We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Most people find themselves inside a church building on Christmas Eve. I, on the other hand, found myself inside a No Rae Bang (karaoke room) this year. I was scheduled to teach on Christmas Eve, but only about five students in the whole academy showed up, so we all (students, teachers, etc.) went to the No Rae Bang and sang every English Christmas carol on the list of available songs. But after an hour and a half of craziness, we finally broke out of the Christmas genre and started singing this song:

Politics

Apparently, life has been exciting in the Korean government lately! I heard about this situation from my students this morning. Check it out: Korean Politicians in Massive Brawl

Kimchi Party

You know, I have to pat myself on the back every once in awhile because I am now able to successfully (and voluntarily!) eat kimchi. As a person who dislikes pickled food in general, this is quite the feat for me. I even had kimchi for breakfast this morning with my roommate!

Last Friday the teachers and staff at my school had a kimchi-making party. It was quite the experience. I knew there were a lot of ingredients, but there were some things I wasn't expecting--like the pickled shrimp, for instance. :) There was also garlic, red pepper powder (in bulk), onion, green onion, radish, some special sauce, another vegetable I don't know the English name for, and a few other nameless things in English.

First you mix these ingredients together to create a paste. Then you spread the paste on some already pickled/fermented cabbages. The most important part of this process is wearing hot pink gloves! :) Anyway, here's a visual for how the creation of this Korean delicacy comes about:

Variations on the Ajumma

I have a secret confession to make. I am an ajumma stalker. Well...that is to say, I am sometimes an ajumma stalker...I mean, rarely an ajumma stalker...ah-hem, what I mean to say is that ajummas can be scary—intriguing, yet very scary. So I keep my distance, even while stalking.

I like to people-watch. Humans in general are simply rather odd creatures, and I think you can gather a good deal of insight into humanity when you merely sit down for an hour or so and watch.

That's how it happened that I became an ajumma stalker and gathered some insight into their world yesterday. I went to the lake near my house where all of the ajummas go power walking. There's a flat rock at the top of some stone stairs above the walking path, so I positioned myself there and tried to be inconspicuous with my brown hair and white skin. Here's what I saw...

Korean SAT

Yesterday was Korean SAT day. It's an interesting day, to say the least. And from what I can tell, it's also full of theatrics... :)

Pepero Day

Tuesday was Pepero Day. Pepero is a cookie that's kind of like a thin non-salty pretzel stick with chocolate coating. You can buy many different varieties of Pepero. There's Pepero with only chocolate, Pepero with chocolate and nuts, big Pepero, mini Pepero, Pepero in special gift boxes—and you can even buy “naked” Pepero (the kind with chocolate in a hollow center)!

Pepero Day is always November 11. That's because the date 11/11 looks like a row of Pepero sticks. The tradition is to buy a bunch of Pepero and then exchange it with your friends. It is also common to give it out at school—at least schools which haven't outlawed the exchange.

The sad part about teaching adults, though, is that they don't usually get into Pepero Day quite as much. Therefore, the chances of obtaining at lot of Pepero at an institute for adults is rather low. I was optimistic, however, because one of my students brought me some Pepero on November 10, and we had a kind of pre-Pepero Day celebration together. But on the actual holiday, no one gave me anything! I don't like to think that I'm selfish (or addicted to chocolate), but it was really quite sad. (Of course, I didn't give out any either, so everyone remains even!) As a result, I was forced to eat the Pepero that other teachers received—which coincidentally, was more than enough to go around.

Now, obviously, Pepero Day is a commercial holiday created by the Pepero company for one sole purpose: to sell more Pepero. And on principle, I don't usually support the commercialism that surrounds holidays, but I feel that Pepero Day may be a little special. I mean, it's all about Pepero! And when in Korea, do as the Koreans do... :)

Challenges

My life in Seoul is challenging. And I hope that's not an understatement...or melodramatic. Life is always difficult, but recently I don't feel like I'm climbing uphill anymore. It's more like the hill has shot up into a steep 180 degree angle from the place where I started. And instead of climbing, I find myself just holding on for dear life sometimes, letting my fingernails sink into the dirt, and praying I don't accidentally slip off.

In Japan this July, my friend Shihoko made me a traditional wall hanging. I put it on the wall of my bedroom next to my clothes rack. It reminds me of my life. I wish I could hang it up next to me on this metaphorical hill I'm dangling from, too. Anyway, here is what is written right to left in vertical calligraphy (Japanese style):

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. ~Proverbs 3:5-6

I'm trying...so hard...

Of Teaching...and Craziness!

Teaching English is an interesting experience. It puts me into a small room with several students and demands that we speak together. We are not allowed to stare. We must talk. And the more diverse the people in that room are, the better.

The simple fact of the matter is that they're not usually normal—and I mean that in a completely complimentary way! In fact, I'd be disappointed if my students were normal. (Besides, I suppose I'm not entirely normal either. But that fact should remain off the record...haha! And as cliché as the question may sound, I must ask: what is normalcy anyway?)

My favorite people in Korea are the most “abnormal” ones. They are the ones who force me to inwardly laugh and outwardly look pensive and say, “Hmmm...that's an interesting point. Tell me more.” When I write my New York Times bestseller someday, these people will be main characters in my novel. Here is one such example:

Mr. Lee is a retired professor of ag engineering and one of my favorite students of all time. I tried to call him by his first name, but I simply couldn't make myself do it. I think that when he was born, his mother must have called him Mister. His personality just commands respect like that; there's no way of avoiding it.

