Alice In Wonderland Day

One day, I walked into my office and it was decorated like this:

and I was told I must leave my office. It was used for a photo session with the kids. I have no idea what this was about, my only clue is that the front office had a sign that said (phonetically) in Korean: Alice in Wonderland Day!

1 Year Story

On Saturday Amir and I went to a one-year-old's birthday party. In the States, this would mean cake at the baby's house and a few pictures taken by Grandma. In Korea, it's an Event.

The party was held on the top floor of a department store that rents out for events. The decor included marble, chandeliers, and gold wallpaper. Because babies love glamour! Amir and I stumbled towards various attendants until someone led us to the correct room and slapped a numbered sticker on our hand.

The one-year-old birthday party was a lot like the Korean wedding we went to in that there was a massive buffet. Unfortunately we already gorged ourselves on homemade falafel that day, but I managed to eat some fresh fruit. After gnoshing for a while, it was time for the slide show! There was a professional emcee narrating the events of Da Eun's life. She was so cute!

Then the baby came out in a tiny white wedding dress with her mom and dad. She had to choose from a box of items, each one representing a future path. There was a gavel for justice, a pencil for scholarship, a wallet for money...anyway, she chose the microphone, which means she will have talent! Yay! Then her parents walked her around the room, mic in hand.

Then the emcee started calling out numbers from the stickers we had on our hands. The people with the special numbers got a present! Amir didn't have a winning number, but they gave him a baby spoon and fork set because he's a foreigner.

We were pretty happy with that!

The whole thing lasted about an hour and a half, roughly the same as a Korean wedding. Also probably the longest amount of time Da Eun could go without crying, since she's a baby and everything.

Directions to the Big Alpha in Namdaemun Market

I recently searched very hard to find magnetic tape which I could attach to the back of my teaching materials in order to stick them to the whiteboard. After I finally found some at Office Max and brought it to school, I realized our whiteboards aren't magnetic. I didn't even know such a thing existed.

Anyway,I realized I had to buy my own magnetic whiteboard, and since my local 4-story daiso didn't carry them I was forced to journey to the alpha in namdaemun.

I googled "directions to Alpha namdaemun" and the first set of directions were from the local stitch n' bitch. Second result was a reference to the directions from the first site. Third result was a mormon blogger who explained that those directions are totally useless. The fourth result was Fat Girl in Seoul, who gave pretty good directions but counted the streets in a kind of bizarre way. So here's my take on how to get there:

Go out exit 5 of Hoehyeon station and go basically straight, the street will angle slightly right and you just follow that angle. It will be pretty obvious you are in the market, because there will be lots of decorations overhanging the street and no cars, plus tons of street food. Walk past 5 alleys/streets on your lefthand side. (I'm counting anything you could walk down as an alley). The sixth turn on your left will be the correct street. You will see this on your left:

And this on your right:

Walk down this street, and you will see a huge yellow sign on your right. That's the alpha!

Open until 8:00 every day except Sunday!

The selection is pretty good, but the focus is definitely on office supplies and not on children's toys or stationary. Also, there weren't earring backs, which I was really disappointed about.

Anyway, there is apparently no such thing as a small magnet board, but there is an option to buy a giant black magnet (90 cm by 60 cm) and foam board, and then glue the two together! So yeah, I made my own magnet board. Pretty, pretty crafty!

Faces of Insadong

I live right by Insadong, the traditional center of Seoul. It's really popular with old people and tourists. Protestors and performers love to set up on the main street and raise a ruckus.

There was a group of actors representing each country. This guy is the USA! Yep, that looks about right.

The elderly assert their right to wear Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles-style bandanas on their heads.

Yesterday, there was a really intense protest with about a hundred handicapped people all together, and maybe two policemen for every protester. I'm not sure what it was about, although with my knowledge of Korean I ruled out colors, numbers, directions and ordering food. Anyway, there was a lot of yelling, and then a mentally disabled woman started trying to push herself out of her wheelchair and the police were holding her down, which really made everyone upset. I felt like the police weren't doing anything wrong, but just seeing all of the police with their shields and nightsticks controlling a group of disabled people didn't look good. I pushed my way in with the journalists and got some pictures.

Ironically, the person who seemed the most out of control and crazy wasn't handicapped, a policemen, or even associated with the protest. She was just screaming horribly and walking down the street at a normal pace. Weird.

Field trip!

