Enjoyment

In my last entry I was just a tad irritated by Korea. What can I say? It happens when you're an expat. Some days just seem longer than necessary and when one doesn't have many outlets, it tends to come out full force in the few one does have. Anyways, I'm writing here to say I'm much better now. Things are starting to fall into place and/or I no longer feel I'm falling apart every moment I step out my front door. One reason for this is it's finally summer, and warm and the daylight lasts until 8 or 9 and I can relax outside (finally!) in the cooler summer evenings, skipping the stifling June afternoons. I can also run at night and hide amongst the shadows of Lego-like apartments, dodging to and fro like Batman or an alley cat on the prowl. Then in the humid early evenings when the sun is still out and draining, I can read under a tree or in an air-conditioned coffee shop and fall into universes alien to existence here.

I've also begun learning French, a language I believed impossible five years ago, but now find conquerable in contrast to my new fortress, the Korean language. I have found a French tutor and am finally carrying on conversations I never knew I had in me. Things like film noir, or Albert Camus, or Nicolas Sarkozy have never peppered my thoughts as they do now. It's not that I'm becoming an expert or anything, I mean I can't speak at length or in depth. But, I find myself using them in comparisons or questions, and then am shocked at my own knowledge. It's then, when I see the headway I'm making, that I want to learn more. Seeing progress is helpful in itself; but it is evermore so a therapy for the restless expat.

Lastly, I've begun volunteering at an orphanage near my apartment. It's small and I only tutor two students every week for one hour. But I enjoy it, and feel that perhaps I just may be doing the same for them as French is doing for me. Opening doors in my mind that I thought were securely welded shut. Every week I have a new game, something simple but fresh so that when they try to recall words we learn they can correlate the word with the game of that week. Er, that's what I'm hoping for. Either way, we have fun and enjoy getting to know each other. Both the students are sixteen, and awkward insecurity is no friend of theirs at the moment. The first week they were scared to laugh at my jokes and goofy strategies, the second week they warmed a bit when I brought the games I'd promised along with candy (the trick of every ESL teacher!), and finally this last week they appeared to show some sadness when I told them I wouldn't be able to come this next week due to orientation (a three day get-away where I should learn to be a better teacher, but will most likely just meet people, hang out and play beer pong... not my choice, rather an obligation of my contract ironically.)

Anyways, I'm going to be arrogant and think I'll be missed this week as I'll miss them. They're bright kids, just don't have the same opportunities as their peers thus shucked to lower level classes and passed through school with no hope of higher education. Not unlike our schools in America really, only I think there's perhaps a bit more sympathy in America for orphans than there is here in Korea. Not really certain of the programs we have, but there's is very hush-hush and usually managed by a local Christian or Buddhist community.

To put my statements in perspective, to be an orphan here is to have no family lineage, the keystone of every Korean's life. So to have no family means you don't really have anything to honor and pride yourself on. Remember, in this country they put their last names first as a matter of pride their family. They also base marriages more on the fact of the families liking each other rather than the actual bride and groom to-be. Moreover, the reason the orphans are even orphans at all is usually due to divorce, where off-spring from a first marriage is not accepted as apart of the family of the second marriage thus they're sent away, usually to orphanages like this one I'm volunteering at. Blood is such a big part of Korean culture and psyche that it's also the reason I and other expats are such outcasts. We can't (and should never in some older Korean's minds) share the same blood as them. It's kind of like Harry Potter actually, the fight between 'pure-bloods' and 'half-bloods'. Those who taint the purity of their Korean blood-line with a foreigner spouse are looked down upon by older Koreans, like they've destroyed something sacred and have no shame in it. Even some younger Koreans stare and gawk at mixed race couples with their mixed race children, like animals at a zoo, if you're different you're fair game for eye-balling. My point is that it's not good to be different here. Being the same is good and being the best is your goal. Be the best among the same and you're a role-model for Koreans.

