a position in which my air flow wouldn't be obscured by my snot. Falling in and out of sleep makes for a long, unrestful night. So in the morning, when I'd almost completed a full roll of toilet paper and couldn't do much of anything without sneezing, I realized it was time to admit I needed some medicine, lest I spray my students with germs during class.

Moxanim almost immediately recommended I go to the hospital. I said I didn't want to, and could we try some medication at the pharmacy first? Moxanim questioned me about my throat and asked if I was cold at night, just in case I'd played down any other cold symptoms. I assured him it was only a runny nose. In the United States, we self-medicate a lot because health care is so expensive. In Korea, health care is free, and so many people go to the doctor when they feel even a little under the weather, which is exactly the kind of behavior that most Americans fear. But people don't talk about it like it's a terrible thing to do when you get a cold. It's just what people do!

I've pondered this phenomenon quite a bit since I've been here. I wonder if a hospital full of common cold patients is more of a scare in the states because there are not enough hospital workers in America. These days, most Americans are too lazy to go to school for that long. Koreans on the other hand don't fear hard work as much. (At least this is how it seems to me.) Or if it's just because, of course, private health care would be in danger if there were a public health option, and there's already an economic crisis in the world. Also, Koreans, in general, are more concerned about their health than Americans are. They probably do so much preventive health care that they don't have as many major surgeries or operations as we have that cost the health insurance companies a ton of money. All of this is just observation and reflection anyway. I haven't followed the health care debate real closely in Korea, but I understand that currently the Senate is considering the public option as a last resort and trying first to pressure private insurance companies to make health care more affordable.

Anyway, my trip to the pharmacy... Moxanim did the talking, and I was given a small paper bag with three things in it: a set of 3 pills, 3 packets of a brown powdery substance, and one plastic packet of a Chinese medicinal juice. According to Moxanim's instructions, I could drink the juice right away and take the other two after eating lunch. The juice was bitter but bearable. It was the brown powdery substance that made me gag. (Moxanim sort of chuckled to himself after giving me the instructions and grabbed a candy from a jar in the kitchen.) The light blue wrapping had a picture of a cartoon red face with a drippy nose. It was cute and seemingly important to stop my symptoms, so I poured the powder in my mouth and chased it down with water.

My runny nose persisted off and on throughout the day, but I fell into a deep sleep last night. And I'm feeling much better today, though my throat was scratchy this morning. I bought some Halls this morning at a convenience store, and the packaging said "vapor-action, honey lemon candy." Candy? Now, that's my kind of medicine!

What a weekend!

Despite such a strong new beginning, loneliness, which I'd forgotten about during Nick's stay, made a reappearance in my life toward the end of last week. I resolved to be extra social on the weekend to compensate. I'm the sort of person that declines invitations to socialize when I think the outing might be too expensive or tiring. But I acted against my lazy brain and went out two nights in a row this weekend. Again, I was so pooped on Sunday that I fell asleep at 5 p.m. and stayed in bed until 5:45 a.m. with the exception of a short wake at midnight or so. Hyunsuk asked me the next morning if I was sick. Said she tried to wake me but had no luck. I got a kick out of the thought of Hyunsuk waking me like she does her kids in the morning before school--first Jihey, then JiMin, then MinWoo.

On Friday night, we took a breather from Bible study and went out to this Japanese restaurant, where we ate okonomiyaki and drank black raspberry wine. Eli told me her oven would be available for me to make brownies. (I'd tried to think of ways to make brownies on a stove top, but the solution escaped me.) So immediately after my Saturday class, I hopped back on the bus for some more fun in Daegu. The brownies were yummy! (So yummy that my Korean teacher ate almost the whole container I'd packed on Sunday morning. Was it the first time you made them? He asked. Said they were way better than the ones you buy at the bakeries in Korea. I wondered if he had any idea how common brownie boxes are in the states.)

Heidi is a friend from Busan who used to belong to Dongshin Church when she lived in Daegu. She comes up for visits quite frequently though, and often ends up sharing Eli's bed with me on those weekends. Heidi pushed for me to visit her, and I suggested Christmas day. She has to work (not kidding) but will finish by 5 or so and wants me to make the effort. Hooray for Christmas day plans! Looks like I might not be alone on Christmas after all.

After baking the brownies, we went out for a night on the town again. For the first time, Eli and Tharine introduced me to a "cocktail in a bag," which can be ordered from an outdoor stand, so that people can drink as they walk around and shop. An ethnic food restaurant called "2nd" was our second stop (no pun intended.) 2nd had a very classy, international menu with an artsy atmosphere. A small pool and fountain in the center of the restaurant was decorated with a staggered display of wine bottles and flowers. The Korean style tables (low to the ground) with small, comfy booths were sectioned off by hanging beads all around the restaurant. When I walked to the bathroom, I felt like an invader of privacy as I fought the temptation to look through the beads at couples and friends enjoying themselves. Dimmed lighting made everyone look beautiful. I doubted other people in the room appreciated their company as much as I appreciated mine. The fruit and cheese sampler with sangria was delicious but the girl talk really hit the spot! It'd been a while since I'd spoken so openly about body image and boys with good friends.

We went to another place after that...then another, but by the next, I was done... My need-for-sleep instinct won out over the social instinct. When I got into a cab and saw that it was 4:20 a.m., I realized that the hundreds of people still out dancing and drinking were the crazy ones.

It wasn't until my Korean teacher Sam said something about how exhausted I looked that I realized I was tired. I trudged through the lesson happily anyway and made my way to church on time. By the grace of God, Ken's sermon about Matthew 6, the "Don't Worry" passage, didn't miss my interest, though my eyes drooped at several points throughout. It helped me to realize how illogical worrying is--how worrying discounts God's faithfulness. However, I wasn't enthralled enough to stick around for small groups. I made a bee-line for the door and didn't stop buzzing until I reached my bed. Zzzzzzz.

On my mind: Education

Monday was pretty upbeat for me this week. I wouldn't go so far to say I was excited about going back to work. But I wasn't dreading it either. My heart was light and chipper.

A few months ago, I substituted taught for Ms. Yoon--one class, one student. No biggy. But she thought the deed was worthy of a box full of muffins, which she presented to me the following week. I substituted for Patrick when he got the swine flu, and he brought me cookies. (I think food is a popular way of showing appreciation in Korea. My boss said once in a meeting that he encouraged the moms to bring food by when they wanted to say thanks.) Having witnessed the cultural rule, I knew it was my turn to offer my gratitude through baked goods. After perusing several overpriced items at a local bakery, I decided to purchase rice cakes at an outdoor stand instead--that way I wouldn't be tempted to sample the gift. (Not a fan.) The stationary store nearby sells cards for about 50 cents, so I also bought a card to go along with each plate of rice cakes. I even wrote a short note to Mrs. Joe in Korean.

