World Cup 2010

Yesterday marks the first official day of the World Cup 2010. The World Cup is the greatest sporting event in the world, in my opinion. Despite the fact that soccer is insanely fun to watch, the amount of patriotism that comes out during this event is amazing.  I don't usually like to boast that I'm from America, but during sporting events like this it's nice to represent. I spent last night painting a white polo I bought from Emart as an American flag. I also painted a smaller South African flag in the bottom left hand corner of the shirt, and the back says USA! 

If the U.S wins this game it would be an OUTRAGEOUS win, and bring back memories circa 1950 the last time U.S played against England. It's gonna be a great game. 

This World Cup I also have paraphernalia for South Korea (because that would be wrong to be living here and not support their team), and of course Spain. I honestly think Spain could do very well this year.  I have a jersey from Barcelona that I'll probably sport when they play. I'm rooting for USA, Spain and Italy...although Italy and Germany I think will go the farthest. 

So in anticipation of the game tonight, USA! USA! USA! Ole!

Ahhhh Reflection

Summer is here my friends. Summer's here, and he ain't messin' around. I find it's always good to reflect on the things we're thankful for in the evening time when it's cooler.  Because when I'm walking to school in 90 degree weather (and what feels like 1000% humidity) and there is so much sweat cumulating in my ass crack that I could collect it and live off of it for an entire year if I were stranded in the desert.....I'm not feelin' so thankful. 

Most of my days lately have been going a little something like this:

I wake up spread eagle style, drenched in sweat with my covers strewed about the room.  I get in the shower, revel at how amazing life seems under a shower, and fix myself a cup of coffee. Then I think to myself, " why in GODS name am I having HOT coffee right now?!" I spit my coffee out, and proceed to stand with my head halfway in the fridge for the next 40 minutes. I somehow manage to get myself ready without fainting, and make my way to school. On the 15-minute walk from the subway to the school, I'm cursing every non-sweaty, no-body hair Korean in sight. I'm also cursing every Korean woman in her mid-20's wearing what seems to be a very well put together clubbing outfit. Really ladies? It's Monday, and it's a million degrees. WHY are you wearing heels, tights, a mini-skirt, a t-shirt and a blazer?? It's rather absurd. 

I get to school and realize the gate is locked. AGAIN. "Oh Kasserin...press bell, press bell".  I press the "bell" for about 20 minutes because no one is near the office to hear the bell to buzz me in. Then inevitably a Korean teacher realizes that I'm not there.... you know teaching...and shuffles outside to let me in. "Kasserin! Kasserin! Late late! Teach teach!".  I usually smile and say sorry, but what I'm really thinking is no shit Sherlock. I've been standing outside for lord knows how long pushing that damn bell that none of you can hear. Sometimes I say things like "Oh! I'm so sorry! I was across the way, having myself an iced cafe latte, reading the morning newspaper. I completely lost track of time!" The teachers give me a strange look during these times of sarcasm, and just push me through to their classroom where the kids are waiting impatiently. 

I teach for 4 hours. But I'm convinced they've put me into some kind of time warp because it feels like I teach for about 10. I can just picture my Wongja (principal) sitting in her little office, turning back the time hour by hour, giggling to herself "He he he stupid American.... you think it's 5 o'clock somewhere? It's never 5 o'clock in Korea!"

During my teaching hours I consider two things. First, I think why in the hell haven't they turned on the air-conditioning. And secondly, I think how much damage I would really do if I just totally judo'd this kid and drop kicked him a good one to his face. Yeah, my students and I have a great relationship. But then there's Jin Bae. Who, no matter what has happened in class that day, says "Kasserin! I luuub you!" as I'm leaving. 

So the end of the teaching day is always a little better than the beginning. But then I leave again and come out into the vortex of heat hell. I walk down to the subway and hang around for an extra half hour trying to stay cool under-ground. I get back up to my apartment and gorge myself on pp & honeys, and usually pass out on my bed for an hour or two. Then I'll meet up with a friend for dinner or coffee, and we'll stroll down to Jeongja to walk along the river. 