We went on a field trip last Wednesday. As a child, I remember these as being stressful but fun. I still feel the same way about them now. I found out we were going about five minutes before we left. I wasn't told where it was, so I felt really excited as our bus followed the signs to Children's Grand Park!...and disappointed as it turned into a parking lot for a different place immediately afterward. Anyway, that disappointment was short-lived because this was the best. place. for kids. ever. It was basically a warehouse of fun rooms for children, and we spent about 20 minutes in each one.

First we went to the glue and sand picture room, and I helped the kids write their names in English.

James was particularly proud of his shark picture.

Then we went to the sand room, featuring the finest, whitest sand ever. It also had a special place in the middle with a very thin layer of sand and an illuminated floor, so you could draw pictures and see them lit up.

Next came the grass room, which was totally incomprehensible. It involved a lot of doors opening up to show paintings and more doors. Maybe there was some kind of narrative, but it was lost on me. It was a good place for taking pictures of the students, though.

Then we went to a GIANT DRAGON MAZE JUMPING CASTLE!

For many children, this was actually terrifying. (Every child featured in this picture is crying.)

During this trip, I was casually ruminating about how different children are from adults, and how the things that once excited me (like GIANT DRAGON MAZE JUMPING CASTLEs) now make me kind of nauseated. But it all changed in the Dinosaur Digging Room!

The room was covered in the same fine white sand as we saw before, but beneath that sand were hundreds of dinosaur bones! The kids all got paintbrushes to work to uncover the dinosaurs. This brought back memories of all sorts for me, of digging holes to China and our second grade sleep-away field trip to dig up "dinosaur fossils." No one explicitly told us that the fossils were fake, and at the time I accepted my teachers at their word. Paleontologists needed the help of a schoolbus full of rowdy second-graders to find important dinosaur fossils, and I was there to help. I'm not sure at exactly what age I realized this was staged, but I was definitely in the double digits.

Seeing the kids uncover the dinosaurs, I started to get really curious. What kind of dinosaurs are hidden in this room? Are they placed at random, or if we uncovered it all would we see the skeletons in action poses, maybe fighting each other? I set to work with the 7-year-olds. I saw the tour guide kicking sand back over the dinosaur bones, and I glared at her.

We uncovered a head!

It was, necessarily, all downhill from there. All I had to teach in the afternoon was gym, which was about all the students could focus on, anyway. In brief, it was stressful, but fun.

A Comedy of Errors

Here’s an episode that would be remarkably annoying at home, but in my life here constitutes just another day:

I needed to go to a Citibank branch to send an international wire transfer to my home bank account. I googled “Citibank Seoul”, and found an address in Korean on maps not too far from my work. It said that they closed at 4:30, so right after work (4:00 PM) I hopped in a cab and gave the driver the address.

The taxi stopped where the building was supposed to be at about 4:08, and I rushed in only to realize that there was no security guard or directory of offices in this 40-story building. The only thing in the entryway was a touchpad where you write the floor you want to go to, and the screen shows a diagram that indicates which elevator you should take. Luckily, I had written the phone number of Citibank in my journal.

I’m a little shy to call in Korean, so I went outside and attacked random strangers by shouting “hello!” until someone was compliant enough to make a call for me. He told me that Citibank was on the eighth floor.

I went to the eighth floor, and Citibank clearly wasn’t there. I went to some ladies at another financial office, who didn’t have a building directory, so they called Citibank for me too. It turns out it was the 22nd floor. In Korean, 22nd sounds nothing like 8th. The first guy misheard in a big way.

I took the elevator up, and walked into the Citibank office. When I requested to transfer money home, the whole staff giggled. This is Citibank FINANCIAL, harharhar! I pretty much forced a woman completely fluent in English to write down an English help number for me. She did, and I left.

When I called the help line, there was no English option. Then I called the Korean Foreign Help line (02-1330!) and got the English number for Citibank from them.

I talked to the people on the Citibank English help line, and they told me I could send money home using online banking! However, I hadn’t logged in for a year (because multiple tellers told me you couldn’t make international transfers online) so I would have to come into a branch to renew my username and password. But every branch in the city closes at 4:00. I would have to go before work at 9:00.

The next morning, Amir took me to the real Citibank branch by my work. He dropped me at the station, and it was supposed to be 30-40 meters from exit 2. It wasn’t. I called the branch, and they said it was “behind the bakery”. There was nothing behind that bakery. I checked 3-4 times before changing my approach. I was once again yelling at every stranger I saw (in Korean) “Where is Citibank?” By “behind the baker”, they meant “on the same road as the bakery.” Uhh, thanks.