Mr. Lee sounds like an encyclopedia when he talks. For real. I don't know many people who share such a fondness for multisyllabic words. It is rare to come across a person who can truly sound 100% intelligent in a second language, and it is even more rare to come across a person who sounds 100% intelligent and can lecture about any subject at the drop of a hat. That is Mr. Lee. I know he is preparing to “lecture” when he squints his eyes and starts to rub his thumbs together in a circular pattern. In fact, I have learned a great deal about wetland ecosystems and rice paddy fields from him. The only topic he finds confusing to discuss is the non-scientific topic of love. His recent comment to me regarding love went something like this: “I am not sure what to say. One must commonly think rationally about life, but it seems as if such an approach cannot be applied to this topic.”

I am convinced that I ought to just let him teach the class. That way I could start sleeping in in the mornings. :)

Changdeokung

I toured Changdeokung Sunday afternoon and walked through the secret gardens there. It was beautiful with all of the leaves changing colors.

Some Days Life is Just a Copier...

The copy machine jammed four times today (twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon) as I was trying to copy student evaluation forms. And what can I say? I feel that life is like that sometimes. Things get jammed. Or constipated. (Or some other equally annoying metaphor.)

Sometimes I wish life would simply go smoothly without interruptions, even if it does sound idealistic of me. It'd be nice if I could get caught up with work for once. Or if the Korean words I know would miraculously form themselves into complete sentences. Or if I could reach the “amen” part of prayer before I fall asleep at night. Or even if I could just finish one measly blog entry...

Busan

My co-workers and I went on a staff retreat to Busan a little over a week ago. Busan is the second-largest city in Korea located on the southern tip of the peninsula. In some places on a clear day, you can see all the way to Japan. Pretty amazing, huh?

Our trip was short (just a long weekend), and I was pretty well exhausted throughout most of it--and for the whole next week! (We drove through the night to get there, arrived at 6am, and I'd only managed to sleep about 5-10 minutes.) But Busan was beautiful, nevertheless.

We sat on the beach, walked through the fish market, were interviewed for TV during an international film festival, and caught glimpses of a few Korean heartthrob movie stars.

Sometimes I think it's too bad that I'm not working in Busan instead of Seoul. I kind of like the coast. There's a little more room to breathe there. And like I said earlier (or meant to say), there's only about 4-5 million people (about 1/5 the size of the Seoul metropolitan area). I won't even calculate how many of my hometowns could fit into that size! :)

My Desk

My desk is currently the most organized it's ever been in my entire life, so for whatever reason, I feel compelled to share it with everyone. Believe it or not, I even organized my lesson plans and alphabetized my class material binders. As a normally not-so-organized person, this is quite the feat. I am very proud (even though pride may be a sin). :) Soooo...that being said, here is my office work space!

Oh, Ajumma... :)

This afternoon I went for a walk around a small lake just a few bus stops away from my apartment. It's a twin lake, actually, with red paths around it and bright orange carp under the water. I like this place a lot. There are a few willow trees and marigolds, and it's nice to be reminded that nature still exists even in the middle of a concrete city. In fact, this lake seems to be a favorite place for more than just me. It attracts about three different kinds of people: starry-eyed couples, ajummas, and me.

Couples are common enough. Everyone knows they can be a beautiful nuisance. They hold hands and gaze into each others' eyes and sometimes even make out behind trees when no one is looking—yes, even in this culture where PDA is somewhat taboo. (It's possible that I may also frown a bit about kissing in public, especially since my other half is currently halfway around the world...but that's neither here nor there.)

Ajummas, on the other hand, are unique to Korea, I think. They are very special in the world. My roommate explained it to me this way: “Alice,” she said, “there are three different sexes in Korea: men, women, and ajummas.”

Simply put, “ajumma” is the term for middle-aged mothers. They perm their hair and walk around in special hiking clothes and aren't scared of a single blessed soul. (An ajumma once told me that after you've given birth, there's nothing left for you to be afraid of.) They also wear visors—big visors. I saw an ajumma today with one pulled way down over her nose, and I couldn't distinguish anything from her hairline to her chin. It reminded me a bit of Star Wars...or perhaps Transformers. (I heard once that the reason ajummas wear visors is because they don't want to get sunburned; however, I can't help but wonder if it's because they are really part of the Mafia and don't want anyone to see their faces.)

Either way, it's best to use caution when close to an ajumma. (I've heard that ajummas can make some pretty crazy mothers...but that's just hearsay, of course.) They can be especially “dangerous” on a the subway. Just the other day, as I was turning around to sit in a seat, an ajumma suddenly ran toward me. She threw her purse onto the seat before I could even fully rotate to notice what had happened. She then proceeded to slide under my arm and set herself comfortably down. So I smiled and let her sit there. Like I said, ajummas aren't afraid of anything. And I'm secretly convinced that they run this country. :)

English Education (Cultural Negotiations: Part 2)

Koreans are crazy about English. That much is for sure. Everywhere you look in Seoul, there's an advertisement for an English institute. Or there's a person handing out a brochure for one.

One time I was sitting on a park bench reading a book when a man came up to me, said “bonjour,” and calmly put a brochure for an English institute on the empty spot next to me. (He must have had the delayed realization that I was reading an English—not French—novel because he later came back and tried to speak English with me.)

