Beggars

I'm beginning to understand that no matter where I go there will always be some form of beggars, homeless and not. They were outside my front door and back in Madison while I lived on State Street. Heck, one even broke in my apartment hoping to get a warm night's rest. They were on every corner in Memphis, New York City, Seattle, London, Paris... any city in the world and you'll find the unfortunate mixed in with the lazy. It's a sad and pathetic fact. *By sad and pathetic, I mean their condition is - that its tragic in this day and age for there to still be people without basic living necessities. NOT that they themselves are sad and tragic. Some are lazy, okay, but not pathetic. Ha, yes, I think the system is!

Anyways now, I may not seem it sometimes, but I really am ridiculously sensitive to other people's suffering. I can't stand it. It bothers me to have something other people don't. It bothers me even more being unable to give that something, whether it be money, clothes, food, health, love and so on. It seems the list is endless when it comes to helping the unfortunate. And in a way it is. They need the basic necessities and really nothing more. I mean most of them would be happy just to have what we take for granted everyday.

So, my point is that while traveling throughout Vietnam - a developing country focused solely on money making; for instance it's a now you see it now you don't sort of shopping! One minute you have interest in an object, the next it's yours and you wonder when you ever took out your purse in the first place. Then traveling through Cambodia- very basic development mainly in Phnom Penh while the rest of the country sits in poverty. The only wealth coming in via tourism and very limited exportation. And lastly, traveling through Thailand, the money grubber of all South East Asia. Over half of the population lives in and around Bangkok, making it the capitalistic giant of Indochina, competing as an equal with only Singapore. Thus, while traveling through all three I had the opportunity to experience all three types of beggars.

1) The nomadic beggar-aka bum. Lives out of bag(s), uses abandoned buildings as homes, finds random work sometimes, but usually takes up street begging as it's easier and more profitable. Thus, those that choose this lifestyle over working.

2) The unfortunate beggar- aka homeless. Lives similar to nomadic beggar but can't find work because of mental or physical disability. Thus, little choice in lifestyle. There are some jobs, such as Angkor Artisans which is an art factory of sorts that employs only the disabled or there are menial, short-term jobs that have little stability. Yet, both of these are few and far between, therefore making it still difficult for the disabled in a developing country.

3) The child beggar- aka ignorant byproducts of beggars one and two. Live with no idea of another way of life. They know, much like any child knows, how to get what they want. Like the eight year old throwing a fit at the grocery store, these children know that if they beg from foreigners that they will get money. They don't know that they're continuing the cycle of poverty for their family by not going to school. These children are products of their parent's need for the basic necessities. Whether their parents are unfortunate or nomadic beggars is a mute point. They should be in school and after they should be playing as all kids should. Some may say their form of begging does not hurt anyone as any money they make helps support their family and perhaps later education. I think that's very short sighted, and that after teaching children for a year (given I'm no expert), I can only argue that education is a must for society, and that without it we are what we know, which for them is not much.

Okay, sorry- long tirade. It was just very difficult to see children as young as four in rags and dirt asking for money. And then to see the mother standing there with them urging them on. I wanted to yell at her, but knew it wasn't her, it was the government, the country, society. She obviously had no other choice than to exploit her children. And in turn her children will follow suit without question or option.

So, that was the situation I and my traveling fellows were faced with. The worst being the children, as I don't care who you are you're heart has to bleed somewhat for a four year old with no shoes and empty pockets. I did at least, and so did my companions. There was one situation while crossing the Cambodian border to Thailand that actually left us laughing. As by that time, we had had five straight days of begging and were quite tired of being rich bitches.

Crossing the Border:

There were three Australian guys of Italian ancestry on our tour. Two were cousins and the other was a good friend. They were a stitch, naturally, having an Aussie environment growing up and then Italian rich blood, they could not help but be entertaining. The one guy, Frank, was the shortest of the crew. He reminds me of a better looking Danny DeVito, actually. Just more muscle and smiley eyes. He's so easy going that you wonder if anything bothers him. And well, I think he must radiate that sweet disposition because no matter where he went, the beggars would ALWAYS go to him first. He'd look around at the rest of us with a terribly confused face and smile, then look back down at the kids with wide eyes and open hands. We'd all laugh at him and keep walking, the children then catching up with the rest of us and asking "One dollar? One dollar?" We were told not to give them anything, so as not to promote begging. So we didn't, we kept on and would buy things from the children sellers, never just give.