When I arrive back at my apartment I realize this is exactly where I want to be right now. I realize when I meet a new friend that I know will be an asset to my life, it makes me appreciate the choices I've made to be here. And when I'm feeling anxious about waking up and doing it all over again, I think about these few moments of serenity I have before bed each night. I think about how calm it is, and how calm I am. I realize the kids are too cute to boot, the sun is shining, I have food in my fridge, coffee ready in the morning, and a paycheck coming soon. 

I realize I'm not waiting. I'm not waiting on anyone or anything. And that's a wonderful thing. 

Trade This Life To Be Back "home"? NEVER

I like to write things down. A lot. I write everything down. I write lists like crazy. I write what I'm thinking, or lyrics to songs I want to remember. I also tend to write down dates and times of things that I'm doing that I want to remember, or that I want to go back later and write in my journal about. Sometimes I have millions of pieces of paper folded up, and shoved into my bag, only later to find half of them a code that I cannot decipher.

Sometimes when I can't seem to find a reason why I would write a particular thing down, I just opt for taping or gluing it in my journal because it had to have been important right? Occasionally what I write down is hilarious, and other times it's quite disturbing. Once I found a folded napkin in the side pocket of my purse, that had a date and the word "HATE" written on it in capital letters. I can't remember what exactly I was doing on that date, or who exactly I was with, but it's clear that I was not pleased. And once I found a yellow sticky note that said, "Sandwiches here RULE. Come back. Order turkey". But no where on the sticky did I write where I had eaten this amazing sandwich.

The other night I got lost trying to go somewhere, and ended up spending what felt like an entire day on the bus. On the way home I wrote this in my notebook :
 

 
That pretty much sums it up.

The Invitation

Figuring Out The Kind of Traveler, Friend, and Person I Want to be all in one Weekend

This past Friday was a holiday, Buddha’s birthday to be exact. We were excused from work on Friday, and I decided to visit a very dear friend of mine from Spain who is teaching 3 hours away in Gwangju. I left Thursday evening after work, and I have to say I am quite impressed with public transportation here in Korea. I showed up at one of the main train stations in Seoul, was able to book a train for an hour later, and arrived 3 hours on the dot later in Gwangju. It was the smoothest train traveling I have ever taken. 

We arrived back at her apartment near midnight, drank some wine, and went out on the town to dance the night away. On Friday afternoon, we decided to scout the town to see what was happening at a local temple. Of course it being Buddha’s birthday, there were tons of ceremonies and things to do in the towns center. We ended up walking around a small temple, and the local Koreans were actually quite pleased to see us there. Well at least it seemed. They might have just been surprised to see four young American women, and our friend Joe who is almost 7 feet tall. Needless to say they were in awe, and even asked our friend Rachel to come up on stage to talk about America. Saturday turned cold and rainy, which was a bit odd because Friday was insanely hot and humid. But it was wonderful just to sit around my friend’s apartment, drink wine and cook together on Saturday night. I arrive back in Bundang around 4ish on Sunday. 

 It's a funny thing coming back to my apartment here in Bundang. It felt like I was coming home, to my home. It was a good feeling, an accomplished feeling, a comforting feeling. I remember feeling that after arriving back from trips in Europe when I lived in Sevilla.  It makes me feel like I'm making a little dent in this chaotic life that is Korea.

I learned quite a lot from this short trip down South. But then again I always learn so much when I'm around inspiring women like my friend Anna. I have never met a more beautiful soul. She makes me realize what kind of person I am, and what kind of person I want to be. She makes me take a step back from my life, and really look into it from the outside. And when I see me through her eyes, I see someone strong, intelligent, loyal, creative, loving, and brave. When I speak with Anna I discover new music, new art, new styles that I want to adopt into my life. And every time I see her, I come back yearning for a creative outlet that's bursting at the seams. So I come back to Bundang in search of more knowledge about the culture of Korea, the artistic genre of Korea, and something that can/will sustain my creativity in Korea. Last week I went to an open mic night, but was too afraid to get up on stage. This week I will go to that open mic night, get up on stage, and lose my inhibitions. 