I don't understand this second-language obsession. I know English can be useful in business and travel and potentially other areas of life, but I still don't understand. With all of the intense competition that goes on here, it seems to me that English education is doing little but widening the social gap in Korea.

Students in Korea start learning English when they are in middle school. On average, most people study English for at least ten years of their life. But in recent years, the ways that they study English have changed. And children are starting to learn when they are younger and younger. I recently heard about an English-speaking kindergarten that costs $800/month in Seoul. And you know what's crazy? Many parents actually pay to send their children there.

One of the things that surprised me most is that there are no failed grades in Korea. No matter a child's academic ability, they never have to repeat a grade. So there's usually a wide range of students in one grade. But, nevertheless, 97% of them manage to graduate from high school. And I recently learned that the amount of Koreans who participate in higher education has soared. In 1960 there were 100,000 who studied at a university. By 1987 there were 1.3 million. Wow.

The emphasis on education continues to increase as competition to get a job increases. In a crowded place like this, there are more people than jobs, especially since many women have started working in the last 50 years, as well. So, to put it mildly, parents tend to freak out about their kids' futures.

In Korea, a diploma and high test scores are seemingly synonymous with the ability to work, so education is seen as a way (often the only way) to get a chance for a good job. Because of some of the problems in the public school system, most parents trust private institutes (hogwans) more than public schools, and it's become common for children to go to their regular school and then attend hogwans before and/or after. Lots of students go to school in the morning and don't come home until 10 o'clock at night. (Korean public schools also require attendance every other Saturday.)

Families sacrifice huge amounts of money to give their children these extra educational opportunities. Some parents have been known to spend up to 80% of their earnings on this kind of private education. And I've heard some people say that this is part of the reason that Korea's economy has grown so quickly. Other parents (the rich ones) send their children abroad to study in an English-speaking country. (But, of course, that can have cause some problems, too, especially when the kids come back and find themselves torn between two cultures.)

What astounds me is that Korea spends the highest amount of money on English education in all of Asia, yet they have some of the lowest English scores on international exams (i.e. TOEIC, TOEFL, etc.). It all just seems so bizarre. I'm not usually one to base a person's ability on a test score, but this just floors me.

And I struggle with this issue. What do you do if your parents are poor and can't afford hogwans? What do you do if you're a parent and feel constant pressure from other parents to send your kids there? Even though I teach adults, I feel like the social gap remains the same. And I reinforce the system, even though my hogwan is different from most hogwans.

Yes, I have unique opportunities to share with them. Yes, I learn a lot from them. Yes, I enjoy teaching adults who are eager to learn. However, I can't help but cringe when I think of how many of my students take the knowledge I give them with the simple notion that they'll apply it towards selfish ambitions, such as getting a better-paying job, a promotion, or a higher social status. Not everybody does that, but many do.

I want to challenge a system and way of thinking that seems flawed on so many levels, yet I am often unsure of how to do that. I want to tell them that English is a beautiful language that they can use to express themselves and talk to others and learn about people from all over the world. It's not just a tool for personal advancement. And quite frankly, why is it so important in a country where English isn't even the main language anyway? So I suppose this is Part 2 of my cultural negotiations. “Okay, Korean education system, let's have a chat...”

Tradition

I visited Gyeongbokgung with Rosemary a couple weekends ago during the Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) holiday. There were lots of traditional performances, including...

Homesickness

One of my good friends once said something very simple yet very true. "Alice," he said, "people always want what they can't have." It's funny how those words have stuck to me like parasites for the last few days. I don't usually completely realize what I want from the U.S. when I'm in another country. But then if I come in contact with something trivial that reminds me of home, I'm hit with homesickness all over again.

That happened to me recently when I visited my friend Rosemary. She is a Korean (from Seoul) whom I met in the U.S. when she studied there for a year. We decided to hang out for awhile last Saturday, and in the evening I went back to her house for dinner with her family. All I had to do was walk through the door, and I suddenly began thinking with exclamation points. The conversation inside my head started off something like this: "There is sanity in the midst of chaos! There is some peace in Seoul!" The exclamation marks just continued...

Their house was set up western style. First of all, it was an actual house, rather than a huge apartment building. Secondly, there were chairs around a dining room table! (The closest thing we have to a chair in my apartment is the piano bench--it's pretty typical for Koreans to sit on the floor.) Rosemary's family also had beds, not just pads and blankets on the floor, which is traditional Korean style.

And then, the climax came--there was a bathmat on the bathroom floor! It's odd to think that such a small thing can make such a big impression, but I must be honest--it was the bathmat that made me feel homesick. Most Koreans don't use a shower curtain or have a bathtub, so there is always water everywhere (hence, no bathmat).

This wet bathroom mentality is a cultural nuance I don't quite understand. It's convenient to not have to worry about making a mess, but the whole idea of allowing water to spray all over the bathroom just seems so bizarre at times. It means you have to walk through puddles for the next few hours or until the water evaporates--whichever comes first!

At my apartment we have a tub and shower curtain, which is a little unusual because many Korean homes only have a hand shower over a drain in the middle of the room. However, I don't think my roommate actually uses the shower curtain, because whenever I go into the bathroom after her, there is water everywhere—-sink, toilet, door. It's a little crazy!