Feeling refreshed from my time off, I decided to try some new things this week. I persuaded myself toward a new attitude about teaching. I'm still an amateur teacher, thus still a work in progress. Be open to suggestion and new ideas! I thought.

In a class with two young active boys, I found a way to incorporated more exercise into learning. We were reviewing the short "i" sound. Usually, we point to pictures with in the book, identify the objects, spell them, and circle the objects with the short i sound. After each row, I had the boys stand up and do jumping jacks as they chanted, "Ih! Ih! Ih-ih-ih!" I don't know if they memorized the short i, but it certainly channeled their energy.

My other experiment failed miserably. I read something online about teaching ESL to 3-5 year olds. Ms. Shelley Ann Vernon suggested singing songs as a way to make learning entertaining for preschool children. Others gave me similar advice, so I thought I'd give it a shot. A silly video on YouTube would assist me in teaching "Head and shoulders, knees and toes" to little Sung-Ah. Little Sung-Ah liked the video, but she wasn't at all interested in learning the song. Not even in the least bit.

Ms. Vernon also said to change the activity every 5-10 minutes as their attention span is short. So we tried alphabet bingo, which worked for about 10 minutes, then reading a book, which worked for about two. Then she just pouted and spoke in Korean as if I could understand her. Tried tickling and candy but to no avail. Eventually, she just sat on my lap, and we watched Sesame Street ABC songs. I felt guilty about not being able to teach her anything.

Part of the issue is she doesn't respond to my authority like she does to her mom, Mrs. Yoon or Mrs. Joe. Last week, She grabbed a toy flashlight from her bag and played with it and wouldn't let me take it from her. I feel stupid tugging something away from a 3-year-old. I feel stupid struggling with a 3-year-old. Do I enforce my authority even through whining and tears like I might with a child twice or three times her age? Also, I think she gets genuinely frustrated when I can't understand her and so must ignore what she's saying.

Sometimes I want to say, "Look, I'm neither trained nor able to teach English to a 3-year-old. Find someone else." Yet other times, I see it as a challenge, another age group that I must learn to teach. I don't want to give up. I want to work at it until I find a solution, but I can't think of anything! I figured out the seven-year-old class. I'm learning how to amuse the adolescent girls. I've started to conquer the little unruly boys. Now this!

On top of my toddler concerns, we've had several students drop this week for various reasons. Several of the reasons were out of our hands, but one of them had to do with not enough vocabulary review. I know I could be doing more to hammer in vocabulary. It worries me, but Justin seems rather confident that they'll come back after they shop around. (Note to self: Do not try to be a business owner. You couldn't handle the ups and downs.) Korean parents are really involved in their children's education, which is great, to a point. Korean parents are the clientele of an English academy.

I remember praising Chris teacher for his outlook when he trained me my first week. Thirty minutes of work then 10-15 minutes of play time. It made sense to me, but when students begin to expect play time and demand play time, then I started to doubt his philosophy. Maybe I just don't get as much done in 30 minutes as he does. He is way more experienced. The default mode of a classroom should be learning, I think. The learning curve for me as a teacher is still way steep.

These days I've started to consider my next plan of action (other than get married, of course) after I return to the states. I wonder if my own education should continue. Should I pursue an ESL degree or certification? I'm still uncertain. If I did, I think I would put an age restriction on my employment possibilities.

The stationary store has some Christmas cards with funny cartoon Santas and reindeer on display. The pictures and broken English gave me a good laugh! For the last 15 years of my life, Christmas card displays meant I was approaching a significant 2-4 week break from the hustle and bustle of life. For the last four years, that meant going home to my family. I looked forward to stepping in the front door to the smell of a cinnamon, pine tree, or other Yankee candle scent, eating licorice from a glass jar on the counter, and commenting on the Christmas tree ornaments (if they were up yet.)

Guess how many days I get off this year? One. Christmas day. Korean kids get a few weeks off of school, but they spend their break time going to hogwans to study. It's too early to complain as I'm fresh off a week-long break, and my work weeks haven't been anything like the sort of schedule I managed during college. However, I'm really going to miss being home for the holidays.

Apparently, Obama wants to adopt a Korean-style of education in the U.S. There could definitely be advantages to longer school hours, but I can't support that much studying on holiday break. No way! Hopefully, that's not what Barack has in mind.

Christmas in Korea

Butterflies flew in and out of my stomach last Friday morning from the time I woke up until the time I shut my eyes. My reservations at a backpacker guesthouse "dormitory room" in Seoul ended up looking far more rundown than the online photos indicated. I arrived hours before to check it out and nearly cried when I opened the door to a room the size of a large closet with ever-so-firm and squeaky bunk beds. (The bunks were part of the plan, but the room's minimal conditions were not.) With only a lick of confidence in my ability to navigate around Seoul, I felt sore out of luck and racked my brain for how I might prepare Nick for a junky sleeping arrangement after a 24-hour international flight. Thankfully, I met with Ju for dinner, and her presence has a calming effect for me. Nick's flight landed on time, but he was in no mood for anything but a good night's sleep, so I decided that a change of arrangements was in order. We moved from the crappy dorm room ($18 per person) to the Biwon Motel ($100 per night.)

The new room included a double bed and a twin bed, a television, a clean bathroom with plenty of amenities, a computer with internet access, and a mini fridge with...check this out, Americans, free water bottles and juice cans. The beds and walls were painted a chocolate brown theme, and the light fixtures had several brightness intervals. Our room key enabled all the electronics through a slot on the wall near the entryway. The Biwon Motel was probably a four-star upgrade. I learned that sometimes it's worth it to pay extra money for the comfort of someone you love, especially if it prevents conflict during vacation time.

A few days into the trip, Nick suggested that we consider the week our Christmas present to each other. He said we should decide collectively to not make money a big issue but to enjoy our time as a holiday offering in place of international mailing fees later on. Admittedly, we knew it would be the most expensive Christmas ever, but the outlook certainly helped us not get bent out of shape about cab fare or other travel expenses. It seemed like a reasonable idea to me. (As it is, I think we did OK.)

