Feeling a bit Seoulless

I've been feeling a bit off my game lately. I have mentioned this feeling once before, but this time it has proven to be quite persistent. I can't even explain what the feeling is, or really even put my finger on what exactly it is. Something is just off, something is missing here. 

I know, you must think I'm crazy. With technology buzzing all around, coffee shops on every corner, and soju that costs less than $1 a bottle, what's there to miss eh? I'm sorry but I think I've had my fill of high heels, rice for every meal, and walking past grown men passed out with their pants around their ankles every weekend. You know what we say when people ask us what it's like to live in Korea? We say, "It's like living in a joke". Seriously. It's like nothing you could ever predict or imagine. 

Besides missing common sense, Korea is missing something more. Today I was hanging out in a friend’s apartment and we were reminiscing about the times we had both spent in Spain. We looked through pictures, listened to music, and even had a little one-on-one Salsa dance lesson. (She was the one teaching, I was the one learning.) However, I left her place with that pit in my stomach. The pit that has been waiting to be filled with culture, with history, or perhaps just with a chicken burrito from Chipotle. 

Living in a concrete jungle is an understatement when it comes to Korea. Sometimes I feel like I'm inside a pac men game when I go down one street, only to realize I've come in the complete opposite side of the street I wanted, but it all looks identical. Besides the food and all the Koreans walking around everywhere, it's basically the same as living in the U.S. I don't feel that Korean culture. There have been a few times I've been completely immersed in a book or my ipod on the train, only to suddenly be jerked back into reality and look around to find I'm literally the only white person in miles. Things are written in English, there are American restaurants everywhere, and I speak English all day long. 

I just wish there was the inspiration I felt at any given moment while walking down the street in Spain. I wish I could feel the passion, the music, the history in anything here. The Koreans work all day long, the kids go to school for even longer, and everyone is so delirious by the end of the night they drink their sorrows away in soju. 

Now I don't want to be the asshole that keeps comparing Korea to back home or to a better place I've lived, but I can't deny that my heart is not fulfilled here. I think I may have a solution though. Fancy that! I've been listening to more and more Spanish podcasts, grooving to my Spanish music, and now have an inspiration/teacher for Salsa. SO, with that said...I may have to just get my Spanish-on while living in Korea.  Wouldn't it be just hilarious if I became fluent in Spanish while living in Korea rather than when I lived in Spain? Haha. 

I also think this lack of 'umph' I'm feeling in Korea may have something to do with the half way mark. I've been here almost 6 months, am in the middle of switching jobs, and am feeling like I have nothing in common with anyone. But I hope this funk will pass. I hope that with my love for Spanish culture, my interest in Korean culture will peak.  It's not that the culture is not here; it's just that it is masked by the busy-ness of the day-to-day life. But I think I gotta find that something I love, that something that inspires me to learn everything there is to know about everything.  

It will happen. Que sera, sera. Right? 

I leave you with this Youtube fav of mine right now.  

Banana Pancakes and Fresh Squeezed Papaya Juice

Landing in Denpasar airport in Bali Indonesia after a 24 hour layover in Malaysia and an awful stomach bug, was probably one of the best feelings in the world. Little did I know that we wouldn't actually be leaving the airport for another three hours en route to our hostel.

When you get to the airport in Indonesia, you have to get an 'on arrival visa' in order to enter the country for any reason. This my friends, takes longer than standing in line at the polls on Election Day. For three hours we stood there, wondering why the hell stamping a passport was taking so damn long. The only redeeming qualities were that we had finally arrived in Bali, and we were standing behind what my friend and I nicknamed, "The Good-looking Couple".  This couple had been on our flight from Malaysia to Bali, and were so incredibly good looking they gave Brangelina a run for their money. They were tall, tan, and Spanish. What's not to love about that?

Anyway, after getting through the line we went outside to a huge crowd of Balinese men holding up signs with names of tour groups, hostels, hotels etc. Finally I found my name, and we followed the guy over to his car. The drive to our cottage hostel took almost two hours. During those two hours I may or may not have shit my pants a number of times due to the fear of losing my life with the amount of insanity that goes on at any given moment on a Balinese "highway".  There were dogs, cats, chickens, motorcycles packed 4 people deep, trucks playing chicken until the last second swerve, and half gravel half cement roads. It was absolutely insane, the craziest road I have ever been on.