At the Cambodian-Thai border we had the same situation. We stood around with our bags waiting for our tour guide to finish dealing with border control, just chatting and taking in the new country. All of a sudden this girl flies- I mean literally flies- to a prayer position at Frank's feet. I don't think he even realized what she was doing at first, she flew in so fast and stealthy. He looked down then looked around at us. We're all staring at him in confusion as well.

Then the girl starts to bow up and down on her knees. Her hands touching his shoes when bowed down, then cupped when raised. She did this for about a minute with Frank trying to shoo her away. The rest of us giggling at his luck. Finally our tour guide comes, he doesn't see the girl as he's worried about getting us through the last check point. So he just walks by, Frank standing there now trying to get his stuff together to shoo the girl away. We all start to walk after our guide. Frank does so as well, and does the girl give in?

No, she starts to walk backwards still bowing and begging, bowing and begging. We're all laughing now as Frank, his eyes confused yet humorous begins to speak Italian to her. He starts making the classic hand gestures and using his foreign tongue to hopefully confuse the girl. (Most can recognize English.) We all start to laugh at the situation. I think the girl recognized this because she then continued to tap his chest, then hit his chest, then finally began to pinch his nipples! Not kidding, she honest to God began to pinch and twist at them.

Frank I think was so confused and unbelieving that the girl would procure his chest like milking utters that he only jumped back. He didn't want to react back with a push or tap, given she's just a kid. So he starts to laugh and crosses his arm across his chest hoping to derail her sharp advances. She continues to bother him until our tour guide finally notices and yells at her for bothering him. She regretfully retreats from her new play thing, and probably went into waiting for the next unsuspecting tourist with a sweet disposition.

It was then that I discovered a fourth beggar category- the dominatrix! Holy wow, I'd never have thought that of a kid, but she definitely was a tough cookie and I'm scared to think of her exploits when she grows up! Hm, okay just kidding, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just a different way of begging that's all!

Cambodia- The sellers congregated in waiting for our or any foreigner's arrival. They're not technically beggars, I know. But sometimes I did get confused!
Our first shock of the beggars and sellers of Cambodia. They honestly stuck their nose right on the bus window. They stared at us, and us at them. It made me wonder who was the monkey in the zoo. Us or them?
This was a sweet kid at the brick factory. He's about eight years old, and was first shy of the camera. Course, once he saw the result, he began to pose. The kids in the background are amazed at my friend, Chris - one of the Aussie/Italian guys.
This little girl was 12. She was selling pineapple and mango along with fifteen other children. She spoke very good English, so I began to chat with her. She was of course trying to sell me her pineapple the whole time (and I did buy some), but I had much more interest in chatting about her life. If she goes to school, what kind of house does she live in, how many siblings does she have, and so on. This is her eating a deep friend grasshopper that I was far too scared and too vegetarian to try. I told her if she ate it, then I'd take a picture- remembering her and the deep fried grasshopper for much longer than just eating the silly bug.
At the brick making factory. Our tour guide gave them each a 500 riel bill. Equivalent to 12.5 cents. Not much to us, but to them it's about 3 hours of work. Each person lives on 1 dollar a day. They live communally which then disperses the expenses. Yet, come on, it's a dollar a day. And even though the cost of living is extremely low in Cambodia, it's not that low. This was such a humbling experience for me, and anyone for that matter.

Traveling

The silly thing about traveling alone is that it's really easy to lose yourself. For me it's a good thing. I travel and I find myself lost in the dreams of sunken empires, young minds, grand buildings, sunrises and sets and whatever else I happen upon. I let it all change me, affect me. I want to feel it all and not miss a moment. This is me traveling like the cliche feather in the wind that I am, that defines me.