On Saturday morning, I made a trip to a nearby convenience store for a familiar cereal, milk, and fruit, determined to make amends for my poor planning the night before. We relaxed in the motel until afternoon, watching bits of movies on the English channel and getting ready at our leisure. I enjoyed hearing Nick's commentary about Korean commercials. So delightful to share the same air again. When we were finally ready, we headed to Myeong-Dong--a large shopping and entertainment area in Seoul. We squeezed through spaces between kiosks and Asian crowds, sampling street food items. I took pleasure in watching Nick react to it all for the first time. At 5 o'clock, we went to Nanta, which in my opinion, is a must-see item for anyone within a 100 mile radius of a show. The five performers, whose talents range from drumming to stunting to comedy, played a restaurant crew preparing for a wedding feast. They threw plates to choreography and chopped lettuce to intricate rhythms and made me laugh so hard my cheeks throbbed.

One of the performers even pulled Nick on stage to play the groom and taste-test the wedding soup. They dressed him in traditional garb and de-hatted him with a slapstick flare at the end of the segment.

After the show, I was surprised to hear someone call my name from down the aisle. How many people did I know in Seoul, South Korea? It was Diana's sister, Wendy and her husband, Joel. What a coincidence! The four of us went out for Korean barbecue. They told us about the lantern festival along Cheonggyecheon stream, so we ended the evening by viewing colorfully-lit shapes like this one.

Monday was one of the most fun, romantic days in my recent memory. Seoul is fun, but Daegu is much less crowded and perhaps more relaxing. Having no where to be, we did just exactly what we wanted all day. Slept in again. Went to a PC bong for the first time, so Nick could check his mail. Ate some mondoo (dumplings) on the way to the city. Though we planned to see a movie, the theater offered only 2012 and The Time Travelers' Wife. Nick watched the latter on the plane, and neither of us were too interested in 2012. Instead, we walked around the city again to see what we might find.

A middle-aged Korean man beckoned our attention with a smile and an inviting gesture from inside a narrow shop. The man seemed very confident that we wouldn't regret taking a ride on his 3-D virtual reality contraption. Again, having no where to be and no reason to object, we decided to give it a whirl and selected "Snow Coaster" from the video menu. We slipped on a pair of 3-D glasses and buckled up for "safety." I've never screamed and laughed so much in front of Nick before. It occurred to me that we've never been on a roller coaster together. Ten minutes of virtual exhilaration was a decent substitute, I think.

We rode the escalator up 12 floors of a department store, making a couple of purchases along the way. Then, we ate omurice at La Tomate--a restaurant Jihey showed me a week ago. Later, I screamed even more when we watched Cloverfield in a DVD bong. We thought we'd found a regular video rental store until we realized that they had private rooms, complete with couches and big screens for viewers to see the film on site--a perfect date spot. After the film, we headed out for a night cap at a local pub, where we made friends with two female bartenders, and I had the opportunity to practice my Korean. Nick and I love to make friends with total strangers, and I think we're pretty good at it together. The friendship resulted in two free drinks from the ladies, who I'm sure thought, "What a cute American couple!"

On Tuesday, we chilled out together, graded some papers, read together, walked around Youngnam University Campus, befriended a shaggy, unkempt dog (nicknamed "Car Wash,") ate Western food, and watched Korean Kim Yuna beat American Rachel Flatte in a figure skating championship. (I was touched by Nick's willingness to watch figure skating with me.) On Wednesday, we met my boss and his wife for lunch, and Justin offered to get Nick a job in Korea. (He politely showed interest and raved about his current job.) In the afternoon, Nick came to my classes, and my adolescent girls were as giddy as ever. He met my host family that evening, and perhaps by divine inspiration, Nick taught Minwoo how to turn his hips when swinging a baseball.

On Thursday, we headed back to Seoul. Originally, I planned to work Thursday as well and take an early train on Friday morning to Incheon, but logistically, that would have never worked. Instead, we stayed in an excellent guesthouse with equal-if-not-surpassing accommodations as Biwon but half the price, and it was within a five minute drive of the airport. Korean Air check-in was busy, so we barely made it through in time anyway. I said goodbye again, tearing up but feeling somehow numb inside.

Not as difficult as our last goodbye. Maybe because there's much less uncertainty. I have four months more, but this time, I'm not an amateur alien to Korea. I don't despise the differences anymore, but I accept them as a reality. (I even found myself over-serving Nick this week--peeling and slicing all his fruit for him in perfect Korean hospitality.) I can speak some Korean now. I know how to get around Daegu, and after this week, I even feel pretty good about getting around Seoul. I don't fear loneliness anymore, but I'm certain of it. However, God has been faithful to me. He has many people in this place who are watching out for me. I didn't eat any turkey on November 26th this year, but I said a prayer and had a lot of thanks to give.

Countdown

Nick's arrival on Friday night has colored my outlook for the past week with pleasant shades. I can't wait to see him and be with him again. I also think I'm due for a break! I started counting at twelve days to go, and I've been counting ever since.

• Being in the mood for romance, I found myself thinking more about the wedding than I have in a long time, surfing through theknot.com and browsing bridesmaids dresses and flowers. We've been trying to find a good first dance song, though there are probably other wedding decisions which are more pertinent.
• I skimmed my "Lonely Planet: Korea" guide for things to do in Seoul and made a short list in my little pink notebook. A couple weeks ago, I reserved tickets for us to see Nanta--a famous Korean comedy/percussion show. I called Ju to find out how much time she would have to be our tour guide.
• An innkeeper in Jilyang shut the small, sliding door in my face today after I tried to ask for a reservation for Nick, using my Korean-English dictionary. Feeling offended, I went to the motel across the street to try again at Hwang Jae Jang Motel. It was about 5 bucks more than the first place but a lot less sketchy in appearance. A nice gray-haired man took me immediately to look at the room, which included a bed, bathroom and good-sized TV. As it turned out, he didn't take reservations either, but I'm more inclined to give him my business based on his courtesy.
• I asked my friends at Dongshin to pray for Nick's stomach. I really hope the Korean food doesn't make him sick. In the meantime, I've been making mental notes of western things we can eat. There are a few pretty good places to get spaghetti in Hayang. There's a KFC in Kyungsan.
• "Just one more Tuesday," I told myself on the way to work today. I was mean to the kids today. By that I mean I didn't hesitate to yell and finally stuck to my guns about not always playing games in class. It was tough, but I felt so much better about five or ten minutes of hangman when I knew they had focused for 45.
• One of my students whined when I told her I would be gone on Friday, and they would probably have Justin teacher instead. She said Justin teacher is scary. Haha! At first, I liked the idea of being missed. But then I realized that I could use a little fear factor.
• Minwoo asked me to play UNO with him and his friend last night. Again, he wanted to enforce a flicking punishment for the loser. I lost...twice. (I covered my forehead with a blanket to absorb the sting.) Then I actually suggested that the lose run outside barefoot, feeling confident that I wouldn't lose again, but I did. And the cold stone pathway in front of the church hurt my feet. I don't know how my response time got so slow. I must be distracted by a certain someone coming to visit soon.
• I had a dream last night that I chipped one of my front teeth really badly, and my first thought was, "O no! Nick is coming to visit on Friday, and I can't hide this from him!" Nick said he learned somewhere that a chipped or broken tooth in a dream means concern about relationships. So weird. It's also pretty weird not seeing my fiance for 3 months!