We finally arrived at our hostel, were shown to our own little cottage, dropped our bags and then proceeded to hunt for food. We ate a delicious meal of vegetable and chicken curry, and headed back to sleep around 9:30 exhausted from traveling for almost 48 hours. Of course going to bed at 9:30 prompts early wake up, even for me. We awoke at 8 am, had breakfast and headed to the beach.

For the next few days this is basically what we did. There was a little back patio right on the beach side to our hostel, where we would eat breakfasts that consisted of delicious banana pancakes, fresh fruit, and strong Balinese coffee.  We lounged at the beach most of the days, sometimes taking breaks to explore the town a bit. We came across a group of Australians who owned a hostel down the road from ours, and they decided to take us under their wings a little bit. They gave us advice about what to do, what to see, which taxis to take, and buses that won't rip us off.

One day the Australian owner (who was married to a Balinese woman and had two Balinese step sons) offered his sons taxi service to take us to the neighboring town for the ATM and down to the white sand beaches afterward. The moped ride was my favorite part of the trip by far. The scenery was absolutely amazing. They took us through rice fields, palm trees, typical Balinese towns, and even a monkey forest. It was really cool. Of course when we arrived at the ATM it didn't work, and in turn I had to basically ration off the rest of my money on the trip for food. But once we got down to the white sand beach it didn't really matter anymore.

Another highlight of the trip was a tiny village where we were able to see a lot of the local life. Most women were sitting around weaving blankets or painting. The men were tending to the chickens or lighting fresh incense.  There was a small school up there too, and the children were dressed in cute little uniforms.

The trip was really great. It was a short trip, but definitely worth the money and the travel.  I had some pretty cool moments there, with people from all different nationalities.  I think the best moment I had was with a young, local, Balinese girl.  I had separated one night from my friend, and walked pretty far down the beach to try to catch the sunset.  I walked really far out on the rocks, and sat down waiting for the sun to go down. The weather was getting quite cloudy, but it was still stunning.  The girl was sitting close by with her boyfriend. All of the sudden she just plops down right next to me, a smile from ear to ear, and says "Hello".  I said hello and we chatted for a few moments.  Her English was not great, and it was a bit hard to understand. But I did manage to understand she wanted to try and practice her English. She was incredibly sweet, and it was a blessing to have her be so nice to me.  Sometimes when you travel you just get into the mind set that everyone is trying to sell something to you, rip you off, smuggle something off of you. It was refreshing to sit with this local girl, and just have her be interested in where I was from and why the hell I was sitting on the middle of a rock on the North shore of Bali. It's little things like this that make the layovers, delays, visas and all the other shit you have to go to when traveling worth it.

And alas, now I am sitting back in Korea where it is humid as hell outside, wondering where I will plan my next adventure.

Life is good when all you have to worry about is where you'll travel to next eh?

Time

I've never met two more different people than my mother and my father. I can't even believe they've been married for as long as they have because they seem so fundamentally different. I mean really, it's not really a marriage after 30 some odd years is it? I wouldn't call it marriage, but successfully co-existing rather. (I'll hear an ear full of this later I'm sure.) Who knows, maybe they were more alike when they got married than they are today.

My dad is very calm, cool and collected. He's the "cooler than the cat that went to school just for lunch" kinda guy. Now granted, he's nearly 100 years old...so who's to say he wasn't ape shit insane in his early years. (I'm kidding dad. You don't look a day over 60.) And my mother, oh my mother. She does things at a mile a minute, and works herself until exhaustion everyday. But I've never met a person with more drive, more ambition, and more sass in their ass than my mother. All of which I love dearly. If my parents were Winnie the Pooh characters my mother would be Tigger, and my father would be Eeyore. (Not the sad and depressed part of Eeyore, just the cool, laid back, nonchalant-ness of Eeyore.)

This brings me to my next point. Can two people who are so different survive in a long lasting friendship? A long lasting relationship? Can it work?