I got there, and got a new username and password. Then realized I can’t log on with a Macintosh computer, so I went to the teacher’s office to use the computer for personal business during work hours, because it was really getting down to the wire (haha) for my student loan due date. I had to install a bunch of protective software in Korean, which was basically me randomly clicking on buttons until I hit the magic combination. Then my login wouldn’t work, so I had to call the CitiBank English helpline again. It turns out they used my old Alien Registration Card number to set up my account, so they had to call the bank where I started my account to get that number. After I logged in, I had to call back because international wire transfers weren’t showing up as an option in the “Wire Transfers” section of the website. You actually have to click on “Global Business Center.” Of course.

BUT THEN I transferred the money! Hurray! And the exchange rate was favorable. The End.

The Unpopular Teacher

It has been hard to come to terms with it. Maybe my first clue was when I sashayed into a classroom full of 3-year-olds for the first time, smiled and said “Good morning!” A little girl looked up at me and screamed with what can only be described as pure horror. And that was just the beginning. Over the last three weeks it has been made clear to me that I am the most unpopular teacher.

When other teachers walk into the school in the morning, the children run up to them to hug them and greet them. When I come in, the kids by the door struggle to put on their school shoes faster to avoid any interaction whatsoever. Children seem to wander somewhat freely from room to room, with the exception of the English Room. The bravest kids will run to my window, scream “Hello!” and run away. This is a sign of daring behavior, a devil-may-care attitude that causes the rest of the class to giggle nervously every time the feat is performed.

There is an outgoing and somewhat oblivious 3-year-old that comes in on occasion and chats to herself in Korean while smearing her spit all over everything. “Yes, that’s a lion! Please don’t lick, hajima….jinja….okay, it’s yummy? Okay, yummy lion! L-l-lion!” I look forward to these visits.

I know I’m scary. I speak almost only English in class, and I’m strange looking. Compared to a bunch of beautiful Korean girls speaking to the kids in their native language, it’s no wonder there’s a stigma attached to my presence.

I didn’t care much, until I saw the TaeKwonDo teacher. He was in the gym with my favorite class, playing some kind of parachute game with the kids. Their faces were literally aglow with excitement and sheer happiness. Kids, why don’t you smile that way when you’re conjugating ‘to have’? Was my ‘who has the red marker’ game not equally great?

They’re talking and joking with him in the hallway. They’re fighting each other for his attention. Hey, there’s an adult down the hall who will listen to your jokes! And if you ask me if I’ll eat a dragon, I’ll say “yes!” That cracks you up, remember? Marina Teacher is cool, too!

As memories of popularity from my old job wear off, so does my enthusiasm for extracurricular interaction. I don’t bother the kids with simple questions or comments outside of class. If a kid screams at my door, I just offer a (condescending) smile and half-wave. I march into classrooms prepared to talk about ‘was’ and ‘is’, and I will take no nonsense. Including answering the favorite silly question of the five-year-olds, “Do you like hammer?” That’s. Not. Funny. We are here to learn the English. Now settle down and listen up. The unpopular teacher is talking.

“Welcome to HPS Playschool. You will be paid in Promotional Eye Cream.”

After putting in a year at Banana Kids, I managed to escape unscathed and land a new contract at HPS Playschool. This is very different from my other jobs, since the entire staff actively refuses to speak English. Which is not necessarily a bad thing; I’m automatically excused from all staff meetings.

On the first day, I went in to prep. The kids were coming the next day, so it was staff only in the building. The woman who I thought was my supervisor had texted me a few days before asking me to come in at 11:00 AM. At 10:50 AM, I got a phone call from her:

Diane: Hi, this is Diane, where are you?
Me: I’m a stop away!
Diane: We want you are coming at 12:00.
Me: Well, I’m already basically there, I guess I could wait nearby…
Diane: No, 2:00!
Me: Uhh, okay, maybe I could go eat lunch…
Diane: You are coming one hour before!
Me: Your text said 11:00, anyway, I’m almost there?

And THEN when I got to the school, Diane wasn’t there! There was no mention of Diane, ever again. I feel like I’m in one of those movies where I hallucinated a person and a job interview and I’ll never find out until I’m in a strait jacket.