I promise to take plenty of pictures of our adventures together and share them here on my blog.

11/11 is for Pepero Day

About a month ago, my bakery friend JiHee explained to me the ins and outs of Korean holidays as she pointed to dates on a small flip-calendar She told me about their variation of Valentine's Day, during which girls buy gifts for their love interests. She told me about White Day in March, when the guys then return the love tokens to the girls. Then later that month, Koreans celebrate Black Day to recognize all of the angry people who didn't receive gifts on either day. The wallflowers eat jajangmyeon--a Chinese noodle dish with a black-colored sauce--to ease the pain of their lonely hearts. It's a good thing the bakery was vacant because I laughed pretty loudly at this one.

Koreans like to have something to celebrate every month, she said, flipping through the summer months, through independence day in August and Chusok in October. She put her finger on the eleventh of November and told me to guess the meaning of the date. She waited with expectant eyes, clearly energized by our conversation, but I gave her a blank stare.

"I don't know," I said. She held up two pointer fingers side-by-side to give me an obvious clue, but I had nothing.

"It's Pepero Day!" she exclaimed. I offered her no reaction.

"What's pepero?" I wanted to know. She seemed floored that I didn't know about pepero.

Well, pepero is like a long, skinny bread-like cracker, dipped in chocolate. It's a little bit like those chocolate-covered pretzel sticks sold during Christmas, but the cracker isn't salty.

There's generic pepero that's sold in small red boxes. The green boxes have pepero with almond pieces. There's "real" pepero that is sold at the bakery or in the baked goods section of a grocery store. Nude pepero, yes, nude, is cracker on the outside and chocolate on the inside. The markets create full center displays from their pepero stock on pepero day and the eve prior. Then on November 11th, customers buy pepero for their significant other, friends, kids, parents, teachers, and even their students. The holiday is a bit commercial, obviously. Here's a picture of my pepero stash from the day:

Anyway, it's a bit rare for me to blog two days in a row, but I had a pretty good Pepero Day. I met Jihey in downtown Daegu before work. Tomorrow is the Korean SAT, so school dismissed early, and Jihey promised to assist me with a much-needed haircut. We met at the train station and went out for lunch at a place that was clearly the high school student hangout. (Nearly every person in the room was dressed in uniform!)

We went to a snazzy-looking hair shop, and I got a really great hair cut for only 8 bucks! I was pretty nervous about it because Aunt Cathy told me about someone she knew who had a haircut nightmare in South Korea, but I was very impressed with this one. The stylist cut it dry, as opposed to washing it like in the states, but she styled it really nice afterward. Didn't even feel the need to go home and restyle it to my liking!

After the haircut, we went to Madeline Cafe on Jihey's recommendation, where you can get a free piece of cake with the purchase of a coffee drink. Well, that free piece of cake evidently also includes an array of other pastries, none of which I could put down after the omelet rice and chicken cutlet we ate for lunch, and the free slice of cappuccino cake. Jihey finished it off, though! Where does she put it? I'd like to know.

More than anything, the outing was another great chance to chat. She asked me about holidays in the states, and I was surprised to realize how silly I felt describing our customs for St. Patrick's Day.

Conversations and Korean Christianity

My relationship with my host family has improved considerably. Perhaps, in part, due to the space created through many consecutive days of "self-serving" lunch when Hyunsuk was busy visiting an ill church member or when she had another meeting to attend. Perhaps because we've fallen into routine.

Recently, I had two really great conversations with Jihey and Jimin.

Jihey and I sat after dinner on Sunday night, chatting about all sorts of things. Jihey finally questioned me about Nick...three months is a long time for a teenage girl to hold back such questions. I showed her my Korean book, and we talked about the differences in grammar and syntax. We talked about movies we wanted to see. We considered her career possibility as a counselor.

My conversation with Jimin rose out of my desire to read the box of tea packets I bought at the market. I needed a translator, and she happened to be enjoying a bowl of Ramyon (Ramen noodles) at the table. Somehow we got to talking about her dreams--to go to the United States and to sing. Both dreams surprised me, though all the time she spends on the Internet listening to music should have indicated.

Then she said something that really caught me off guard. She said, "Sometimes I don't like that my family is Christian." The comment gave me almost immediate understanding. Almost deja vous. I remembered how I felt at 13 among my peers.

She proceeded to explain how her parents don't like her to listen to any non-Christian music. And actually, they don't even approve of contemporary Christian music, but listen and worship only through old hymns. Singing rooms, which are quite the popular entertainment in Korea, are forbidden from her. When I asked her if she really believed that God opposed singing rooms, she said that yes, she thought He did. Or so she'd been told for years. I tried to recollect the goofy fun I had in a singing room in Seoul and imagine what could be so God-forsaken about it.

She confided in me with some things she has kept from her parents. I counseled her to know what the Bible says and doesn't say, yet to honor her parents, especially while she was living with them. I hope I said the right thing.

It seemed as though my months of awkwardness in their apartment made sense all of the sudden. I don't know why it's taken three months for me to have a relationship with these girls. JiMin said she wanted to talk to me every day, but she was shy about her English. I hope we can have a better relationship moving forward.

I had a pretty rough day today. Kids, particularly young boys, couldn't seem to stay in their seats. Many of them yelled responses to my questions, reaching an unacceptable decibel with their voices. One little boy cheated during a memory game, peeking at cards during someone else's turn. Another boy played with his cell phone, laid his head on his desk, and refused to exert any effort to actually answer the questions, but instead blurted out "C! A! B! D!"--one right after another until I nodded in approval at the right answer.