While living in Korea, I have met a plethora of people who are vastly different than myself. I enjoy meeting and being around people like me. But there comes a point when the differences between two people become an obstacle that seems too hard to overcome. Can someone who is chronically early last against someone who is chronically late? Can someone who is a sarcastic asshole connect with someone who is painfully shy? Can a Jewish person fall in love with a Buddhist? (I'm just throwing this in there because lets face it, everyone loves Jewish people. Have you ever met a Jew that isn't a fucking riot? They're hilarious. Bottom line.)

What I'm getting at is, how do we make friendships work? How do we make relationships work? Of course it's easy to have acquaintances, and people you have coffee with once or twice a week. But I'm talking about our "people" in our lives. The ones that stick around, the ones that we let see us without our make up on. The ones we are willing to let brave the early morning hours of that dreaded dragon breath (at their own risk of course.)

Do these "people" even exist in the world? Or will I always have to be toning down my strong opinions and emotions in order to not offend someone, or hurt their feelings? Will I have to hide my true feelings and emotions in a relationship just to keep it going? I've realized since being here it has been quite the struggle to figure out what is easier. Is it easier being true to myself, or trying to please others for friendship? Does there have to be a choice? 

Maybe the "people" and relationships we seek in our lives just take time. Maybe as time goes on, you learn to leave 5 minutes later when meeting your chronically late friend. Maybe you learn to bite your tongue a little bit,  take a step back when things get too emotional. 

Maybe the reason why my parents have been married so long is because my dad is the only one that can handle my mom when she's stomping around the kitchen at 6 am because no one made the coffee. Or because my mom is the only one that can handle my dad when he's feeling ill, and she asks him what he's had to eat all day and he says, "chips". 

I've also learned that maybe I put too many expectations on friendships and relationships. I put people in one single category because I'm too afraid that's what they're doing to me. If Korea has taught me one thing thus far, it is patience. Maybe I need to learn a little patience in order for me to see the genuine friendships/relationships I've made. Perhaps it's just time.  

This Country Makes Me All Kinds of Crazy

I'm almost 100% positive that at any given moment in this country, I am completely, and utterly clueless as to what's going on. This has proved to be quite irritating for my A-type personality.

Of course I don't speak Korean, nor can I read the language. I can say about three words in Korean, and that has gotten me thus far. I truly do intend to learn more, but it's been a bit daunting. Especially when I go to speak I automatically turn to Spanish, which doesn't work out so well with these Koreans.

I remember when I first arrived; I was literally paralyzed in my own apartment. I woke up at the butt crack of dawn the first day, which hasn't happened since.... I dunno, birth. Apart from thinking, "whoa...this is morning?!" I was also trying to figure out where the hell I was. I had my backpack, my computer, and a small twin mattress lying on the floor. I had no food, no water, and no cell phone. For the next 8 hours or so I tried to convince myself to go outside and attempt to get something to eat. 

I was petrified. What if I tried to pay for something and the person at the counter asked me a question in Korean? Or what if I got lost and couldn't find my way back to the apartment? What if I came home to my apartment and there was a killer inside waiting to attack me, and then no one would find out for a long time because I wasn't reachable in this freaking country yet, and hadn't even reported to work, nor told my parents I had arrived safely? (This is how my brain works people. Deal with it.)

So eventually I made it down to the mini-stop, and eventually made it to my job, and eventually made new friends. But the confusion cloud that surrounds this country is just as thick as the mold growing in the upper right hand corner of my shower that I can't reach. 

I never know what's going on at work. Everyday I come and something has changed. The time I teach has changed, the order of classes has changed, the children get perms, the cd player is broken, the Korean teachers are nice, (but most of the time they're mean), or there are just no children all together. I can't even begin to think of how many times I've showed up to work and there are no children. I walk in and the teachers laugh like it's the funniest thing in the world. Then they make the big "X" motion with their arms (you know exactly what I'm talking about), and attempt to tell me there's no school today. You would think they could find a way to CALL me before making the hour trip to work. They know the word "no", and they know "teacher Kasserin", and they even know "today".  Surely they can connect a sentence over the phone like, "No teacher Kasserin today". 