Anyway, as per Korean culture, instead of being directly accused of being an hour late, cryptic questions were posed to me, like “Is your home far from this work?” “Is the subway difficult to navigate?” Having no graceful way to say ‘Diane told me the wrong time! Look at this text I have here to prove it!!!’ I was cornered into smiling and acting oblivious. (At the time, I thought covering for my supervisor’s error would pay off in the long run. Unfortunately, it appears my supervisor no longer exists.)

After an hour or two of looking over class plans and materials, I was ushered into another classroom for lunch. A man with a computer showing a Powerpoint presentation stood at the front. I thought he was the owner presenting something about the school, so I was super-obsequious. He gave me a tray of meats that I don’t eat and offered me a seat. I tried to look like I was eating by pushing rice around on my plate, and my co-worker mistook my dissimulation for a difficulty with chopsticks and brought me a fork.

While agonizing over the potential fall-out of not accepting food from the boss, I tried to create the appearance of listening politely to his speech. I understood nothing, but after he began clicking through slides I realized that he was not the boss, but an alternative weight loss and skin treatment salesman.

The vast majority of his speech was lost on me, but occasionally he would ask questions like “who here would like to have better skin? Raise your hand if you want to turn back the clock!” and some girls would raise their hands. Then in the middle he stopped and asked me (in Korean) “Do you understand this?” and I was like, (in Korean) “I understand eye cream.” I really got the crowd laughing with that one.

Then he said something, and everyone was going around the table saying numbers. I have no idea what the context was, but I said a number (155) and I won an eye cream tube! I imagine it was some sort of guessing game. I like to pretend that I guessed the value of the product, but honestly I doubt anyone would pay 155 Won for that stuff.

It was all downhill from there. The salesman sprayed something really painful into our noses that was supposed to make us not hungry. Then he made us chew on some horrible capsules for the same reason. By the end of the lunch, it was readily apparent that no one was eating it.

Now I have a coupon for a limited-time offer to buy a big package of whatever he’s selling for 550 Won (about 500 USD). Also, everyone got a free face mask. I don’t want to use it, but I feel bad throwing it out when I consider the physical pain I endured to obtain it.

I’m comforted by the fact that if my new job ever becomes too much, we’re housed in the same building as the Seoul Dementia Center. I hope I don’t need it.

I Don't Condone this Condom Bag

There's an old woman on my street who uses the back of a truck as a rotisserie to cook chickens. It's 4,000 Won (about $4USD) for a whole rotisserie chicken.

I gave it a try the other day. It's stuffed with rice, garlic, and raisins. Yum! It also comes in a large bag originally used for condoms. The writing was all in English, so I guess she had no idea.

I was a little grossed out, and also perplexed about how she got this bag? Why does she have access to a bag intended for people buying condoms in bulk?

Anyway, I still ate the whole thing. In one sitting. I consoled myself with the fact that these condoms were both "Elite" AND "Superior".

Hilarious Typos

Yesterday, I went to Home Plus. I was in the cleaning section. There was a mop. It had a label. The label read, "Moping for Room." AHAHAHA!

Yellow Dust

The weather forecast currently reads, 41 degress with haze. That "haze" is yellow dust from China. I didn't think the pollution here would be an issue, but over the past two weeks I have had all of the symptoms of a cold (sore throat, stuffy nose, hacking cough) without being sick. I need my glasses more than before, because it's hard to see through the haze. My co-workers can't wear their contacts anymore. It is disgusting. I'm thinking of buying a mask to wear on bad days. Also, what am I supposed to do when I want to let fresh air in? Is opening the window still better than letting the air get stale in my apt?

This sucks.

The Glory of the Wholesale

On Friday after work I wanted to walk around an unexplored part of Seoul, so I of course went to a place I've been dozens of times, Dongdaemun! I usually go to district one, which is full of beautiful, trendy clothes and people. Also, there are lots of outdoor performances in district one, usually by teenage boys dancing to pop songs. On Friday, I ventured into District Two.

Never have I ever been allowed into wholesale stores before. The showrooms in France would let me in sometimes, but would never tell me a price, let alone allow me to buy something! In the States, I'm not even sure how I would go about finding a wholesale warehouse that would let me in to nose around. So after toujours hearing "non", there was something really exciting about being able to just walk in, no questions asked.