I cried at work today. Don't worry. I'm a frequent crier. I've never liked that part of my personality because it often freaks people out. Many people cry only when something very serious has happened. Someone has died. Or they break up with someone they love. But I cry out of stress.

Mrs. Joe thought it would be nice to order fried chicken and beer for me after work to soften the edge of my rough day. Her suggestion of the beer took me by surprise because I knew that Mrs. Joe was a Korean and a Christian, and actually, the last person I would expect to suggest alcohol as escapism. But it was delicious! And the company was great, too. Mrs. Joe, Agnes, and even one of the Korean moms joined me for some chicken and beer. The mom brought some wine to share with me.

She assured me that even moms have to yell at little boys, and frequently. Agnes taught me the phrase "Get out!" in Korean. She said they take advantage of me because I'm pretty, smiley, short, and overall non-threatening in appearance. Agnes says I need to practice my mean face, even in front of a mirror if necessary. She's right. I don't even know what my mean face looks like. I can't even imagine it.

Mrs. Joe said she used to cry a lot before she met Jesus. Agnes said she read once that crying is a gift from God because afterward, He raises our life back up again. I don't know if that's biblical or not, but I do know that the poet of Psalm 104 praises God for creating wine that gladdens the hearts of men. And Proverbs 31 says a king should refrain from drinking, but "give beer to those who are perishing, wine to those who are in anguish, let them forget their poverty and remember their misery no more."

Agnes offered me the remaining wine and beer for me to take home, but I told her I didn't think the minister would like it. I'd had enough anyway.

Workout variety and bubble wrap

When I told Moxanim and Hyunsuk that I wanted to work out two months ago, they explained to me an array of options, which included everything from mountain climbing to feigning residence in a nearby apartment complex to purchasing a membership at the fitness center across the street from the church. Moxanim and Hyunsuk are money-savers, so they sought out a cheaper option and found one a couple miles away from the church.

It was a sort of medical clinic with exercise facilities on the second floor that are free and open to the public. The room had a few treadmills and bikes and several weight machines. Not fancy but nice. I was the only person under 30 that I ever saw there. Then again, some days I was the only person there. I counted the 15 or 20 minute walk as part of my workout for the first few weeks, then started riding Minwoo's bike. I met a few nice, older women who thought I was pretty and wanted to practice their English with me over a cup of coffee after my workout. Then they started commenting about my acne occasionally, and I tried to not let it bother me.

Recently, I noticed my interest in exercise starting to wane. If I woke up to late, then I would skip it. The gears on Minwoo's bike got screwy and made my ride less than comfortable. My workouts got shorter, and I started to hope the women at the desk wouldn't notice me on the way out. In short, a change of routine was in order.

So I joined the hip, convenient health club across the street from where I live. To be honest, I churned over the decision quite a bit. Felt a little guilty about spending $100 for three months of various workouts. Still, there were many reasons to join. It's an investment in my health, I told myself. Now my commute takes less than a minute. So I can do other things with my morning than just workout and shower! There are aerobics, pilates and yoga classes I can attend and many weight machines I've never seen before. They even have a jinjabong, a sauna, to relax in at the end. The health center hours are from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m., so I can adjust my workout time to my liking. Many people of all ages workout at this health club.

Yesterday, I ran for 30 minutes and then relaxed in the jinjibong. Today, I went to a yoga class to ease my tired muscles. The flexibility of some of these women amazes me. Their attire amused me, too--short shorts, tights, leg warmers and tennis shoes are a popular trend--so unlike anything I would saw at the WRC in Cedar Falls, Iowa.

Speaking of Iowa, I received another package from my mom on Tuesday with winter clothes. Yay! She also packed two 4-by-6 framed engagement photos of Nick and I, new reading material, old mail and a sack full of yummies. Highlights: Cracked pepper and olive oil Triscuits and cinnamon Teddy Grahams. And surrounding all of these objects was the charming cushion of bubble wrap, which is no small matter.

Bubble wrap is wonderful for all people, young and old, Korean or American. I once caught Mrs. Joe enjoying herself with bubble wrap a few months ago. There's something delightful about popping those little air pockets. Jimin came home pretty upset or moody a couple of nights ago and snapped at her mom in Korean. I didn't understand the matter, but I had a hunch bubble wrap might brighten her mood a bit. She said she liked bubble wrap, so I left some on the kitchen table as she prepared a snack for herself. A few minutes later, I heard her popping away from my room.

Tonight, I gave the remaining bubble wrap as a prize in my last class. The students twisted and poked at the plastic for the last few minutes of class, and I guarantee they went home happier for it! Bubble wrap is "Bokbokee" in Korean. Ye Chan said the name comes from the sound, which Koreans interpreted as "bok! bok!"

Another simple pleasure I've used in class is noodle dictation. I got the idea from ESL cafe online. It's so much more fun to spell English words and sentences with noodles than with pencil lead.

Happy Halloween weekend

What a weekend! We took the students trick or treating during class on Friday, which was both fun and frustrating. (I think feeling responsible for high-energy children in public stresses me out.) In the spirit of Halloween, I wore the Minnie mouse ears Mrs. Joe ordered for me and put a dot of mascara on my nose to add to the mouse look. The kids liked it!

On Friday night, Eli, Tharene and Elise threw a Halloween party at their apartment in Daegu. They covered the walls with black garbage sacks and cotton webs. They lined tea lights along the walls and put dry ice in the mystery-shot punch bowl. I was impressed with the decorations and relieved that no plastic, electronic ghoul was arranged to jump out at me in dark corners. The mood was eery yet too familiar to really scare anyone.

I never really liked Halloween, but I had a blast! It was fun to see everyone dressed up! My favorite disguise was a hospital gown and a plastic pig nose--"the swine flu." Eli was a very non-spooky mummy. Tharene was a spider. Others were pirates or animals. One friend just wore a sign that said, "When Obama goes, so do the clothes." Not sure what kind of a costume that is, but it made us chuckle anyway. I ended up dressing in a Korean hanbok that I borrowed from another teacher. (I have to admit that I felt a little silly dressed as a Korean in front of actual Koreans.)

So we talked about Halloween at our hogwans, drank the mysterious maroon potion and partied until 4 a.m., when most of us decided it was time to hit the Halloween hay. I woke up when light shone in Eli's bedroom and guiltily left the sleepy and party-strewn house to the hostesses.