Others who I cling to for stability are able to withstand their surroundings like mountains. They amaze me as I brush past them on my way to see this building and that Buddha. I see them, but to me they are reference points. I look at them, understand them, then run the other way in search of something more. Near parallel with my real life, where I do the same with people I meet in my everyday. I see them, walk by and never look back. I could feel bad, but I think it's that way for everyone isn't it?

I think this is why I like traveling. While doing so it is okay to see things for a moment and then never again because that's all it is, a moment. You have it forever and yet you don't. It's there and yet it's fleeting. A snapped picture later and you wonder whether any of it happened at all.

It is then that I think the world for my camera, and then thank my camera for lasting as long as it can on wretched power sources. Without its snap I would never remember the shot, without it's flash I would never see the dark. It's amazing how we can capture an entire journey with a few photos and notes. You'd think a two week escapade would need many pages and resources to captivate. Yet, as I look through my photos one by one, as I study their outlines and faces and lighting and texture I begin to see that such a journey will be reduced to just those things, that I will never be able to relive those moments ever again. They are gone though present. They can be remembered yet forgotten. Such a silly way to view things, in photographs and words. They're terribly nondescript for the foreign eye. To me I see the laughs and jokes behind the smiles, the anger behind the frowns. I know the reason and it makes no never mind to anyone else. To me these pictures are not fleeting, they are not momentary, they are permanent in my hippocampus. Then again, they wouldn't be permanent without the picture itself. Thus, I love the picture just as I love the memory that it retains.

I have therefore picked my most favorite photos of my journey through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia. In them are my memories which I will try to describe for you.

In northern Thailand I took a 3 day trek through the jungle. The first day I and my tour group got to ride elephants! Yet as I was the only one without a 'pair', I was told to ride not on my own elephant with my own chair but on as a third person an already chair taken elephant. Thus, I got/had to ride directly on the elephant's head! So going up and down the hills for an hour was very interesting and very scary! No safety net, no handles except for the chair and couple's legs behind me. This is the top of my elephants head. His hair was surprisingly corse and scratchy through my fisherman's pants. And needless to say I don't need to experience this again. It was fun, but no, not again!
This is the first tour group I was with. The long tour of 9 days through three countries: Vietnam for two days, Cambodia for five and Thailand for two. They were a fun group and I miss them actually! It's only been a week but we felt like family. This picture is in front of Independence Monument in downtown Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
This is of S21, the famous prison and torture center for the Khmer Rouge. As an outsider it's hard to believe that such atrocities happened only a short time ago in that lovely country, but at this place it's all too real. The floors are still blood stained some thirty-odd years later. The ceilings and walls still have splatter. It's a sick display of the terror humanity can conjure, yet a necessary one. Without this place as a standing reminder to be human, I almost think human kind could easily forget. I and the others in my group were white with horror as we walked through cell after cell. I can only hope every person finds the same feelings. If not, I dare say they are not human.
I thought this man was so ironic. We were told to respect the monks because they are sacred. For women, we aren't supposed to even touch them, and men are supposed to avoid touching them. No pictures and no talking to them. Well, a monks duties usually include turning away from all material things. I thought cell phones would be on that list, but negative. This man was quite into his conversation. I like to think he's giving or receiving guidance... that or ordering a pizza.
These are the hill tribe huts that I and my second tour group stayed in. They were up quite a ways on the mountain, but worth the hike. Simple yet beautiful in their simplicity, I was happiest while laying on the bench in the sunlight listening to the wild birds coo and caw. Another favorite spot, this was the hammock on the second floor back deck of the guest house I stayed at in Chang Mai, Thailand. I loved it. I spent only one afternoon here, but would gladly have given all my souvenirs and possessions away to spend the rest of my life here.
I snapped this without cause, but now that I look at it I quite love it. I love his face, his eyes, his patriotic pose towards the setting sun. He looks beautiful to me, and reminds me of every face I saw in Cambodia, every single beautiful face.
This boat trip was spontaneous as was this picture. I like it because it shows the stillness yet motion of life on "The Lake". The Lake- it has a name I can't remember nor pronounce- is this river/lakes that turn into one gargantuan lake in monsoon season. There's great fishing there, so hundreds and thousands of families build their houses there. In the dry season the houses are on stilts, and in the wet they float. They live a stable yet rough existence. I think it's amazing and commend them for their resolve. The kids know nothing else of course, yet still they must be tough even if born so. I like the dreams they still have, the wishes in their eyes when they look to the sun. They are the same of me and any other person. It was here that I recognized humanity.
Angkor Wat at sunrise. A beautiful morning spent watching the rising sun at one of the oldest, most well preserved temples in the world. An awe inspiring event that I have no words, nor even pictures to justify its greatness.