I've been really curious about the facade that goes into selling clothes. My Economics professor insisted that all prices are exactly equal to their worth, but after working retail I think that's ridiculous. After watching Calvin Klein underwear go down from $12/pair to $4/pair, and seeing people pay both prices, I think it's all about luck. After all, fashion doesn't change so quickly that those basic pink briefs could be outmoded by 66% in two months. Somebody got ripped off, but because not enough people fell for it, the rest of us got the price we deserved (excess supply!) Anyway, every time I buy clothes and accessories, I get caught up in the same question: what is this actually worth? Straight from the distributor, what did the shop-owner pay?

The answer is, from a brief survey in Konglish, that clothes tend to be marked up about 300%, and bags maybe 200%. Of course, with clothes, you're paying for the convenience of a dressing room, something not available from wholesalers. In fact, at the wholesalers market, you can't even try on button-up sweaters. However, after visiting the "French Bag Market", I'm really glad that I never bought a pricey bag a block away in District One. In District Two, I found a high-quality, trendy leather bag for under $60.00. The price tag says $140.00, a price that I would have found completely reasonable (even on the low side) in District One.

Directions to Gwanghee Fashion Mall, where wholesale leather goods are sold: From Dongdaemun Stadium Station, walk down the street towards the N. side of the stadium (Migliore, Doosan Tower on your left.) Follow the stadium around, there will be a Coffee Bean on your right and an Art Gallery, keep going. The Gwanghee Fashion Mall is on your left. It doesn't open until about 9:00 PM, though, so don't show up early and then overstay your single beverage at a busy coffee shop! (Whoops.)

Chance

An average subway ride for me consists of brief stares from adults, long stares from children, and silence. Or maybe once a week the jovial "hello! where prum?", and an occasional Jehovah's Witness trying to save my wayward soul. So Sunday night was really unusual in that I was approached by not one, but two old men, who were apparently unrelated.

The first old man was yelling at an old woman walking away from him when I came onto the car, insisting that she sit in the special seats restricted to the elderly, disabled, and pregnant. She was by no standards good-looking, it was clearly a friendly invitation. She refused, and hobbled away alone. Because he was yelling in my general direction, standing up and seeming crazy, at first I didn't even turn around but instead presumed he was yelling at me. So both of us were actually protesting the invitation violently for about a minute. Then once I realized he wasn't talking to me I sat down, and after about ten seconds he noticed me and began to actually invite me over. I said no, and he got off the train two stops later. I looked at the guy across from me like 'what was that all about?' and he asked a question to the younger Korean guy next to him, I think he asked him how to say "I'm sorry" in English. I think this because after he asked him the question, the guy said "I"m sorry" in English. But he never said "I'm sorry" to me, he just got off the train.

Then, about two stops later, a couple with a little girl boarded, and so did another old man in hiking gear. Hiking gear is a staple of the elderly Korean's wardrobe. The family stood in front of me, and the old man stood separate. There was no apparent relation. This didn't stop him, though, from walking up to the little girl and yelling at her in Korean to practice her English, and repeatedly putting her hand into mine. Her parents were laughing indulgently, and she was turning bright red. I went along with it and said some basic stuff really slowly in between the old guy yelling at her. If she knew any English, no one was going to get it out of her. Then he asked me "where prum?" and exited. The family left a few stops later, re-enforcing my notion that there was no relation.

The coincidence of these two events happening on one subway ride, when I can go twenty or thirty in a row being left alone, reminds me of the danger of drawing a portrait of a place based on brief experience. Maybe I should stop calling Vienna seedy, or Switzerland happy. How long will it take before I have a really complete picture of the odds of any bizarre situation arising, as I do at home? I have seen many people throw up and pass out on the train, but last weekend was the first time I saw a police officer come onto the train because of it. Just when I thought I knew what was going on, the plot thickens.

In other news, I lost my camera, probably at a bar that I can't call because the number isn't listed. This is totally typical of Korea. I realized this when I reached in my bag to take a picture of "Chung's Pizza, A Delicious Concept for the Whole Family."

Happy Tofu Day!

Happy Korean Independence Day! Or Memorial Day, or something. I had the day off, but after buying groceries and spending lavishly at a falafel place I was left with $5.00 a day until Friday, which I think is only slightly more than what a child could live off of in India through Save the Children's sponsorship. This plus bad weather has left me pretty much unable to do anything except enjoy the bounty of the internet.