You see the thing is, as much as Korea has the reputation of being so organized and efficient (or is that Japan? Who knows, the rule of thumb seems to be Asians have their shit together. Period), it's not the kind of organized and efficient that I need it to be. If you know me, you know how I am. And while it may drive you nuts, things have to be organized, things have to be clean, and things have to have a reason behind them. Otherwise my brain won't have it. 

For example; why do all Korean doors say 'push' in English, but are clearly all 'pull'? Or why can I only pay my utilities bill at one certain bank that is a 15-minute walk away, when there are at least 10 other banks on the way? Why does the Korean man with the button up shirt and bad comb-over on the subway in the morning insist on doing very inappropriate stretches that make everyone else around him uncomfortable? Why does my washing machine skip the rinse cycle sometimes, so that when I go to pull my clothes out they're still sopping in soap? Why do the Koreans do the 'Korean squat'? Doesn't it hurt their knees?

I never know the answer to these ‘whys' in this country, and the reasoning behind some of these things if you ask a Korean, are almost always ludicrous. "Excuse me, why isn't the air-conditioner on today?" "Not hot". "Yeah you're probably right. 36 above with 70% humidity does seem rather cool today". 

While living here I've learned I can't have complete control over my environment, nor do I want to. I've learned people are perfectly happy doing things that don't make any sense to me, and they're perfectly happy having no common sense reason behind it. I do know that this country keeps me on my toes nearly everyday. Heck, I'm a god-dammed ballerina over here. 

Give me a book, a cup of coffee, an art museum, a photography exhibit, live music, good beer, a person I love, something to clean, something to look forward to, any of these things and I'm happy. And I can find these things in Korea. Who knows, maybe I'm the one who doesn't make sense. Maybe I'm the crazy one. 

Haha. Yeah right. 

Kids Say The Darndest Things

Me: Okay everybody turn the page to letter Z!
Students: Letter J!

Me: No, not letter J, letter Z! Z-z-z-zzzzz
Students: J-j-j-jjjjj

Me: Okay lets try a picture. What's the first picture of?
Students: Zebra!

Me: Good! Okay what's the second picture of?
Students: Jew!

Me: I'm sorry what?
Students: J-j-jewwwww!

Me: Um no. The second picture is of a ZOO! Z-z-zoooooo
Students: J-j-jewwwwww

Me: No. Listen to teacher. Watch my mouth.

---> Student raises his hand.


Me: Yes? Can you tell me what the second picture is?
Student: Teacher, Jews are dirty and stinky.

Me: Ay dios mios.  I give up.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

   I truly believe that almost half a persons character and personality is due to the way they were brought up, the nurturing (or lack thereof) by their parents, and just their parents existence in general. I believe I get my creative, organized and calm (don't laugh) side from dad. And just in the last few weeks, I've come to realize just exactly what I've gotten from you. 

  I want to thank you for teaching me to be an individual. I want to thank you for teaching me to be a strong-minded woman, and never apologizing for it. I appreciate the encouragement to do whatever I want to do in life, whether it involves going to graduate school or leaving everything and everyone behind to travel the world. 

 I thank you for letting me know I have a place in this world. To know that I can be critical, and that being critical is not always a negative thing.  Two things can happen to a person in this world: they can either let the world swallow them whole, or they can take the world into their own two hands and make whatever the hell they want their existence to be. 

 Being a white woman in Korea has taught me a lot about myself. I have realized how strong my character is, and how this is perceived by others. You have taught me to embrace this perception, and to not be embarrassed by it. I'm opinionated, loud, judgmental when I feel strongly about something, compassionate when something moves me, and critical of others but mostly of myself.

  At the end of the day it's all about being able to look yourself in the mirror, being able to wake up and feel that I am true to myself. From you I have learned that while our past still haunts us, it does not become the person we are on a day-to-day basis. 

 Thank you for being the one person I can rely on, and the one person who never gives up on me. It is from you that I have the courage to keep moving forward, to keep setting these wild almost unattainable goals for myself, and to always, always, always stand up for my beliefs. 

 If I had to pick just one thing I am thankful for, I am thankful that I am your daughter. 