The Cambodian Royal Palace in Phnom Penh. It was marvelous, just like every palace I ever imagined. It's beautifully manicured lawns and old menageries of brilliant green complemented the golden exterior of the palace buildings. The designs and jeweled inlays screamed royalty more than any European building I've ever seen. To me, this was the kingdom I've dreamed. Louis XIV had no idea.

The Tea House

Once there was a tea house snuggled deep within a city called Seoul. It was a charming place filled with exotic treasures, healing herbs and the most splendid, most delicate and most delightful array of birds. A colony of birds to be exact.

Well now, to be absolutely accurate, these birds weren't simply delightful nor simply splendid nor simply delicate and beautiful, these birds were extraordinary in the fact that they too, but much more than the tea leaves, had healing powers. Some could bring happiness to the hearts of all the people in the shop with a just a slight shiver of their feathers. Others could cure colds and such illnesses with their sing-song chirp. And yet others, the very, very, very special few could heal all wounds with the giving of their feathers.

To be logical, as most people are, the birds hide their extraordinariness, and have been for ten thousand years. This way they do not draw too much publicity, and neither are they over worked. Birds get tired too you know.

Because they have been around so long they have developed a specific code amongst themselves so as to not "blow their cover", as they say. Course, I don't know the code. I'm a people. They would never tell me. But I'd guess it'd be something along the lines of 1) no talking to people, 2) no showing off before peoples, and 3) keep your feet clean and be sure to land your droppings on the tree only!

Just a guess.

Anyways, among these enchanted birds lays a discovery like no other. A find that Indiana Jones and Lara Croft would kill, butcher and enslave for. The find of, well do you know? Hint: the same birds have lived as a colony all around the world for the past ten thousand years.

They have what the Christians called the aqua de vitae, what Herodotus mentioned briefly in his histories, and what Alexander the Great supposedly journeyed to the Land of Darkness for, the Fountain of Youth.

From A to Z, to all the in between. The birds chirped all the day to bring well-being.

The trees, the wood, the mountains and springs; the small candle light's hue shone on all happy things.

Decide to be in or out they say.

I'll decide what I decide darn it.

Hm, as always I'll stay.

Far and deep into the hollowed out room,

a secret kept quiet,

awaiting just the right tune.

For how many years have people thought it the tea?!

The tea, the tea. What more could there be?

Birds do not heal. I doubt birds can feel!

Look past the tea to the treasures below. Where have the been? I'd like to know.

Keep on your guard! The black tipped bird said.

You bite that bon-bon, I might raise you from dead!

The morning sun shone on the writing wall.

It said here is where I start.

I'll grant all your wishes if you give me a part.

Out the window there's death, in there's life.

The bird stared in confusion at his cousin in flight.

It's the tea! It's the tea! I say. Nothing much more.

If birds can be healers, then I am a door!

Twas a Korean Halloween, it really was.

I wrote awhile ago about preparing for a "Korean Halloween". It was a special after school party I put together for my "special students", aka those who had been determined "gifted students" by some random test done by the school before I came. They were actually tested on their science and math skills, then using those results were picked for special after school classes ranging from math and science to English and social studies. Why the same test is used for ranging subjects is quite beyond me, but my guess is it made sense to someone 'important' and therefore was implemented without question.

Anyways, my Halloween party went spectacularly well... I think. I had spent two weeks decorating the entire classroom with monsters, skeletons, hanging bats, spider webs, and let me not forget the mural of vibrant purple velvet, paper and gargantuan proportions of tape. Yes, I may have gone a 'little' overboard. But come now, this is my first year having an ACTUAL job. This is also my first year of legitimate influence on something other than a grade or what kind of toppings you want on your burrito. I also have ridiculous amounts of time to think about such things that make no difference to the world, but make the people immediately around me quite happy (I hope.) So, yeah, I went a little nuts-o. But the way I see it is that these kids have never had a Halloween party, and only have a limited idea of what Halloween really is. So, I guess I tried to realize that for them.