I did leave my apartment to get a week's worth of groceries, and I'm really glad I did because it was tofu day at Home Plus! They had out different kinds of tofu with sauces at every free sample stand. It was delicious. I wish every day was tofu day. *Sigh*.

These 3-day weekends are really not as fun as I thought they would be. The third day just feels kind of extraneous; it's boring unless you have money to do fun things. I'm actually looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. It's a new school year in Korea, and I have a new class. I plan to spend the evening re-reading The First Days of School, and extracting the very limited advice that applies to teaching pre-schoolers who know literally no English. What am I getting myself into?

Cat Cafe

(This image courtesy of the Korean Herald, which won't allow me to crop out the image of the dog cafe on the right.)
On Sunday, Katie and I went to a place called giocat, AKA the cat cafe near Hongik University. You pay 8,000 Won for a complimentary beverage and an opportunity to play with a ton of cats. It was pretty packed yesterday, there was at least a 2-hour wait. During those two hours we went to Dos Tacos, which has a lot of vegetarian options but is no On The Border.

When we were finally called in, we entered a room with dozens of cats. Bad cats and love cats were kept in their own spacious cages, but the rest were just roaming around. There was no flash photography allowed, and no holding cats when they want to go away. It seemed pretty cat-friendly, but the cats were surprisingly unaffectionate and not playful. I wonder if having a constant stream of people coming in and out is just too much for them, or if they get their play time done earlier in the day.

The decor was nice and I like the idea, but I felt like kind of a weirdo. I like taking care of animals, but not paying to pretend like I'm not intruding on their lives for my own enjoyment. And if you don't know, now you know.

The Choices All End in Death

I just watched a movie in which Kevin Costner plays a serial killer. He comes to people's houses, says hello, and then kills them.

I. This movie inspired me to:

1. Lock my door.

2. Ruminate on how I could beg for my life in Korean. I have a few options:

a. Say "I like it!" and point to myself.

b. Say "Okay!" and point to myself.

c. Say "No money" and point to myself.

d. Say "I don't like it!" and point to the gun.

II. These options inspired me to:

1. Continue studying Korean.

Objectification for All!

I went to the gym after work today and turned on the Fashion Network while I ran. There was a new show on about a reality weight loss competition called Dance Your Ass Off. Overweight girls get paired with hot guys and learn a pole dance routine. Then they perform it in stripper outfits and get judged. The girl who loses the most weight wins.

Kind of weird, right? But it's not Korean, it's AMERICAN. I plugged in my headphones to the TV for a second to make sure. A quick google search shows it's on the Oxygen Network.

First of all, this show proves that dancing is not at all the most effective way to lose pounds. If the winner had been against the competition on the Biggest Loser, she would have been sent home immediately.

Moreover, it just struck me as kind of wrong. Not that fat girls shouldn't be allowed to pole dance, but there's something kind of weird about putting on a show of only big girls that makes it seem like a spectacle. Or maybe that's actually my bias, and if I was a less judgmental person then it wouldn't be any different than a bunch of skinny girls on the pole. But then again, the girls aren't being admired, they're being asked to change. The more they have changed, the more likely they are to win. So it's kind of like the show is saying, learn how to be hot and thus lose weight.

Plus one girl made out with her dance partner on stage, and that was just tacky.

A Literary, Linguistic and Cultural Adventure

I've been reading like a recluse lately, and since I didn't bring many books over I've been relying on the English language book section of Bandi and Lunis. Today I went to the branch that's actually located in Jonggak station Exit Two. The selection is incredible; they have all of the contemporary hits and a huge section of classics. Browsing through those titles set on thick spines is frankly humbling. It's one thing to know that native English speakers get through these, but to imagine a Korean toiling through Finnegan's Wake makes me embarrassed of the relatively small effort it would take me to get through the many books I'd like to read but have put off indefinitely.

This morning I printed off a list of the Best 100 Books Published in the English Language Since 1900 (According to the Modern Library). I have fully read only twelve. Not that it's necessarily my goal to read all of them, I tried my best to read Lord Jim and I don't mind excepting that one, for example. But I would like to familiarize myself more with literature in general from the 20th Century, so I'd like to focus on that for a while. Besides, I think I've read enough 19th Century Lit to satisfy my interest in that time period. So I bought Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser, because I wanted to buy An American Tragedy but I have that at home so it seemed wasteful to get a second copy. I also added a Foreigners Guide to Learning Korean, which came with four CDs for only 20,000 Won! Maybe I'll finally start understanding what cashiers are saying when they give me the total. Now I just give them the biggest bill I have and hope it's enough.