And so my homesickness was perpetuated by the presence of a bathmat on Rosemary's bathroom floor. Perhaps I sound melodramatic--or whiny--but it nearly brought tears to my eyes. I know what I want but can't have: American--style dry bathrooms!

Cultural Surprises

It is a truth universally known that if you travel abroad long enough, you will discover some unusual things which are normally hidden to the rest of the world. To put it bluntly, the rest of the world is simply ignorant. Travel and life in Korea is no exception, I think. And what I have discovered here has surprised me sometimes—and also made me practically double over laughing on occasion.

I must add this disclaimer, though: the things which surprise me likely only surprise me because I see them from a western American-centered perspective. If I were Asian, they would probably not be so surprising. And if I were Korean, then they would probably even seem normal. But because I'm American, some of the ideas I encounter just seem bizarre.

For example, Koreans tell me it is not safe to hike in a t-shirt. A t-shirt traps too much sweat and might cause you to get hypothermia. Never mind that t-shirts are made of lightweight cotton material. You may die anyway. (For real!—I learned this first-hand when I made the mistake of hiking in a t-shirt...the fact that I've lived to tell about my experience may be nothing short of amazing!)

Also, it is not good to sit on the ground outside. You might accidentally sit in “rat poop,” and then get a disease, and then eventually die. That's why everyone here takes a plastic mat with them every time they might have to sit on the ground. They don't want to die because of what might be lurking in the grass.

There are also various other random health-related thoughts. For example, some believe that eating dog meat in summer will keep you healthy. (However, I believe that this idea is starting to die out, as not so many people enjoy eating dog meat these days.)

But perhaps the most interesting idea that I've come across is that of fan death. This is a topic which has received considerable Korean media coverage within the past few years. And believe it or not, the majority of Korean people believe in it. Fan death is as simple as this: if you leave your fan on overnight while you are sleeping, you may die. I've heard various reasons for this assumption. Some say that it sucks all the oxygen out of the room. Others say that it causes your body temperature to drop too far. I'm not sure what the scientific explanation is. But I was sure surprised when my normally easygoing roommate strongly forbid me to leave my fan on at night. (However, she later told me that it's okay as long as the window is open, too.) Apparently, there have been several unexplained sudden deaths in Korea—and the thing that they all had in common? Yup, fans in the room.

So living overseas has some interesting surprises. Just as soon as I think I understand most of the culture, something strange jumps out of the corners and leaps into my path. But it keeps life interesting, I guess.

Korea Countdown: 40 weeks

I have 40 weeks left in my teaching contract. That's 40 weeks in Korea, 40 weeks to eat rice and kimchi, and 40 weeks to fight my way onto the subway after work at night.

Wow. I have no other word to describe my feeling.

I recently told Karen (another teacher) about my countdown. She pondered the thought for a moment and said, "You know, Alice, 40 is a pretty symbolic number."

Hmmm... That's true. Jesus was tempted in the desert for 40 days. It rained for 40 days and 40 nights. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. It seems to me that nothing easy happens in sets of 40. I told Karen that. She just smiled one of her patient smiles and said, "But I think your 40 weeks will be good."

Well, I didn't say anything about them being not good. I just said they won't be easy.

It's kind of like kimchi. Quite honestly, there's nothing pleasant about 40 more weeks of kimchi. But if kimchi is as healthy as they say, I'll be in the best shape of my life by the time I leave!

Identity Crisis?

Today is my birthday. Well, my American birthday according to the solar calendar, at least.

Actually, it's easy to get confused about my age here. Yesterday I was 22 (American age) and 24 (Korean age). Today I am 23 (American age), but still 24 (Korean age). Confused yet?

Here is how the Korean age system works:
You are 1 year old when you are born. Then on January 1, everyone turns another year older. So, for example, if you are born on December 31, you are 1 year old. Then the next day you become 2 years old. Interesting, huh? So on January 1, I will become 25 (Korean age), but still remain 23 (American age).

To be quite honest, I'm never really quite sure how old I am. I have to think for a moment before I tell anyone my age. And now that I think about it, I won't actually turn 23 for another couple of hours due to the time difference. (I was born at 8am, which is 10pm here.)

Hmmm...perhaps I am having an identity crisis. I'm simultaneously two different ages. I'm not always sure I can handle it. But at least I remain in the double digits.

And if I decide to be my Korean age, then I will decrease in age when I return to the U.S. Hmmm...I guess that's not all bad!

Cultural Negotiation

I have been in Korea long enough to pass the honeymoon phase of cultural adjustment. I simply don't notice the bright lights anymore. And more than that, I have come to realize that there are some things I seriously dislike about this culture--like crowded subways and exorbitant coffee prices, for instance! And on a deeper level, I hate indirect communication and "saving face" and unsolicited advice and the focus on personal appearance.

I know I sound judgmental, but I struggle to express my observations in any other way. Someone told me this is the negotiation phase of my culture shock. It's the time for nitty-gritty conversation with the culture about its values and methods and seemingly incoherent ways of dealing with the world. It's time for me to tell the culture that even though I understand on one level, I cannot bring myself to the level of understanding that leads me to adopt many of its ways. And I must tell it that there are some things which absolutely disgust me.