So after the decorating, I began to plan the party. First we watched "The Nightmare Before Christmas" the week before the party. I had them do a matching worksheet, and made it worth so many points. Then the day of the party, which was a special two and a half hour class time (rather than the usual fifty minutes), I had them break into groups for a contest of sorts. There were four stations. The first being Halloween mask making, in which they cut out their own scary face and colored it. Second was the grand traditional Halloween festivity of bobbing for apples. Next was Halloween decoration making, in which they cut out skeleton parts and but them together with safety pins. Lastly was the bean bag game of "Feed the Monster". I made a card board monster cut out for them to toss spiderweb balls into for points.

Then after the stations, we would all get together with fifth grade versus sixth grade... a grand battle. First was the game "Spiderweb", which consisted of each team undoing the spiderweb balls from the bean bag game as fast as they could. Inside the scotch tape balls was candy, a greater incentive than points to twelve year olds. Second we played "Mummify", a game using toilet paper to wrap up a peer the fastest and best. Then after that, prizes and Dirt Worm Sundays- you know, the ice cream, ground up Oreos with gummy worms fiasco? A bit crazy for forty young kids to all want ice cream at the same time, but it worked, sort of.

By sort of I mean this was all the plan. I had told my co-teach and the head teacher two weeks before about what I intended to do. I was so excited, so thrilled to get to have a party all designed by moi. And for Halloween, too! Ah, I was ecstatic. Then the week before the whole shindig- my co tells me she can't help with the party. She has to go on a "business trip". I say ahhh okay, Ms. Lee (our head teacher and other English teacher with me) can still be there right? Oh yes, of course was the reply. So I did not worry. Monday of Halloween week my head teacher informs me that she won't be showing up until three as she too has a business meeting. Hm. Okay. Now I do worry. As I said before, these kids aren't the cream of the crop for English. Math, science- okay. Not English. And now this week I have them for an hour alone. All thirty-seven of them. My mind raced.

Wednesday came and I decided to go with it. How terrible could it be? We still needed to finish the movie we started last week. That bought me forty minutes. But the crucial need for translation was well before my head teacher could show up. So what to do? They needed to really understand the 'stations' in order for organization to triumph over a mass of pre-teens. I tried.

The head teacher did not show up until three-twenty. I stood on a chair to gain attention and hopefully order. They listened a bit, but remained full of questions, each of which was the same as the next, yet none that they would all sit and be quiet for as a whole. I was truly on my last leg when Ms. Lee arrived. Chucking spiderweb balls across the room at Feed the Monster, 'More paper! More paper!' from the decoration station, "How? Ottokae?" from the mask makers and then "Shinchong plu! Shinchong plu! from my bobbing for apples crew. Ugh, I wanted to scream and walk out. I cursed all "business trips" and "shinchong plu" (aka swine flu). I cursed my school for leaving me with these kids. I cursed my stupidity, er gullibility, at having thought this party would go as planned. I of all people should know already that nothing in Korea goes as planned, not if you're the bottom feeder that is. (Meaning the two months I waited to finally get here. Not much caring on the part of my school.) So this should not have surprised me. We didn't even finish the stations, let alone the fifth vs. sixth grade games. We had to stay an extra half hour just to dish out the ice cream in an orderly fashion. Ugh, never again. A great experience for me, yeah, but never again. I had my party and I'll actually fondly remember it. As it was fun once I threw in the towel and let them rule me.

The next week, once my co teach could attend, we played the group games separately. They had fun, and I did too, with my co-teach my by side saving my butt with every Korean word.

Below are the pics of the events. From the classroom decor to the group games to my costume as "Kiki" from the Japanese animation film Kiki's Delivery Service. Please enjoy, as it was quite a lot in the making! ^^

Ah Minsu- always the ham.

The kid on the left is not so great of student, and as you can see not too thrilled about the activity whether fun or not. Have a theory that he's an old crabby man inside a twelve year old. So far my theory has yet to be disproved.