I've had mixed emotions about the Saturday class I agreed to teach for Justin. It sucks to come back to Jilyang when I might rather just spend all weekend in Daegu. On the other hand, I really enjoy the high school students. Teaching them is really not too hard. The class reminds me of English Corner, except with a bit more organized learning. No discipline issues. Yes!

I introduced UNO to several of my classes this week, including the Saturday class. Many of them have really enjoyed it and willingly stayed 10 minutes after class to finish a game. I think much of the fun of UNO is the sort of jab and revenge teeter-totter that occurs with all of the "draw two," "reverse," and "skip" cards. My high school class had just as much fun with UNO as my younger kids. A deck of UNO cards would be a great gift to give away to Korean friends I make. (Do you think you could send me some for Christmas, Mom?)

A woman I met at the health center, Mrs. Chay, invited me to her house for dinner on Saturday evening. So I rode the bus to the E-Mart in Kyungsan, where I found a pair of jeans that fit me (wow!) as I waited for her to pick me up.

It seemed pretty clear that she was using me as an opportunity for her daughter to practice her English. I didn't mind though. Eun Young was pretty cute. She practiced "I am nine-years-old," and learned the word "persimmons." They expected me to eat a lot, which was also something I anticipated. After encouraging me through four pieces of fried chicken, they brought out a main entree of beef ribs as well as rice, vegetables, kimchi, wine, and fruit for dessert. Whew! They sent me home with a bag of fresh persimmons in honor of the English lesson. Mr. Chay requested a monthly dinner appointment on the car ride home. I gave him a "maybe" answer, wanting to keep my options open, but promised to come again.

On Sunday, I went to my Korean lesson and church. Then Su Jung, her brother and I went to Hayang for spaghetti and Baskin Robbins for dinner. Yum! It seems my happy days always include good food and good company.

Mrs. Joe

Mrs. Joe is the manager of the hogwan I work for in Jilyang. She was the "secretary" in my previous posts because, from my perception, she performs the duties of a secretary. She handles the paperwork, cleans the work area, and watches kids when they misbehave. If I need copies made at the last minute, then I point to the pages and say the word for copy in Korean, and Mrs. Joe, who doesn't speak much English, will make copies for me while I entertain the class.

Mrs. Joe isn't the secretary though, she's the manager. She fits the bill on my pay day, and her position includes decision-making powers. Last week, we took the students outside for the second half of the class to the traditional Korean market because Mrs. Joe thought it would be a good promotion for the hogwan. Other parents would see the kids speaking with me in English and be impressed enough to give the English Clinic a ring. Mom and Pop would be willing to pay 120,000 won for two lessons per week or maybe even 250,000 for four times per week if they witnessed other children speaking in English to a native speaker. (Justin told me the rates yesterday at our meeting.) We also discussed the market day at the meeting, which for me, was more stressful than helpful. Truth be told, it was the day before I decided to start "fighting" for happiness. Though I gave my honest opinion, Mrs. Joe thought we should try the market again and circled the second Tuesday in November, designating the day. Neither Justin, Agnes, nor Patrick, who agreed with me about the outcome, uttered a protest. So I had to agree.

"She saw some positive factors," said Justin. "So she wants to do it again."

The Wednesday after market day, Mrs. Joe came in to my classroom with a short math problem written on her notebook. She showed me how her age minus my age makes a fairly large number. Therefore, I'm a baby to her. At the time, I thought she was sending me some kind of message, like I needed to respect her more or something, but Patrick said age is just really important in Korea. In fact, technically, I should use formal language with him even, though he is only one year older than me.

I thought about what she said for a while. Puzzled. Then I went in, and apologized, in my broken Korean, for being sad on market day. I told her that from now on I would be, "Fighting!" She pointed to my engagement ring, and said something in Korean, I think about me missing my fiance. Then she gave me a hug, and I teared up pretty bad. It felt good to be hugged.

So with Halloween quickly approaching, Mrs. Joe thought it would be a good idea to celebrate. I agreed.

Mrs. Joe wanted to know if she should make a lot of food. I told her, through Justin's translation, that candy or something small would be fine and that I had a plan.

Mrs. Joe printed off information in Korean about trick-or-treating in the United States. I printed off masks from KizClub.com for students to cut out and decorate.

Mrs. Joe bought a couple bags of candy and put them the kitchen. I bought a dozen glazed Dunkin Donuts and orange string to hang them from the ceiling.

Mrs. Joe ordered costumes online, including a Mickey Mouse hat and a scream mask, for Patrick and I to wear on Friday. I snatched a bunch of toilet paper for a mummify-your-classmate game.

I found Michael Jackson's thriller and Monster Mash on Youtube and played them in the background today during my first set of halloween parties. Mrs. Joe served as the judge for the mummy game and took some nice pictures.

After my last class, Mrs. Joe had another good idea. She suggested we call the parents for tomorrow night's classes and see if they would be willing to have us come trick-or-treat at their houses. I told her, through translation again, that students who saw what I was doing with the other classes would be disappointed to not play the donut game. (I told the kids, "Don't worry. Tomorrow, we will have your Halloween day.") Truthfully, I was upset because I knew her plans would trump mine. Why did she always want me to go along with her new idea at the last minute?

When I went home for dinner and thought about it, my reasons became more and more silly in my mind. Students won't complain about going trick-or-treating, even if they had to give up a donut game. If anything, I'm just disappointed that I won't be able to watch students fish after a swinging treat with their mouth tomorrow.

I should trust her and respect her opinion more readily. Not only is she my manager, but she is a "harmoni" in Korea. A grandma. A respected old woman. She has a lot more life experience than an amateur teacher like me. Besides, she really cares about me. Patrick told me so. Evidentally, she worries about my appetite, my boredom, my loneliness and my skin problems.

Here is one of my classes playing the donut game. I'm glad to have played it once. (Forgive me. I'm not much of a videographer, especially when I start laughing.) Go, KaJin, go!

Fighting!

"Fighting!" is an exclamation that Koreans use when they feel a surge a perseverance in the midst of trial. If a Korean says "fighting!" it means they promise to continue enduring to success. They pronounce each syllable with strength and bring their hands into a fist in front of their face as they say it. "Figh-ting!" I first heard "fighting!" when I was watching a Korean drama. Han Ji Eun says it to Young Jae to encourage him to work toward a peaceable marriage while they were together. Then my friend, GiHee, a college student who I met at a bakery in Jilyang, said "Fighting!" to indicate how hard she would work at her English, so that we could be good friends. (It's pretty difficult to make friends with students in Korea. They're always studying.)