For instance, 61.5% of all Korean women between 25 and 29 have had some kind of plastic surgery. Advertisements for beauty products flood the streets. Parents offer plastic surgery to their high school children as graduation gifts. Women go on crash diets all the time, but people rarely talk about eating disorders or emotional disorders. Businesses can refuse to hire based on appearance, and everyone who applies for a job has to attach a picture to their resume.

And I don't understand why when there is a conflict, it's not polite to talk to a person directly. A third person is always the go-between.

And I don't understand "noon chee," this mind-reading ability you are supposed to have to allow you to know what other people are feeling without asking them.

And I don't know why middle-aged married women seem to feel they are free to offer unsolicited advice (criticism, according to American perspectives) to anyone they want.

But somewhere along the line last week, I realized something important, something that might help me through this cultural negotiation. In America, there are many different ways to do things and seemingly as many different standards as there are stars. (And of course, that causes many problems in its own right.) But in Korea, there is only the right way and the wrong way. Double eyelids and a big nose are beautiful. Single eyelids and a flat nose are not. Period. No questions asked.

I am deeply saddened by some things I see in this culture. I am deeply frustrated by others. And despite all these, there are some things I have learned to like and appreciate.

So here's the beginning of my negotiation conversation with Korean culture. We'll wait and see what we can work out...

My Strange Subway Encounter

The other night, as I was in the subway station waiting for my train to come, a man came up to me, looked me in the eye, and in distinct English loudly said, "Sixteen years I almost die." He repeated this about five or six more times before I realized he simply wasn't going to let me ignore him. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was going to ask me for money or some kind of favor.

"You almost died 16 years ago?" I repeated his statement in question form.

The man smiled widely, showing his ghastly crooked teeth, and began to tell me about how Jesus saved his life 16 years ago. He talked about humans and God and then stuck his palm in front of my face and started to trace Chinese characters on it, explaining to me how the symbol for "God" contains a bent line for Adam's rib. (Or something like that...) It was quite odd.

But I wonder what the world would be like if all Christians shared the same shameless faith as this man. What if we all started walking up to strangers in the train stations just to say, "Look at me--I'm a miracle!" What if we couldn't contain our enthusiasm?

The man stayed on the platform as I got onto the train, and behind me I could hear him belting out a loud stream of "hallelujahs." It was strange, to be sure. (And I'm personally convinced that he must have been at least a little drunk.) But I was laughing inside and couldn't help but wonder "What if..."

Japan Interlude

I spent last week in Tokyo, Japan. I stayed with Shihoko, one of my good friends from GC, and also visited Takahiro, a friend that I know from the U of I. The week involved eating, sleeping, sight-seeing, and the head of an 87-kilo tuna. But perhaps that's another story. :)

God knew that I needed this vacation. My days at school have been long, and culture shock has been doing a fair job of torturing me lately. And my trip to Tokyo couldn't have come at a better time.

I could wax eloquent, but I'll try to make a long story short. I love Japan. It is a beautiful country with culturally-rich traditions and interesting lifestyles. I want to visit again. This afternoon, if possible. :)

In a way, I suppose I had an American experience in Tokyo. I spent my days hanging out with Japanese friends I met in America and American students I met in Japan. Shihoko's family is hosting a group of Wheaton College students (math majors) for part of the summer, so we hung out together a lot.

They're interesting personalities, to be sure. Some Koreans I know would probably say that they have type AB blood. Type AB blood makes you either genius or crazy or both! But I like geniuses and crazy people. They keep life exciting.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was attending a traditional tea ceremony. Japanese tea houses have a small door close to the ground. Regardless of your size, you have to bend down to get through the door. Everyone who enters the tea room becomes the same height. They become equal. I like that. For a moment, you can eat sweet red bean desserts and drink bitter green tea and embrace these aspects of life without fighting for status or position.

The tea room is a good place, I think. I wish the rest of the world were like that. And I wish Korea were like that, too. A little less competition could go a long way.

Public Transportation

There is a joke that goes something like this:
A pastor dies and goes to heaven, where God rewards him by giving him a small mansion. At the same time, a bus driver dies and gets a huge mansion with all the trimmings. The pastor decides to take up this issue with St. Peter. He asks, "Why does the bus driver get a bigger mansion than me?" St. Peter replies, "It's simple. When you preached, people slept. When the bus driver drove, people prayed!"

Bus drivers in Seoul should get large mansions, I think. Their driving undoubtedly makes people think about eternity. The fact that I remain alive after riding the bus means that there is a small miracle each day. I once asked one of my Korean friends why the bus drivers drove so fast. People have to hang on for dear life, and more than once, I've seen someone trip and fall down (however, that could be as much due to the high heels that all women wear as to the speed of the bus). My Korean friend told me that people would get mad if the buses went any slower. At first, I was incredulous, but oddly enough, her answer almost makes sense. "Fast, fast!" was one of the first phrases I learned in Korean.

Subways are equally interesting experiences. The ride is much smoother, but more crowded. I used to think that "packed like sardines in a can" was just a worn-out cliche. Now I can honestly say that I fully comprehend the predicament of the sardines. I travel to and from work on one of the most-traveled subway lines in Seoul. My transfer to bus for the last part of my commute is--believe it or not!--a relief in comparison.

Someone told me that there used to be a "push man" for the subway. The push man would stand at the door and shove as many people into the subway car as he possibly could. But the people in Seoul don't need a push man anymore. They just push themselves. Shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose, and you just hope your hand doesn't accidentally touch someone in the wrong place!