"I'm a mummy!!!!!"

The sixth grade.

The fifth grade results. I enjoyed the creativity of the second one in- with the roll on the head? Priceless.

Minsu again, terrible student, but funny kid - so 'hearta'.

Above the door of our classroom.

My work of art- tree and owl.

The mural. Had WAY too much fun making this!

Jjimjibang Reprise

If you don't remember it, I wrote a post last June or so about my first experience in the jjimjibang, the mother of all the saunas in the world. In this place there is no room for modesty or fear, there is only room for more and more naked, saggy women. They lounge about as if they were forgotten goddesses, their beauty finally catching up with their age though ambivalent to the entire process and thus fully and proudly exposed to the elements of the near boiling water and steamed and pressed air. They are fearless, they are Korean ajumas.

Also, if you don't remember it, I was too timid to bare myself. I ran to the bathroom, eyes glued to the floor, changed, and ran back. My eyes leaving the pink tiles only once to catch a glimpse of a rather aged body, I believe I compared it to a fruit dried too long in the sun? If not, that is the description I would give it now as now I have seen more than my share of saggy tushes to last a lifetime!

Yesterday, I went with my co-teacher and her friends to an animal shelter some two hours away. It was in the middle of the mountains, south of Suwon. A curvy ride and me on little sleep (again only two hours!), I was near retching when the vehicle stopped. However, getting out of the vehicle I heard the barks of 75 pouches all wanting love from me and group. I perked up for the next four hours as we petted, walked and played with the dogs and then kitties. (I now have a hundred new friends! Love puppy and kitty love ^^ NOT bunny.) Anyways, it was a pretty well spent day even though my ass was definitely still in bed in my head. I was happy with the concept of home with a bath and bed. But, as we all filed back into the vehicle, my co-teacher chirps a kind reminder to me that I had said a couple days prior that I would be willing to go to a jjimjibang. Ah! Thank you co-teach, I had almost thought I was in the clear, off foreign person duty and headed for the four walls I've grown to love.

It was another two hours to our jjimjibang of choice, the most famous one in Korea, known for its popularity during the Joseong Dynasty (some two hundred years prior.) Now, there stands a number of jjimjibangs, norae bangs (karaoke rooms), PC bangs and new subway line stop to bring it ever more popularity.

I napped in the car, or shall I say passed out? We finally arrived their at 7 PM, a time I would not have minded going to bed. But as it was, I was expected to be company, so company I was.

We walked into the jjimjibang, my mind floating between real time and my bed back home. As real time was about to get awkward, I was mainly in my bed already. I didn't even notice them pay or give me the key to my locker. I just followed like the good puppy I am, opening my locker for my shoes with the attention of a ferret. I followed in the line as we went into the women jjimjibang area through a number of doorways and corridors. I was about to continue following in my stupor until we actually crossed the threshold into the abyss of ajuma flesh.

Can I say that six months ago, when I first went to a jjimjibang, I was not prepared, I was still learning Korean culture and so definitely couldn't understand it thus look at it? I was simply ignorant, and kind of happy to be. I did not see myself stripping down with only a two foot towel to cover my extremities. I also did not see myself taking a shower and chatting with my neighbor borrowing their soap in passing.

Now, I can safely say that I am a changed person. I have to be, or else maybe I was just that tired and out of it to be utterly impartial to the whole experience. But in the hindsight I have of it, I was pretty darn okay with everything. I, with my co-teacher and her life long friends (a very, very, very close bond here!), casually got down to our nothings. Then we casually walked to the showers, past the ajumas staring ever so blatantly at the foreigner with their grandchildren sometimes pointing and saying 'waygook saram!' (foreign person!). Then we casually took a hot shower in an almost humorous line. Three long-haired, young, shapeless Korean women and a curvy, short-haired teenager looking foreigner with jewelry and a tattoo to top. I did not look, but I am certain that every person in that shower room (and it is a big room with many, many people) stole a glance or a stare nearly fifty times. I could see the turned heads out of the corners of my eyes and feel the heat of the ajuma mind on my back. I am actually quite glad I was so out of it, that situation sounds extremely awkward now that I type it!