So, back to orphans, they're not as palpably different as mixed-race couples and children or as much as myself and other expats. Yet, they are different in the context of modern Korea. To not have a family to call your own is not a good starting point for a career. I doubt that even with the same education as their peers, the same looks and the same resume that they still wouldn't be picked for the job because of their disconnect from Korean society. But to add to that disconnect is a system against them, meant to keep them at levels of work deemed appropriate by society and the government. I asked my students at my elementary school what they wanted to be and their answers were all big and dreamy like a child's should be. Astronauts, soccer players, scientists, dancers. Given that my orphanage students are a little older and so a little less likely to dream so big, I asked them just to see and they didn't have answers. Neither believed they had any real choice in the matter. They just followed the system, did as they were told and lived day to day. "How was your week?" "Nothing special." "How about ten years from now?" "Nothing special."

Though I don't go often and really can't speak with my students with out the Korean translator with me, I really would like to help the students, to make a difference in their lives. It seems others feel the same but just don't know how to go about it. I can't help but think that perhaps that's all people, that everyone just wants to help, wants the best for their fellow man. Thus, with this new found optimism I'm returning full force every week with my games and spunk in the highest of hopes, thinking all the while about the story of the little girl throwing starfish back into the sea and answering the question of "Why? When they're are so many to be helped? Why bother?" and she replies with another toss of a starfish, "It mattered to that one." It's a very empowering story to run through your head over and over, and I think it's a bit more productive than my paranoid running theory.

Thus, on that note, my new progressive theory is that perhaps I can make a slight glimmer of hope appear on my student's horizons, even if it's very small and not remembered by either. I would like to think that like my progress in French for me, their sliver of progress for them gives them a boost of confidence in a world weighted against them. That with just a little handout of help that they'll think "Yes, I can." and that perhaps that can stretch on through their next, major rat-racing years. Extremely optimistic, I know, but if you think about their stories, about why they're where they are and why I'm sometimes unhappy where I am, then I think it's the perfect medicine. Nothing cures suppression like ignorant, love-filled optimism and enjoyment right?

Running

"A year alone can fool any mind, into thinking there ain't much to rewind."

My thoughts exactly. Most days here pass by me like spindles of a pinwheel, going round and round with the same activities, same friends, same life. But when the rarity of getting a whole day to myself arises, and I finally have the hours to pass on my own watch, I'm off-set, nearly nervous. I don't know what to do with my time. I think there must be some great activity I can accomplish, some Mona Lisa in need of painting, or some child in need of saving. I want to DO something but find myself suffocated for work or even play. I find myself starving for life.

In that suffocation, one could go crazy. Or shall I say one does go crazy, as that's where I feel I'm finally at because I'm paranoid as I walk down the street. I know what will happen, I know how many looks I'll receive just because I'm 'different', a 'foreigner'. I'm also scantily dressed for Korea, not America, but Korea in general. I'm wearing a tank-top with a short-sleeved sweater over it, rather short shorts and doll-like shoes with little embroidered flowers on them. I'm comfortable for the eighties high day that awaits me. I know I'll get stares of course, but then that spiteful, crazy voice inside my head says "NO! You have every right to dress the way you want, when you want, and most certainly on YOUR day off with high temps!" One last look in the mirror before I leave my self-centered island of an apartment and I'm off, out to turn some heads but trying my best to be apathetic towards it because I'm going to DO something today, not just hide in my shelter and watch a beautiful day pass me by.

It's paranoia I think as I walk down the street. I feel stares, I see old men and women stop what their doing as I walk by, hear conversations halt just to ogle me. It's then that I wish I could melt into the moss colored paint peeling of a building next to me and disappear, fade into black like Metallica always ominously sings in my ear. I just want to be where I'm normal!

It's not everyday that I feel this isolated. Most days I have school to think about, French to study, a novel to throw myself into, friends to meet in Seoul. I have a life, I swear. It's just on days like today, when the weather is beautiful and I have hours to squander that I wish for freedom, liberation from my worries of stares and thoughts of others. I long for America then. I admit it, I wish I was in the land of equality and freedom even if it's tainted with greed and sex driven sociopaths. At least there no one checks to see if I can speak the language, or comes up to me to ask about my religion (okay they do, but they're much easier to tell off than these Korean zealots!), no one stares unabashed as I walk in a store, and no one comes up to me asking for lessons in English (a quirk here that I understand, yet abhor because it's like a hard slap of a reminder that I'm different.) All these things and more dissipate as I cross into America (or even American army bases). The level at which my appearance matters goes down from 99% to 20% in importance. I can then stretch out on a lawn chair on a hot afternoon in just my tank and shorts. I can walk down the street without fear of being accosted by some rando wanting something from me, if even it's just a 'Hello'. I can be among people and pretend I'm at home amongst strangers; probably the greatest thing I miss. Pretty much, I can be me and not be self conscious about being so.