I also discovered what kind of traveler I want to be, and kind of traveler I have been. A friend of mine from high school also came along the trip down South, and has been in Korea for 6 months or so. However, she doesn't seem to be happy in Korea. And to be quite honest, not many foreigners seem to be happy in Korea. They complain...a lot. They complain about the Koreans, the culture, the city, the air, the water, the work. It's true what they say, "Misery Loves Company", because when a group of foreigners get together they seem to do nothing but complain. The one thing she kept saying that struck me as odd that I've heard numerous times before, "This is not the real world".  I finally said to her, this IS the real world! What other world could this be? "Back home", is no more real than the life we're living here. In that moment I realized the kind of traveler I want to be. I want to be always in the now, always in the moment, always in the country I am traveling in. I don't want to be constantly referring to things back "home", or constantly being anxious about what I will do if/when I return "home".  I want to be able to realize where I am in the world, why I am here in this place right now, where I have been, and where I am going. I want to be the kind of traveler that looks back occasionally, looks forwards sometimes, but is always looking in the mirror. Here. I am here. I am not at home; I am not in my next destination. I am here. 

Being around these women this weekend, also made me realize what kind of friend I want to be. And what kind of friend I hope that I am. I want to be the kind of friend that inspires creativity, that lends a hand or a cup of coffee in the morning. I want to be the kind of friend that makes eggs and toast in the morning. I want to be the kind of friend who gives advice, but most importantly doesn't feel like I need to give advice. I want to be able to listen freely first, and offer my opinion second. Recently I have come into a situation regarding a long-standing friendship that has confused me, that saddens me. I have come to the realization that I want to be the kind of friend that doesn't turn my back on you, that always has my door open. I want to be the kind of friend that is honest, even if honesty will hurt. I want to be the kind of friend who will do anything for friendship. The kind of person who will always be there, never turn my back, even when your back has been turned to me. 

The weekend prior to this was the Lotus Lantern Festival in celebration of Buddha’s birthday as well. I took some photos, although with so many people crowding the street it was hard to get a quality shot.  I have attached some photos, and apologize for the lack of photography skills. These past two weekends in Korea have been a blessing, have been truly character building. 

Trouble with a capital T

Dear Random Korean Cab Driver,

   I sincerely apologize for vomiting in your very clean cab last night. It certainly was not my intention to become so intoxicated, sometimes these things just happen. I also wanted to thank you for not kicking me out of your cab, you know, because of the vomit. I was highly impressed at your concern for my well-being, as I noticed you rolled down the window and even tried to slow down as I opened the door while you were doing 80mph over the Han River.

  In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea to go to Ladies Night for free drinks. But it was night time, I'm a lady, and I'm not sure if you've noticed..but Americans love free stuff. Needless to say, it was what led me to be in such a state while in your cab.

 I hope you know that I feel terrible about it today, and you're probably cursing me right now. Maybe you're not cursing me right now, your mother probably taught you better. I know what you're thinking, and yes my mother did teach me not to drink too much. But that's really here nor there, and like I said, these things happen sometimes.

  However, I did give you all my money last night. Which I'm fairly certain was double what the cab ride actually cost. So go ahead, treat yourself to something nice, or perhaps a new detailing job on your cab. Your choice.

  I hope you take my apology, although it's very likely I will never see you again. It's probably what's best anyway. Thank you again, have a wonderful Saturday!

 

Searching for hope from Korea

I've been meaning to post for a few weeks now. I've been in Korea almost a month, and there is so much to say and so much to reflect on. I have had too many ideas, too many posts, and it has been difficult to narrow down which ones I want to write about.

However today, this post, has absolutely nothing to do with Korea. This is about home. I've never really identified with a "home" because I have been constantly moving around for as far back as I can remember. But when people ask me where I'm from, I say Colorado. Colorado is the place that feels most like home to me. I go back to Colorado and recognize things, I recognize people. I can recognize the way my family was, and how our life used to be when we all lived there together. I see restaurants we visited, schools I attended, and houses we lived in. We will always have a home in Colorado, we will always go back to Colorado. In Colorado there will always be a "we", and that's why I cling to it so much.

I also have a best friend from Colorado. And today it saddens me from the darkest part of my heart to find a single sentence message in my inbox from him. Today, the only mail I have opened is this mail. Today, the only thing I have thought about is this sentence. Today I weep for my best friend, I weep for his family, I weep for my hometown.  I cannot get the words, the sentence, the sound of my best friends voice out of my head. Today everything stops in Korea.  Everything stops in Colorado.

Today, "something terrible happened, we lost my brother."