So after a few days of loneliness, followed by a rough Tuesday, I decided to adopt the phrase and start "fighting!" for happiness. I started working out again on Wednesday, and on Thursday, I went to Kyungsan in the morning, mostly as an effort to be out and about. I needed to spend less time just waiting and planning for work. I went to a coffee shop called Seven Monkeys (just the name of it seemed joyful,) where I ordered an iced honey latte (delicious) and studied my Korean. Then, I browsed the shops and bought myself a pair of Pooh socks and a matching sweatshirt and pant set. (I'd started to waking up to chilly legs in the morning.) As I sat at the bus stop, waiting for my ride home, I wondered what about the simple trip made me feel so good. What was it about my little outing that made me feel so refreshed?

I've had a pretty good run since then. On Friday, our school secretary told me that one of the mothers called to send me her thanks after her daughter, JiSoo, received a favorable grade on her midterm test. Actually, JiSoo is the same girl I wrote about months ago when I was first starting to teach. The student with which I had my first small success.

Patrick, the other teacher at my school, gave me a ride all the way out to my Bible study that night. He told me about his experience dating a Canadian and showed me his "gloomy music" category on his CD player. It was so nice to have some company and to arrive at Eli's apartment before 11:00 p.m. Instead of Bible study, we just talked about Korean nuances, first period stories and relationships until 3 a.m., which was more than OK for me since I was craving girl-hang-out time anyway.

On Saturday night, I went out to eat with Justin and Jean and watched the movie, Leon, with JiHey, that was of a significantly more sophisticated caliber than our last shared flick, Kangaroo Jack. I attended Korean class on Sunday, taught by my friend, Sam, from Dongshin Church. (Something else to keep my mind happy and entertained in Korea.) SuJung and I finally met to study Mark again, and I was able to explain how Jesus makes God not like Santa Claus.

Then tonight, I broke out the UNO cards for Moxanim, MinWoo and MinWoo's friend, who always practices his hellos and nice-to-meet-you's with me. They loved the game. After a couple of rounds, MinWoo's friend suggested that the last person to get rid of their cards should be finger-flicked to death by all of the other players. I knew it was a bad idea, especially when Moxanim and I went head to head in the final part. MinWoo started demonstrating the painful power of his flick against his own hand after he was the first to finish. (Honestly, it sort of made me feel at home with my brothers. Haha!) Much to my relief, I was able to finish 3rd with a few reverse cards and a wild card. MinWoo planted a fairly gentle flick on Moxanim's forehead, but his friend and I didn't dare flick the minister. :)

I have to do report cards this week. Ugh! But I have a lot to look forward to as well. On Thursday, I'm going to meet with Christy in KyungSan near Seven Monkeys. Then on Friday, Eli, Elise and Tharene are having a Halloween party at their house. I'm also planning out Nick's visit next month with much anticipation. It looks like I'm less lonely now, and there is more fun to come! Fighting!

Like a child

Lately, I forget that my students are just kids. I forget the way children think or the way children act when they're having a bad day. By God's grace, certain moments remind me that the maturity level and understanding of the faces in front of me are not at the college level and usually not the high school level.

Justin asked me a few weeks ago to begin a research project for students in my reading classes. The idea made me groan because I attempted to teach a research project during English Camp and failed miserably. (Really. It was sad.) But Justin insisted it was a good idea. The Treasures (reading) classes in the Hayang hogwan were conducting research. So could we. I waited until after Chusok to even think about it. I needed to make a plan to ensure that this project would be a less of an embarrassment.

Then, one day, I typed up a sort of project syllabus, including process steps for each week and a breakdown of points. As I began teaching the brainstorming process, my enthusiasm for the project really picked up. I decided to research the real Queen Sondok as an example for them to follow.

On the way out the door today, I fetched Patrick to translate their homework assignments because I could sense their attention span for English comprehension was fading, and I had a lot to convey yet. They were supposed to obtain a project binder by Monday's class and by Wednesday's, to come with the first ten points for their research notes in addition to their regular vocabulary assignment. Patrick kindly told me that it was a lot of work on top of their regular school work. His comment seemed obvious in hindsight. What was I thinking? I'd gotten ahead of myself.

During my office hours, I surfed Dave's ESL Cafe for a new game or activity to use, and I found a great, low-maintenance game based off Wheel of Fortune. In "Dice of Fortune," the teacher must assign a meaning to each number on a dice. The web post recommended "lose a turn" for 1 and 3, $200 for 2, $400 for 4, $600 for 6 and "bankrupt" for 5. I substituted won for dollars. With thirty minutes before class, I ran home to fetch my dice for the game, and on the way, I thought of a unique twist. Candy incorporation never failed me before, so I decided I should make dum-dums worth 1,000 won and dove chocolates worth 2,000 won. (Expensive candy, commented one little girl. Haha!) Students who earned enough money could then purchase a piece of candy with their winnings when it was their turn.

All you moms out there can surely see where I went wrong in my thinking. Ignorantly, I gathered little red bingo tokens for the money and "Go Fish" cards to denote students who lost a turn, and I introduced the "fun, new game." And it was fun for the first few rounds. Students laughed, counted tokens delightedly, squealed when issued a Go Fish card, and tried to rig the dice to land on a six. But I certainly didn't have the foresight or the understanding of a child to know what would come next. I didn't think about how hurt a ten-year-old might feel to keep rolling "lose a turn" or "bankruptcy" while his/her peers gained a stash of sugary treats. One girl put her head on her desk after repeated lost turns. I felt inside the way she looked--defeated. And dumbfounded. I gave all the kids a chocolate on the way out the door. How did I not see it coming? Candy is no small matter to a child.

Perhaps the most surprising moment of my day came rather casually. As we worked on acrostic poems of ourselves, WooSup, one of my brightest students, asked randomly, "Do you like Korea, teacher?"

I started to give a half-brain answer, distracted by my busy hands, "Ummm...Yea."

"I think you don't like it here, teacher," he said. WooSup popped his head in to say "hello" one day when I was visibly worn down and emotionally distraught.

"What makes you think that?" I asked, but my question was buried by the Korean ramblings of other students in the class. I quieted in reflection.

Was he right? Of course not! But how can you explain to a twelve-year-old the breadth of emotion a foreigner can feel? How could I explain, in words he'd understand, that I don't dislike Korea?