Public transportation is an adventure. It makes me miss the miles of wide highway in between cornfields. And it makes me miss the country roads even more. And I won't ever complain about getting stuck behind a tractor or buggy again!

"A Cup of Relief"

Here is something I read recently. It struck a chord with me.

The truth is, it's impossible to be discouraged unless I've decided what's best for me. It's impossible for me to fear the coming day unless I'm determined to manage every detail, each step along the way, on my own. It's impossible for me to worry unless I've decided what the outcome needs to be.

What a relief to know that I'm free to simply follow Jesus. "The mind of a man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps" (Proverbs 16:9).

-from 101 Cups of Water by C.D. Baker.

Grace-Filled Moments

I have finally achieved celebrity status. Consider my childhood dream accomplished. However, it has not been because of anything I have done.

I am a tall, white, English-speaking person of European descent. That makes me stick out. Children point and whisper at me as I ride the subway. And if I open a map to make sure that I am at the right station, someone will offer to assist me in less than five seconds. I am 1 of 22 million Seoul residents, yet random people on the street stop to make small talk with me. Sometimes they take my picture. Sometimes they ask for my phone number. And sometimes they start to tell me their life stories. The other day a little girl even leaned out of a car window to wave and yell "hi" as I walked past on the sidewalk.

But my favorite celebrity story is about the time I was waiting for the elevator inside Soon Jae's apartment building. Another person was also waiting, and he suddenly decided to start talking to me. His English wasn't very good, and he surprised me as he asked if I like potatoes. I thought he was simply struggling to make conversation, so I smiled and said "yes." That's when he reached into his bag and pulled out a potato to give to me! I was so shocked that I forgot to receive it with two hands, which is the polite thing to do in Korean culture. But he didn't seem to mind too much. I put the potato on the kitchen table when I got upstairs, and the next morning Soon Jae asked me if I had a craving for potatoes.

Sometimes it's annoying to be such a celebrity here. Foreign = famous, I guess. And there are times when I just want to blend into the crowd. It's easier to go quietly along and not have to put any energy into others. But someone recently told me I should take these moments as they come and recognize them for the grace they bring into my life. These awkward conversations are moments of welcome, and this wide-eyed curiosity is an opening for me to share. Uninvited interruptions will inevitably happen, but it does not have to follow that they must be unwelcome. So I will try to welcome them. There is enough grace to help me, I think.

The Biggest Church in the World

Yoido Full Gospel Fellowship is the biggest church in the world. It has over 837,000 members--that's about 200 times the size of my entire hometown, give or take a few hundred! The church building alone takes up a whole city block. Police direct traffic around the building. And when I visited the church last Sunday, I had to arrive about 1/2 hour early just to be guaranteed a seat in the auditorium. There's a special foreigners section for those who are not Korean, and depending on the service (there are 7 per Sunday), you can choose to listen to headsets with translations in nine different languages.

But in my own opinion, the best part about sitting in the foreigners section was the usher who walked up and down the aisles with a sign on a long pole which read "NO PHOTOGRAPHY PLEASE." It may be wrong of me, but at the moment I first saw him, I desperately wanted to take a picture. The church building didn't interest me that much; I just wanted a photograph of the man with that sign!

Yoido is an interesting church. I'm not sure I can quite wrap my brain around it. Imagine church as a sporting event, and you might be able to more accurately describe the experience. TV cameras everywhere, big screens showing the televised worship service, loud applause, ushers in uniform, color-coordinated worship leaders, and...a symphony orchestra!

I wonder if this is what the Hebrews author meant when he talked about "not forsaking our own assembling together...but encouraging one another." Somehow I'm not quite sure it is. I may perhaps have some personal issues with this church's theological assertions and its self-presentation/outreach style, but there's still the nagging voice in the back of my head that tells me this church is about as far away from the early church as it could possibly be.

God uses all different kinds of churches to do his work. That much is for sure. But I wonder about the institutionalization of church and how it affects the way that people perceive God. It makes God seem like a CEO, I think. Or perhaps more like a a government leader. Either way, a little less than accessible by the common human...

I suppose that makes me wonder about what God's church should look like. What does it mean to "assemble together"? And what does it look like when "assemble" and "encourage" intermix?

Dr. Fish

I absolutely defy you to try to tickle my feet when I get back! They are no longer ticklish. I have mastered my ticklishness! Hehe...

I took a drastic step forward a few weekends ago. I went to Dr. Fish. {gasp!} That means that I stuck my feet in a tub with a bunch of baby piranhas. This foot treatment is from Mongolia. It's supposed to be really good for your health. (Koreans are more than crazy about health!) I guess the fish eat the dead skin or something... Anyway, it tickles! Ahhhh! The worst part is when they get between your toes and start to chew. {shudder}

However, what's really funny is that Dr. Fish is now an American doctor, too! Someone sent me an online article about it. I don't think it's exactly the same, but it seems similar. Take a look-see:

TINY CARP NIBBLE YOUR TOES IN FISHY PEDICURE

Luckily for me, Dr. Fish only costs about $3 for 1/2 hour here. But I think it may just prove to be a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience!