I'm certain that's why I'm now so into running. Just like I was in college and for similar reasons as well: asserting my individuality, proving I can kick ass, and finding peace amongst chaos; just a few on the list of reasons I've picked it up again here and can't seem to stop. It's a good thing for my body especially, which had wasted away on a winter of cabin fever and Korean style Ho-hos. The in-shape side affect is nice, and gives me a boost of confidence to leave my apartment/island. But running, the activity itself, is starting to act as my saving grace here. The sheer enjoyment I get out of it is so magnificent that I sometimes think I should just be like that legendary girl in college who ran everywhere, in just plain clothes, with books and backpack in tow, and with the longest hair I've ever seen bouncing to and fro on her buttocks as she surpassed all onlookers without care. My God I laughed when I finally saw the girl everyone gossiped about. It was so funny to see. Her and that hair- a perfectly constructed unit and now legend of my college years. I laughed but now I cry. I want to be like that girl here I think. I understand her now. It's so liberating to fly everywhere, past everyone and their judgments and eyes.

When I'm running no one comes up to me for English lessons, no one accosts me about religion. If they stare, I tell myself they're staring in awe at how fast that foreigner girl is. If I catch them staring I run faster, stronger; it becomes a matter of pride in myself and my foreign status that makes me push for the stars and beyond. No one can stop me. I am free but also of an island, one that is outside my small apartment yet which still serves as a home for my thoughts and self and safety from all else. Korea fades into the badly painted buildings and stair wells and not just my Metallica me. I become the queen of the road or pathway I'm cruising upon. I find my voice in my head and she's powerful now, unstoppable. She starts to chant a mantra and I start to run to its beat. She says, "Move out of the way because I'm not afraid of your stares today, I'm not paranoid. I'm ready for anything because I'm running, because I'm free, because I'm me and I'm home!" If this girl had a name it would be just like the movie, Kick Ass!

Madgab

One of my favorite games to play with my family is Madgab. If you don't know what it is, Madgab is a group game where one person draws a card with a contorted phrase on it and their teammates have to guess what the phrase is by hearing it, reading it and trying to decipher what the connected letters/words are actually saying. It's so much fun, and we always have a blast at family get-togethers (though I admit, I've found a cheat and it's not so much fun when I play.) But the others play fair and come up with some ridiculous conclusions that leave us in hysterics. For instance, my cousin tried guessing the phrase with a number of different accents. Her phrase was "Chest Hey Kitty Sea". (Yes, read that and take a guess at what exactly it is- not easy once you've read it!) I think she tried to guess it along with her teammates for the whole two minutes, but her especially going through a list of accents and coming up instead with a table of laughing hyenas, myself included! From the short consonants and long, drawn out vowels of Chinese to sing-song Norwegian to question and answer format, I swear my cousin said it in every possible format and still could not for the life of her and her kin, come up with the phrase she was saying over and over and over and over again. Actually, with some of her accents we thought she got it, she was so close to the phrase. Yet, she'd start on another accent to try and hear the answer in a new spectrum. I don't remember if she got it or not, but the answer was "Just take it easy." An answer we thought all too fitting for such a difficult phrase!

Anyways, I miss this game and my family to play with, but the reason I bring up this story is that I just realized that this game, though I thought I missed it, is actually all around me here in Korea. I swear, every where, everyday! From conversations with my co-teacher and students and fellow Koreans, to reading bad English on signs, to listening to K-pop (the Korean music here that's pretty much Backstreet Boys in Korean) to watching television. It's everywhere. "It" being bad English, bad contorted English!