Love always,

K

One Is The Loneliest Number

Today is The Fourth of July. Besides it being the fourth day of the seventh month, it is Independence Day back in the states. It was a weird day for me because I'm usually fairly excited about the fourth. The U.S traditions of barbeques all day long, good beer, and an amazing fire-works show to top off the night are all something I look forward to every year. I found myself avoiding other Americans here, and politely declining invites for barbeques. And I'm not really sure why. Maybe I've been in a bit of a funk this week, or maybe I didn't want to pretend that we could make the fourth as good as it is back home. Or maybe I didn't want to think about the states, people in the states, and what usually happens in the states on this day...at all.

Instead I did the normal Sunday duties. I made a big breakfast, did laundry, worked out, and attempted but failed to go grocery shopping. It was a fine day. And I'm okay with fine.

In the past week I have had some odd encounters with some Koreans. Most of the time any encounter with a Korean usually involves them treating me like a complete imbecile, staring at me like I'm from another planet, or just flat out pretending I don't exist. But the Koreans I have come in contact with (and when I say 'in contact' with I mean actually physical or vocal contact, obviously I come into contact with Koreans every single day), have been quite pleasant.

The first occurred when on a weekly walk with my friend Claire. We were crossing a bridge and this elderly Korean woman literally could not take her eyes off of us. So I waved and smiled, asked her how she was. She was taken back a bit, but smiled and mumbled something in Korean. We walked a bit further down the river and realized she was following us. She came right up on us and began talking to us. It was obvious with our blank stares that we did not understand what she was saying, but that did not seem to faze her. She kept speaking. She eventually grabbed us both by the arms and started to drag us down the path. She kept pointing up to some strange building, and gesturing wildly. This literally went on for 10-15 minutes or so, while Claire and I grunted something here and there and this woman-speaking non-stop in a language we did not understand. Then all of the sudden she hugged us, reached into her pocket, and handed us a small candy. She was actually very pleasant, and who knows what she was actually saying. But she seemed to like us, and if we could have understood each other who knows what kind of stories we could have shared.

The second occurred on that same day, as we were heading home. Since arriving we have been trained to keep our eyes on various trash areas in hopes to find something to furnish our almost completely bare apartments. On this particular day we found a gold mine. The apartment building next to ours had an entire treasure chest of things we wanted to take. Of course it just being the two of us, had to choose wisely. I really needed an office chair, and there was a decent one there. However, it was really short. I tipped it over and tried to unscrew all the knobs, when the Korean security guard came up. He started talking to us, but again we had no idea what he was saying. He was motioning with his hands and pointing down at the ground. We quickly realized he was saying there was a taller chair somewhere...presumably down in the ground? We weren't sure. He shuffled into the building and hollered at us to follow him. He went down to the basement, and opened this really large steel door. Now, looking back on this, it was probably really stupid of us to follow him into what we now call 'The Dungeon'. But this guy was a small, older Korean man, and we were certain we could take him if he tried any funny business. He then enters this pitch-black room, reaches up and pulls the light string. And there it was. A lone office chair much larger than the one in the trash, in a very dusty, creepy basement. Why was the chair in there execution style all alone in this creepy basement? We didn't ask. We took the chair, thanked the man, and went on our way.

It seems as though just when I think I have figured out my stance on a culture, or a place (bad or good) something happens and I change my mind. Even the coffee shop I visit every morning before I head into school, has a nice Korean owner who shares her fruit with me when I have the time to sit down.

When I was out on my walk today, I sat down on some rocks to take a little break. I started to think about my time here in Korea thus far, and what's to come next. And before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. And the strange part? I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was upset. I just was. Maybe I was lonely, or maybe I was thinking of people celebrating the Fourth back home. Maybe I was missing someone I shouldn't miss, or wishing I could talk to a friend who turned me away. Maybe I was thinking how long a year actually is, and how sometimes the traveling I want to do after seems so far away.

Sometimes I feel off my game in this country, while sometimes I feel the strongest I have been in a long time. I change my mind about Korea everyday. And I suppose that's a good relationship to have with Korea. If it were too good I wouldn't want to leave and fulfill my goals of travel. And if it were horrible I would be high-tailing it back "home", where I feel more out of place than ever.

Sometimes you just have those days you know? Even in a country full of 50 million people, I still feel lonely sometimes.