Maybe I could tell the twelve-year-old things that I like about his country: kimchi, potbingsu, strong work ethics, energy efficiency, bathroom slippers, riding the public transportation, weekends in Daegu, etc. Have I complained too much in his presence? Failed to mention these things? Spoken too fondly of home? Or just too often of home?

I may feel misunderstood, discouraged and lonely sometimes, but not because of Korea. Lonely. Loneliness as a foreigner is more than wanting someone to hang out with. Loneliness is feeling that not a soul around can understand, or wants to understand, why you are the way you are. Even if a soul could understand my language perfectly, that soul may not want to hear what I might feel inclined to say.

Would he understand if I said it's difficult to have your whole life change in a matter of days? And then later remember that the changes are semi-permanent? Would he understand it's hard to wake up months later, not recognizing the wallpaper and wishing your mother were downstairs? I sound weak.

I think Nick said once that it must have been lonely to be Jesus. To come down to earth, to dwell among humans, to truly be an alien...from a different planet, of a different race. I think he understood us, but he knew we could not understand him.

"Hear my prayer, O Lord, listen to my cry for help; be not deaf to my weeping. For I dwell with you as an alien, a stranger, as all my fathers were." Psalm 40: 12

Easily, comfortably, I discount God's ability to understand me. Above all, He understands the frustration of being misunderstood. Communication with God is even greater than cross-cultural. God is supra-cultural. His ways are so far different from ours that no human being can understand Him.

I'm sorry I can't understand what you have to say, God, but I pray you'll help me listen to what you have to say about what it's like at home--in heaven.

Korean Drama

Every time I ride a bus I worry about how Nick, who happens to be a very careful driver, might react to the driving standards here. People pull out in front of each other often and use their brakes at the last second. Giant busses park right next to each other at bus stops, leaving little room in between. Then if passengers for the front bus don't load quickly enough, the busses in back don't hesitate to attempt a pass. It's scary to watch a bunch of giant vehicles show such fearlessness.

Sarah, a Korean-American from Dongshin church, commented on the drivers one day, but said she's come to appreciate one thing about it. In the states, risky driving results in road rage, but "Koreans are really good at letting things just roll off of their back." They don't let things upset them for too long. They just keep moving. Her comment floated around in my head for days, and I started to take notice of this phenomenon.

Despite the driving, I'm still yet to see an accident or a spurt of road rage in Korea. That is, until last weekend when I rode the bus to E-Mart to purchase some groceries. (Yay!) Western food wasn't cheap, but I didn't mind. I spent about 40 bucks on peanut butter, wheat bread, salsa, lunchmeat, spaghetti sauce and bacon, and I topped off the shopping trip with a corndog from a street vendor. Felt sorry for the man who had to share a seat with me and smell the fried deliciousness on a stick.

The bus driver pulled up to a stop that had a yellow truck parked in front of it. He opened his front door and hollered over to the man in the front seat.

Hey, you're parked in front of the bus stop, I imagined him saying. You need to move your vehicle, sir. The driver rolled down his window and yelled something back in Korean, a cigarette bobbing up and down stupidly in his mouth. The bus driver raised his voice and repeated.

Look, I need you to move your vehicle, sir. The driver's cigarette bobbed all the more rapidly. A few people behind me scoffed through their teeth.

Just let it pass, I imagined them saying under their breathe. A couple of girls got off the bus. A couple of male passengers blurted some things out in Korean. You're not supposed to park in front of the bus stop. Where do you get off?

The bus driver stomped off the bus, and for a moment, I actually thought I might see a fight between two grown men. The two quarreled for a few moments longer. Then the truck driver got out as the bus driver resumed his station. The truck driver walked to the end of the bus for a license plate number and then dialed a number on his phone as we were pulling away. The driver didn't seem phased by the incident.

I remember being surprised when I learned that Korean dramas were famous throughout Asia. Surprised because the Koreans I knew were not all that dramatic. On the contrary, they seemed level-headed, not easily hurt. They didn't complain often. On the other hand, I told Jihae that sometimes I chuckle to myself when I listen to the Kim family members talk to one another because, though I can't understand the Korean, I can distinguish a whine from a polite request and a note of surprise from a matter-of-fact statement. Jihae told me that although it might sound like a fight, I was really hearing the Daegu accent come out.

I watched some Korean dramas with English subtitles on www.mysoju.com last weekend. First, I watched Queen Sun Deok--a drama about the queen of the Silla kingdom in ancient Korea. I learned the word for "sire" in Korean, but found the plot a little bit difficult to follow and get into even with the subtitles.

Instead, I got hooked to a different program that I would be embarrassed to watch in the states. (Foreigners are often drawn to simplistic types of entertainment they can understand.) I've watched the first five episodes of "Full House," not to be confused with the American sitcom with the Olsen twins and Bob Saget.

Full House is a series about a gullible yet witty internet novelist named Han Ji-Eun, who is conned into taking an "all-expenses-paid-for" vacation to Shanghai by her own best friends. When she lands with no money and no hotel reservation, she must use an equally clever lie to borrow money from Lee Young Jae, a popular Korean actor in character, and the Korean superstar "Rain" in real life, to pay for her hotel and fly back to Korea. She discovers that her bank account is empty and the house she inherited from her deceased parents has been sold to none other than YoungJae himself. Without parents or real friends, Ji-Eun has no place to go, so YoungJae grudgingly takes her in as a house maid. Meanwhile, he is having some relationship and publicity issues of his own. The two strike a deal. A marriage contract. YoungJae hopes to get rid of all the relationship scandals for a while, and so he promises to give Ji-Eun the house when they divorce after six months.

Many of the cultural norms are shown in a humorous light. At one point, Ji-Eun runs into issues with her new grandmother-in-law, who disapproves of her education status, her good looks and most of all, the death of her parents. When the couple fails to inform her of their well-being during the first few weeks of marriage, Grandmother tells Ji-Eun that naturally the best solution is for them to move back in with the family.

Ji-Eun's mannerisms comedically demonstrate the formalities of Korean culture. While YoungJae ushers her around through the mini-dramas of his life, Ji-Eun forces a bright smile, small bow, and an "Annyeong Haseyo" for each new, albeit awkward meeting.

Here is a clip from the 3rd episode: Ji-Eun meets YoungJae's family for the first time.

It seems that the blogging skills I've developed might be put to some use! Andy needs someone to update the Dongshin Church English Service web page. He wants me to start with just posting announcements, but eventually, he'd like me to post my insights from Sunday's sermons. I'm looking forward to using this new hobby to serve my church.