A ten minute shower and a pink jjimjibang uniform later, we went into the common sleeping area dry and finally covered. From then on things went a tad better. We played Rummikub and I got my butt waxed. Then a Korean card game based on numbers (thus I could play- I actually am good at numbers in Korean!) though still got my butt waxed. I was quite awake and enjoying myself until one of the girls boyfriends bought us each a cheap beer called Max. It is just one of the terrible Korean beers, but I drank it out of politeness. Bad idea. When finished I was near sleep walking. It was now 10:30 at night, my adrenaline extinguished and my eyes dry from no sleep and two days of constant contact wearing. I passed out on the sad excuse for a sleeping pad, the plastic etching lines in my face with every minute of deeper and deeper sleep. Finally off to never land.

It was the next morning at 6 AM when my dreams of beds and pillows were interrupted by the poke of co-teacher saying, "Jenna, let's go!" Again, I was extremely exhausted, and could not figure out why we were getting up at 6 in the morning on a Sunday. I went back to my safe house of following the group. Into the women's area, to the locker and back to... low and behold the replayed casual shower of the previous night. This time though, my mind was a bit more alert as it had had a few more hours of sleep to rejuvenate itself. Thus, I glanced around, took in the scene and the actual shower and bath facilities. There were three separate bathing areas. Two in the middle of the room, the ceiling low. Their temperatures displayed on the columns framing them. There were a couple ajumas bathing, the early morning hours no doubt an unpopular time to take a hot bath with your friends. (The previous night there were near sixty women!) To the back left of the room there was another hotter bath, elevated to overlook the entire shower room. Perhaps where the queens went? To the back right were the sitting showers, the area to shave your legs or sponge bathe your friends and family; your choice! Then there was the corner I was in to the immediate right of the entrance. Six showers lined the wall in display form. So as when you turned towards the shower, your butt was exposed to the entire room, and vice versa when turned around. Meaning, there was no hiding. Thankfully, shiny metal made up the shower structure on the wall. A handy dandy mirror to see who was checking out your ass. I was able to catch a couple ajumas and frown at them for their immodest blatancy. (I realize I'm strange looking to them, but I think it should be made a universal code to not stare at people (especially strangers) when they are naked!)

This time I did not wait for my comrades, and ran out in five minutes. I was clothed and waiting patiently for ten minutes.

So, in sum of my jjimjibang experiences, I think I get a gold star for improved performance and a silver star for improved understanding (I was still a bit tweaked though ambivalent). I think I have if anything definitely segued into understanding the Korean way of life. The jjimjibang, as weird as it is for the Westerner, is not actually that weird. It was actually, in hindsight, rather comforting. Meaning, though gawked at like a zoo animal, I still felt strangely united. I felt like I was apart of something greater? Say humanity in its most basic form? Like a brotherhood, the experience was bonding and now everlasting. I will forever be friends with my co-teacher, and consequently her life-long friends. Perhaps it was a test? Maybe my co-teach and her friends have a gang, and I'm now a member? I think in some way that's correct. Except, I'm not just in their gang, I feel I've joined a bit to the Korean gang over all. Scary, I know. But I strangely understand them ever more so now that I've showered with them, as I have drank with them, and as I have slept on cement floors with them.

Conversely, I don't know if I could do this with my foreign friends. It's just a bit too much just yet. (Though, my best and life long friend Amy did actually go to a jjimjibang that was empty but for two ajumas a month ago. I don't really count that as real jjimjibang, as there were just four eyes on us, not 100!) We did okay because we are like sisters. And now, I guess we are certainly kin!

But this experience was the first and most impressing one I've had of the Korean jjimjibang. My co-teacher was the cherry on top of the hundreds of eyes! I cannot regret it as I've learned more about Korea in those ten minutes than I have in the past seven months! I can't explain the bond that was created. I can feel it. I can remember it. Yet, I feel this blog is non-explanatory. I guess, though my eyes burned a little with the sag of ajuma extremities and my conscience questioning my place in the Korean world, my heart conversely felt more humane than ever. The jjimjibang reprise was thus, in my burning eyes, a great and too long put-off experience.