For instance, a couple of weeks ago I went on a trip with a bunch of foreigners, but I ended up sitting next to one of the few Koreans (a gyopo, so born in Korea but moved to the USA when young). Her English was very good and we chatted for most of the train ride. While we were talking I didn't notice much Konglish (Korean-English that is pretty much their accent/pronunciation of English words put to Korean.) I didn't notice until we got to the turtle ship that is. "Wow, the turtle sheep is so amazing! I never knew!" she said. "The what is so amazing?" I caught my mind tripping up. I didn't want to poke, but she had told me before that she couldn't say 'ship' right and that her children made fun of her. So I joked with her a bit and made her say it again. Then I wondered how she says 'shit'. It's the same sound, so put in her words should come out 'sheet'. I asked her and sure enough she couldn't say 'shit' to save her soul. Her personality was so kind and innocent that I told her her mispronunciation must be meant to be, that to say 'shit' correctly would be the truest profanity against God and mankind and would bring apocalypse if she said anything other than 'Sheet balls in May'. She laughed and said, 'Aw, sheet.'

Moreover, still at the turtle sheep, I remembered my friend Jinah (the girl I wrote a blog about in March) could not say 'turtle' to save her soul either. It was a 'turter', the 'l' sound being often confused with 'r' here because of their tricky Korean letter ㄹ that is sometimes a 'r' and sometimes a 'l'. Thus, standing at the pride of Korea, the great turtle ship that defeated the Japanese so long ago, I could not think of anything outside of how, in the world of Madgab and Konglish, it is demoted to a 'turter sheep', with holes in its bottom to 'sheet', and with spikes on its 'loof' to 'kir' the Japs.

So, I guess what I'm getting at is that I never would have thought that such a simple game could prepare me for a life a world away, but it certainly has. These are but a couple of simple examples of the Konglish I've run into here. There are so many more! So, so many more! Other sounds that are often confused here are 'b' and 'v', 'f' and 'p', 'sh' and 's', and 'th' and 't'. Words like 'violin', 'river', 'love', 'for', 'thank', 'ruler', 'shop' and 'coffee' become 'biolin', 'liber', 'rub', 'por', 'tank', 'rurer', 'sop' and 'coppee'. Thus, imagine talking with someone and hearing, "I went to da Han liber yesterday and drunk coppee wid my priend. Tank you por sowing me dat sop." Can you say tricky? No, but I can say 'ticky'. It's bery ticky libing and speaking here. Bery ticky. It's a good thing, I think, that I can chest hey kitty sea, done two?

905

In elementary school, I remember talking about people who influence you and who you influence. We were told to think of the people who make a difference in our lives and to make a list of them. I wrote my parents, my friends, family and probably my dog. That list hasn't changed much. My parents are still my number one backers, my friends and family a jumbled list of great people who I rely on everyday (and they are probably very unbeknown of it), and then, you know, I think still rely on my dog, even if she has been dead for four years. Nothing has really changed, and I'm quite proud of that. Though I might be able to add a few different characters to that friend category that certainly weren't there before and who have most definitely changed my views on the world... Those cards know who they are I believe :P)

Then there was the second list we were told to make. It was a list of the people we influence, whether for good or for bad. That list is most definitely a bit different now. When I was ten, I believe I wrote all of my friends and then maybe the fish I fed every morning (though forgetting sometimes, thus passing the chore onto my mother.) In all I think the grand total was ten or fifteen things/people I influenced. I couldn't even really count my dog as she was fed by my dad and brushed by my mom. I just played with her. Perhaps she counts. We'll say she does. So maybe sixteen people/things. Sixteen.

The title gives my grand total away, but this is what I figured out this week. With all of the classes I teach, an estimated 35 to 40 students in each class, five to seven classes in a grade, and four grades. The grand total of people I influence on a weekly basis is 9-0-5. Nine-hundred and five! I can't even believe it! That's 56.2 times the people/things from my first list. And that's not including all of the new friends I made, nor the sixth grade I taught last year. If one were to count them the grand total would be more like 1,200-1,300. My goodness! How life spins and churns. I don't think I ever dreamed I'd be so influential. I'm really not that kind of person. I never wanted to lead anything once I got into junior high school. I just wanted to enjoy everything. Now I get to do both and I'm bewildered of myself. Absolutely astounded, and a little regrettably proud. I usually save the bragging for my mom (she doesn't think she does, but she does a bit... and you know, all moms should and must!), but for this number of minds I've touched, well, I can't help myself. I think it's awesome.

So, on that note, here are some more pictures of the cherubs I've gotten to know and love over the past year. They have changed my second list and astounded me, but have also changed my first one, too. It's now 1,300 people long and growing :)

My fifth grade class.