Chuncheon Ice

I finally got to go skating for the first time since I've been in Korea. I visited Chuncheon last weekend. (One of the KAC workers is from Chuncheon, and he invited a group of teachers to visit him and his family.) This ice rink is really close to his house, so a bunch of us went to a public skate together. It was really fun. It had been about 2 months since I was on the ice, so there were a few shaky moments (see below), but all in all, it just felt really good. I miss my stress-relieving sport!

(Oh, and the Korean-speaking voice in the first video is Marvin, a teacher from Canada.)

Soccer Game

North Korea vs. South Korea! I saw this soccer game a few weekends ago.
The final score was 0-0. Seems like the only politically correct outcome to have...

Hanoori Church

My latest fan club:

There's always something good that comes out of something bad. At least according to an optimist... {wink, wink} For me, that something has been a fan club. Seriously. Well, at least kind of seriously...

After my original host family kicked me out, I temporarily moved in with Soon Jae, a Korean English teacher at my school. She is likely one of the most gracious people I know. We've been sharing just about everything over the past few weeks: work, home, weekend activities.

Three weeks ago she introduced me to her church. That's where I met my fan club. I am a great curiosity to them. They are fascinated with me because I am tall, white, and speak another language. (They were surprised to learn that brown is my natural hair color.) And they treat me like a star. But that's not why I go to church there now.

I go there because Soon Jae's church, Hanoori (“one flock”), fascinates me. They meet in a multi-story apartment building in an upper room with a white walls and blue cushions on the floor. There is a large shoe rack by the door where everyone takes off their shoes at they enter. It's Korean tradition, but as I remove my shoes I can't help but wonder what Moses felt like as he took off his sandals to stand on holy ground in the presence of God.

The people at Hanoori sit in a large circle on the long wooden floor. Children come and go from a smaller room off to the side, and several mothers have their laps full of baby. Everyone else balances a songbook or Bible on their knees. People look at each other as they worship, and they laugh at the babies and smile at the latecomers. The musicians take turns calling out numbers to songs, and the big circle of people tends to sway back and forth depending on the rhythm. Music seems to have the same rippling effect on them as when the wind blow across fields of soybeans in the Midwest.

There is no pastor in this church. The people take turns speaking and sharing what God has been transforming in their lives. They pray for long periods of time, and sometimes everyone prays out loud at the same time. The sound of everyone speaking different words to God seems so real. One of my co-workers calls it popcorn prayer. Voices pop out of different corners of the room. And they are hungry for God.

After the worship service is over, smaller groups of people meet to teach and pray together. They talk about being a church with an apostolic ministry and wanting to follow God more than anything else in their lives.

Meanwhile, a group of married women prepare lunch in the kitchen. When lunch is ready, everyone fills their plate and sits together in bunches on the floor around small tables. Then coffee is brought out and more visiting begins. That's when my fan club decides to grab both my hands and drag me off to play. We play all sorts of games.

Hanoori is not a big church. It just started a few years ago as a church plant from another church in a different area. But it's the real deal. And I'm guessing that they might not stay small for long. :)

Some Culinary Culture

The astonishing thing about visiting a foreign country is often not the differences (one expects those), but the similarities. Korea is a culture of daily contradictions. Or so it might seem. There is a constant blend of old and new, eastern and western culture. I have noticed this especially with regard to food. For instance, Starbucks is located on just about every corner right next to a traditional Korean restaurant, and if you go to Outback Steakhouse, they serve you kimchi with your meal. Subway is popular, but Koreans believe it's only snack food. One can't have a full meal unless rice is involved. And I recently saw a jar of peanut butter on sale for 15,000 won (about $15)! Something like that makes for an interesting kind of culture shock.

Of course, I've had my share of non-American food adventures, too. I eat anchovies ("little fishies" is what my host mom calls them) for breakfast every morning. I am told that they are a good calcium supplement. But the other day my host mother burnt the little fishies, so I had to suffer through a morning without them. It was rather tragic. She did quite a good job of burning them. They were completely black, as was the container she cooked them in. So I ate Korean-style omelets and a piece of toast with strawberry jam.

I also eat various kinds of raw fish, caviar, and dried squid. The dried squid is a very popular snack, although rather salty. Fermented bean soup comes with nearly every meal in a restaurant, as well as kimchi and pickles. I am getting used to that. But what I especially enjoy are sesame seed sticks. They are quite safe and tasty.

The height of my culinary bravado came the other night when some of the staff invited me to go out for live octopus. I had to teach late, so some of them went ahead and ordered before I got there. I rushed over, but they had already eaten almost all of it. The three pieces or so that were left were no longer moving. So I only tried one piece of dead raw octopus. It didn't taste too bad when dipped it in sauce. (But I was rather disappointed, so there are no pictures of the octopus here.) Apparently, octopus is really fun to eat when it's alive. They told me it suctions to your mouth as you try to eat it. You have to chew a lot, I guess. Eat or be eaten, as the case may be. Such is life...

No Rae Bang

I experienced one of those "must have" experiences last night--karaoke. In Korean, they call it "No Rae Bang." Everyone gets into it, even middle-aged business men, so I suppose that means it's a good way to de-stress. The administrators and teachers and staff love it, too!

So, beware. :) This is what happens when you start teaching English in Korea:

Life is like the Oregon Trail...

If my life was a copy of the Oregon Trail computer game, my character would be traveling at a grueling pace right now. Well, at least that's what it feels like at the moment. I'm hoping to reduce it to a mere strenuous pace during the next few days. I've been quite busy with all of my lesson preparation and orientation at the school, but hopefully things will slow down soon!