After selecting these books, I went to the cash register to try to get the cashier to hold them while I visited the ATM. I succeeded with the help of my Lonely Planet phrasebook, and after getting the money I needed for the purchase I walked back. To the wrong register.

I went up to the manager and said (in Korean!) "two books". Then I pointed to myself, and to him. He asked me "holding?" I was like, "yeah, 2 minutes." And I pointed to the pimply teenager at this register, mistaking him for the pimply teenager at the other one, and kind of yelled hysterically (in Korean) "No have two books!?" Then I was pointing at my face like, 'Jesus, it's been two minutes and you already forgot about me?' The teenager was totally unimpressed, and fake-searched for my books while the manager was kind of freaking out. Then the manager's face lit up, and he walked over to the other register where another manager and pimply teenager were gawking at me, picked up my books, and rang me up.

The nice thing about this kind of thing happening over here is that I can walk away like nothing happened, and shrug as if to suggest that this is a perfectly normal way to act where I'm from. At home I actually feel the need to joke about it if I do something dumb, smile and explain...Here, I just can't. Although the situation may change once I'm done with Korean Elementary Level One For Foreigners!

Moving In, Again

I moved into my new apartment this Friday, and I'm pretty happy with the space! It's a studio, unlike my old apartment which was partitioned by a sliding glass door. I wasn't thrilled with this initially, but it's actually kind of nice to be able to see everything; I feel more in control of my surroundings somehow.

When I got in on Friday (sans luggage, thanks China Air!) I was dragged to work for orientation. I finally got home over 24 hours after I had boarded my first flight looking forward to a shower. I turned on the water, ran my hand under it, and nearly gave myself frostbite. You have to turn the hot water on, which was virtually impossible considering my inability to understand Korean. I basically went between pressing random combinations of buttons and running to the shower to see if it worked for about thirty minutes before, miraculously, something worked! I don't know what it was though, so I can't EVER turn it off.

I was pretty miserable when I saw the impossibly tiny closet the school provided until I went to take out some trash and found a wonderland of discarded furniture. I got a bureau in perfectly functional condition with some geometric shapes on it, and two guys from the street hauled it to my room for me. I love Korea! Other than that, I got a shoe rack, hanging bar, hangers and a drying rack from Home Plus for 75,000 Won, which is maybe $50USD. Plus some kitchen supplies in the dollar section at Lotte Mart. Success.

My building has a hair place, a few restaurants, and a 24-Hour Family Mart on the bottom floor. I realized I might be a pessimist when I was thinking about my relationship with Korean convenience stores. Each one has a small selection of items that they don't really have to carry, like kitchen scissors, adhesive hooks, tire rim polish, etc. Instead of being happy that one convenience store has it, I'm annoyed when another one doesn't. I really need an adhesive hook right now, and I don't want to walk a block to Lotte Mart. Family Mart, you failed me.

I Love Korean Food. I Love Korean Food. I Love Korean Food.

I have been here about a month, and I've decided it's time for me to fall in love with Korean cuisine. I bought some unidentified veggies today with the intention to learn about them by cooking and eating them. Experiment number one today was some kind of mint, and I think it went pretty well.



First I put some soy sauce in the pan over a light flame while I chopped the mint. When I glanced over, the entire pan was covered in baked soy sauce. Oops. I tried again with some olive oil mixed in, and that worked pretty well. I added the mint and some medium-firm tofu. After that had absorbed some sauce, I added in a small bowl of brown rice. I let this cook, stirring often, for about five minutes. I was really happy with the result!

I put half in tupperware for lunch tomorrow, and half on my dinner plate. I'm trying to figure out what size of portion I actually need to make me full. I was pretty shocked that I wasn't hungry after I finished eating; I think it was the tofu that completely satisfied me.

I would like to start making different sauces, and using less of them. Right now my kitchen is stocked with vinegar, soybean oil, olive oil, soy sauce, dark sesame sauce, regular sesame sauce, honey, salt and pepper. I've made some really tasty sauces, but I'd like to find one that doesn't make me feel like my face is an oilslick.

My kitchen has two open-flame burners, a toaster, a microwave, and that's it. No baking! I bought a cutting board when I first got here, but today I discovered a huge wooden one in the back of the cupboard! So now I suppose I'll never be at a loss for cutting board space.