The usual stance of the fifth grade and up. BOREDOM. Until I get them riled up that is...

My favorite third grade class. So cute!!! The girl in the pink up front has the biggest smile and cutest voice I've ever heard. And what does she use that charm for? To call out my name whenever she meets me in the hall. "JENNA TEACHA!!!!!!" Grabbing my arm and hanging on it like I'm some camp counselor or older sister. What can I say? I love it. All of the third graders have started to follow her lead though. So it's getting to be take down Jenna or rip apart Jenna, which is a bit more taxing on me than first was. I feel like bird seed actually. All of the birds flock to me and I look like that bird-feeder lady in Home Alone. Then comes Jiny, my co-teacher, around the corner to save the day and shoo the birds away before Jenna gets eaten/torn apart. Ah... and I still love them, and Jiny.

My birthday surprise. A huge and very scrumptious cake, candles and a choir of my co-teacher, another lovely friend teacher and my fifth grade co-teacher. They sang to me in English, then Korean. Then left me with a seriously large cake to either stuff myself or divide between whatever teachers I could find on a friday. Needless to say, by the time I was through with the cake, there wasn't much less to divy up!

The lines. Practicing them at least. They may be no army or grand marching band, but they do pretty good for little kids full or wonder and energy. They also don't look like much here and that's because this is only half the school. Naturally, it's easier to practice when you have a little leg room!

Jinah!

When I was at home my mother found something of great interest, and well, of great coincidence, too. She found the contact information for a long lost friend from high school. The long lost friend being the Korean foreign exchange student I had befriended my senior year of high school. Her name was Jinah and she had been only 15 when participated in the foreign exchange program that would be a learning experience ten fold over what she’d hoped for.

Jinah was taken-in by a family that was by most standards perfect. They had a mom, a dad, two daughters and a son away at college. They had a beautiful house in town next to the hospital and cemetery (something I always thought was a convenient coincidence for those who passed on during their stay). They were also quite active in the school, running to games and activities, volunteering and talented, too. They were seemingly perfect for a foreign exchange student because they were seemingly the perfect Caucasian American family.

The whole year plays out in my mind now like a movie. The girl comes and is welcomed with open arms. She is treated like a princess for the first month maybe two. Then the novelty starts to wear off. She doesn’t speak very good English, thus there’s a lot of miscommunication. There are a lot of necessities for her, so she becomes a hassle. And finally, she says she’s not really Christian and doesn’t want to go to church. Well, we can’t have that. If she’s going to be that ungrateful, we’ll no longer help her or accept her as apart of our family. She may live under our roof for the rest of her stay, but it won’t be pleasant, she will not be happy!

And that’s my guess as to what went on behind closed doors. A scenario out of the pages of Harry Potter. She’s taken in, then told to live under the stairs. Only in this case she was accepted by choice (and it’s my guess for appearances sake, too). Then after she did not live up to their perfect expectations, she was berated for being different, for being foreign, for being herself.

I must say now that I’m quite proud of my group of friends in high school. They were kind to her, invited her places, showed her things, tried to talk with her. They tried to understand a little as to what it was like for a foreigner to come to small-ville, Wisconsin. Thus, I think she was happy for some time, even if it was only once every weekend.

Then there was how I got to know her. Jinah had joined the cross-country team for something to do after school and to meet new people. I was a senior then and on my last and final year of sports, plays, activities and so on. Needless to say, I was very busy. But as she was on the team, I tried to get to know her a bit. One of the few who was not scared to talk with her right away, she started to ask me for rides home when the weather was bad. So I of course said yeah, sure, and thus started our friendship. I tried so hard to get what I was saying across to her. I doubt whether 80 percent of it was ever understood, but I think she just liked to be talked to, to feel accepted by someone. So I kept chatting, asking her questions (sometimes miming them if she didn’t understand), and always hoping that she wasn’t bored with me and that someday she would flood our conversations with her miraculous English.

That of course never happened. She improved but was in no way talkative really. She was just sweet, with a kind disposition. She seemed to enjoy everything she came across except for the front door to the family’s house where she stayed. Thus, I liked her very much and was very sad to see her go that spring.