Homestay

One of my good friends once told me that I have a knack for meeting interesting people. I'm not sure if that's actually true, though; it seems to me that you can find something interesting in almost all people if you search hard enough. Of course, maybe I just have an easier time of it than others. Who knows?

Anyway, I have decided that my host mother definitely falls into the interesting category. I think I will write a book someday and make her the comic foil. She is quite the character--always talking, always cooking, always worrying--and she twitches when she's trying to pay attention to someone. Plus, she's anal retentive about hairs on the floor. She has lectured me several times on the importance of picking up hair. If she sees a stray hair on the floor, she squacks (that's the closest way I can describe the sound) and gives me a demonstration on how I should address the task of picking up the hair and throwing it away. It's quite odd. So I suppose she could accurately be described as a busybody. But she's also good-hearted, so I'll try not to complain too much.

My living situation is a little different than I anticipated. I live with In-Hwa (my roommate) all the time, as well as her little sister (age 13). Their mother stays with them 2 weeks every month (during which time she educates me on the importance of hair reduction in the house), and their father comes to visit 2 days every month. Their other sister visits on the weekends when she is not at the university.

I live on the 25th story of a large apartment building. Apparently, it's one of the wealthiest places in the city. And I don't doubt it because everything here is top-notch in quality. The only drawback might be that all the buildings look alike: tall and off-white. As a result, I had a bit of a scenic adventure as I was returning home today...that is to say, I got a little lost. Landmarks are hard to come by. But luckily for me, the people in Seoul are helpful. When I stopped to ask for directions, I found out that I was only 5 minutes away from my apartment. So it all worked out.

Blessing/Sending

New Horizon sent me off yesterday. They prayed for me in each service. It was one of those tiny extraordinary moments in a series of ordinary ones. I mention it because there's a bit of an interesting story behind that. But first of all, I should probably explain that I have an abnormal fear of middle-aged male pastors. I'm not sure why, but I do. The fact that Roger (the New Horizon pastor) is probably the most un-scary guy in the whole world makes little difference.

When Roger found out that I was planning to go to Korea, he told me to be sure to not escape until my church family had prayed for me. Well, I thought it sounded like a good idea, even if I'm not usually too crazy about a lot of attention. But as it came closer to the time to leave, I felt too awkward to talk to him about it. Since my departure was delayed, I figured he'd probably forget about it. Margaret kept pestering me, saying that it was an important thing, but I decided I might as well just fly under the radar and quietly leave the country.

Well, apparently, Someone had other plans. On May 11, Roger cornered me as I was headed into church. I suppose I was rather alarmed (given my pastor phobia and all). He asked me to speak to the church about what I was doing and why. (The thought of a big crowd alarmed me a bit, too!) But I couldn't say "no," and that's how I ended up in front of the congregation on Sunday. It was amazing to see the amount of people--some who were total strangers--who were willing to offer me prayer support and encouragement. I suppose I considered it a bit of a "bear hug" moment from God's family. And that was good. Oh, and it has helped me to get rid of some of my pastor fear, too. :)

More waiting...

I am entirely convinced that whoever invented bureaucracy should not have invented it. Paperwork will not solve the world's social issues. In fact, it will only compound them! (At least that's my not so humble opinion on the matter.)

I don't mind staying in the States a few weeks longer while I wait for my visa, though. I was a little disappointed to find out that I couldn't leave next Monday as originally planned, but I'm happy to have some extra time to spend with people here. And, as my aunt pointed out, I should still be around when the new Indiana Jones movie hits theaters. I have a feeling that this movie is best when seen in English, not dubbed in Korean! :)

Actually, I'm very thankful to finally have a definite idea of what my time frame for the next month will look like. Living in scheduling limbo was starting to grate on my nerves a bit. No one ever quite knows what will happen when the government and paperwork get involved. Regardless, though, I have determined that I would be quite happy to never have to fill out another information form again! Ugh...

Waiting

I have decided to title my blog after kimchi, a favorite dish of Koreans. From what I understand, there are over 500 different types of kimchi, most commonly cabbage or radish. Anyway, kimchi is spicy and sour and pickly all at the same time. There are a lot of flavors going on in one bite. A bit like life, I suppose... :)


It seems strange to sit here in my family's living room and reflect on what my life may be like in a year or 6 months, or even 6 days for that matter. Things are always changing in the world, but at the same time, they're not changing. It's one of those great paradoxes of life. And right now I find myself in a transition, holding my breath for change.

I suppose that moving across the globe to live in a foreign culture will change me a bit, but I doubt that it will shake the essentials. The sun continually rises in the east, Japanese beetles invade the roses each summer, and humans are...well, humans. We're works in progress. And I have a feeling that this experience may highlight that fact for me. :) Regardless, the important things in life remain the same.

I am excited to taste what this opportunity has to offer me. I anticipate a lot of flavors. And, like kimchi, there will probably be a lot going on in each bite. But I suppose that shouldn't make me too nervous. I have a feeling that God has something up his sleeve. He usually does.

I hope to hear from each of you often. I think I'll need a bit of American flavoring to add to my Korean-style life! I can't promise to be the world's best correspondent, but I will appreciate all your thoughts and prayers. And if you want to email me with news about your own life, that's more than okay, too! Until then...