Six years later my mother finally opens a drawer that has been stuck shut for two years. On the top of all the junk sits a piece of paper with a name slightly forgotten, with information below it slightly inaccurate. It also happens that I am living in the same country now as the girl and as the information. I can now read it and speak enough of HER language to contact her. I also happen to be at home in Wisconsin, on an unplanned two-week leave, when my mother happens to find this all the week before. Thus, I came home and found yet another reason to go back. Like I’m meant to be living in Korea, meant to meet this girl six years ago, and then meant to find her again. Funny how life works like that, but that’s how this one happened to pan out.

Three weeks ago I tried emailing the address on the information slip. It couldn’t send, the address was non-existent. I tried looking up the apartment address on the internet, and found nothing. Then I tried calling her cell-phone, and was a different person altogether. Finally, I tried her home phone. I asked for Jinah Jang. My Korean felt oddly strong that day. I remembered how to ask where she was. So I asked. I didn’t understand the answer, but did at the same time. My guess was that she was ‘out’, but that she did live there. That this was her father and that he knew what I was asking about.

Then I realized I hadn’t tried speaking English yet, and that maybe he thought I was Korean. So I said in English, “I’ll call back.” At this the gentlemen simply when “Ahhh!”, like it was all making sense to him, like the bad Korean on the other end had some logic to it now. He just said ‘Nae, jomshimanyo’ (Yes, wait a minute.) My heart picked up a beat, was he going to get Jinah? Was she actually there?

He came back and instead was able to say in his limited English the ‘handa-phone’ number in English. I thanked him profusely then called the number he’d read for me. She picked up after only two rings. I spoke in English, she seemed confused. I tried the Korean phone etiquette’s “Yoposaeyo?” and she seemed more confused. I switched back to English and tried to explain quickly who I was. CLICK. She hung up on me. My bad, I botched that one. So, I texted her then and explained who I was and what I was doing in Korea. Not fifteen minutes later did I receive a text back with nearly all exclamation-points. She was indeed so happy to hear from me!

So we made plans for that weekend. She lives in Gwangju, about four hours south of me by train. So, I being the lover of all things new and exciting, hopped on a train for Gwangju and was accepted with open arms by her, her friends and her family. We went for tea at a university area tea café. Then did the very Korean sticker-photo booth and made memories to last as long as the adhesive does. Then onto dinner with her family at an all vegetarian buffet… turns out Jinah is vegetarian as well! After that, we ended the night in a ‘W-ii room’, a place where you can rent any game and a room for an hour for five thousand won (about $5).

The next day we went to the Bamboo Forest near Gwangju with her and her friends. It was a beautiful place, and a lovely day for a walk. So we got to walk and talk, and catch up on life over the past six years. A truly lovely experience, and one I’ll never forget.

In a couple of weeks, Jinah is planning to come to Seoul for a weekend. Hopefully, I can show her just as much hospitality as her, her family and her friends showed me. They were really much too kind to the foreigner! But gladly so, as well.

I think it's so much more romantic to carve one's initials on a bamboo tree. ^_^

A great example of the randomness of Korea. Obviously, we're in a bamboo forest, there should be panda bears!

Our meal of rice and beans in a bamboo 'cup'. Naturally, the cup is made from the bamboo of the surrounding bamboo forest. Good meal, but I could have gone for two!

Jinah and friends on our walk around the park area near the bamboo forest. They're all so cute and sweet, and obviously Korean with those poses :)

The Korean pancake appetizer/meal thing. It's kind of like an omelet with all its onions, green peppers, meat/seafood of choice and egg coverage. But the substance they use has egg and flour and salt, so like a pancake but not. Hm... difficult to explain but it's very tasty!

Jinah and friend (can never remember Korean's names if only met once) pose in the bamboo forest at a 'resting area'. Also, that's a kind of kimchi pot to the left, now also used as decoration or trash bins at cultural parks.

Jinah is left, me obviously, then the sweet couple we played wii with.

The mother of pearl peacock on the huge wardrobe in Jinah's home. She said her parents got it as a wedding present. Amazing how intricate the whole thing was!

The entire wardrobe. It's about 6 ft high and 12-13 ft long. All of the decor is done by hand, making this worth a small fortune. (About 2-3,000 dollars.)