Thankful

I'm sort of in a dark place at the moment. I am just desperately homesick. Like, feeling a weight sitting on my heart, pressing down on my lungs, making it hard to breathe levels of homesickness. And the funny thing is that I'm homesick for America for the first time ever, or at least the first time that has lasted more than a few hours. I've been gone for so long that I was starting to think that I was immune to homesickness, that I truly was a nomad without a home, and that I could count myself as blessed for that immunity and the freedom it conferred. But I actually feel much more lucky for being homesick. I miss America! I miss the country on my own passport! What a crazy idea. Add to that Hungarian homesickness, and... wow. Expat Thanksgiving will happen this weekend, except that I won't be there. I'm so happy that it will happen, but I'm also really really sad.

(My first Thanksgiving in Hungary, a lifetime ago, I got drunk in a freezing cold house and then yelled at Balint that he was being a bad coteacher. I yelled at him for translating "igen" for me, because what kind of an idiot did he think he was?, even though he was actually just being kind. I fell down a flight of stairs and pulled him with me while walking him down to his scooter. I then proceeded to go back upstairs and steal all the champagne in the house. I woke up the next morning, mortified and hurting, but discovered that, much to my continued amazement and delight, this wasted mistake, this vulnerability, had made us friends. I think I will always think of Balint on Thanksgiving.)

So. Dark place. Crying at work whenever someone messages me, and being pretty much near tears the rest of the time. I need to snap out of this, so I'm going to attempt to make a list of things that I am thankful for. They're not in order of importance, but just in the order they've been sitting on my mind. I have tried to exclude superficial things, though, as thankful as I am for my new electric blanket...

• At this time last year, I was just starting to accept that I was really quite sick. I'm so, so thankful that it all turned out to be nothing more than a very-treatable brain-stem infection, and not the tumor I was absolutely certain it was. It's crazy to think that just one year ago, I was pretty much certain that I was dying, and here I am fit as a fiddle.
• I am thankful that I have a beloved best friend who knows me, deep down inside, and actually loves me more for the ugly parts. I am thankful that we have traveled the world together, and that I know what real love (real sharing, abiding love) is as a result of having known her. I'm even thankful for how very much I miss her.
• I am thankful that I have a good job that I care about which also allows me time and money to do other things that I care about. I'm really thankful to not have to be constantly worried about my job any more. I'm thankful that I can support myself and pay for all my needs and reasonable wants.
• I am thankful for the new friends I've made here in Korea, because this would all really be pretty much impossible without them. I am thankful for my coteachers and their unflagging patience.
• I am thankful that I have lived in beautiful, complex countries that have touched my heart and molded me into myself. I am thankful that I have left little pieces of my heart in other places, because they keep me connected to the rest of the world and remind me just how small and vulnerable I actually am. I am thankful for the three Laurens that exist in three distinct languages.
• I am thankful that I have been able to travel to and around thirty-seven marvelous countries. I am thankful to have met their people, seen their sights, tasted their food, and spoken their languages. I am thankful that this won't be coming to an end in the foreseeable future.
• I am thankful for my family: how very close my dad and I have gotten over the past few years, my mom's making a way for herself, my sister and I talking again, and my grandparents still being around to worry about me.
• I am thankful for my friends who are far from me, but still close in my mind and heart. I wish I could see you all every day.
• I am thankful for all the tv shows, movies, and books that give me something to look forward to, think about, pick apart, and obsess over.
• I am thankful to Magdalena for taking care of my sweet Dexter in his old age, because knowing that he is loved and cared for is the only reason I was able to leave him.
• I am thankful for hope, butterflies and dumb leaps of faith. I am thankful for a heart that is not so scared that it won't jump.
• I am thankful for my parents' dogs and for the cats I've lived with over the years and all the happiness and silliness they have brought into my life. I'm thankful for my rats and all the sweet tummy kisses and playfulness.
• I am thankful that I am mostly strong and independent. I am also thankful that I can be needy and that I cry at the drop of a hat. I am particularly thankful that I don't cry easiest when I am sad, but when I am touched by the kindness of another. I am thankful that this is getting worse and worse as I age and turn into a bigger sap.
• I'm thankful for cooking, running, writing, and all the other things that bring a moment of silence into my loud-mouthed brain.
• I'm thankful for my older friends and the wisdom and patience they have shown me while they helped me to become a better person. I can only hope to be as amazing as you.
• I'm thankful that tomorrow will be another day for me to eat up, and that so many people will be helping me do so.

Grumble

"Lauren. We need you to do this thing. But we also need to work on your computer. So... go sit there for awhile."

Me, in a physical sense

I like my hair. I know that it does well for me. It's curly without being too crazy, and it's an interesting color: dancing along the border of red and blonde and brown, but the color of gold in the sun. I like that's it's easy, in that as long as I make the effort to keep it soft I don't have to much worry about it, and can just wash it and let it do what it wants to. This saves me a lot of time in my life, I know.

I like my eyes. I've developed an off-color spot in one of them over the past year or so that I'm not crazy about. But I like their color, and their size. I like their expressiveness (except when I'm trying to hide my feelings!) and that I still only need glasses occasionally, when I am very tired. I recently received a compliment on my smile lines, which was a bit unsettling as it was the first time someone other than my mother or a paid beauty professional has talked about them. I don't mind, though. I'm twenty-seven years old, and if I have to start wrinkling up, I'm glad that it's caused by my tendency to smile and laugh too much, rather than the opposite.

(I remember that after my year with the Americorps, I had a defined line straight down the middle of my forehead, and that at only twenty-one! I moved away, and my life got happier, and it went away. It seems to be staying away. I'm very thankful for the life changes that allowed that to happen.)

I like the bump on the end of my nose, because it is the only piece of my face that is my dad's.

I like my broad shoulders and my long neck. I like my big, strong hands which are capable of carrying many things at once or rocking an enormous ring. I like the lightning-bolt scar on my back, because I think it's cool, and because it's on my back rather than my forearm or face. I like my freckles, particularly the little ones that spring up after a day in the sun and then fade back into hiding.

I don't like my feet, which are long and wide and shapeless, and which require special care to not crack and hurt me. I do appreciate their propelling me about the world, however. I do not like my arms, which are too long for most shirts and too big, too. I do not like the mole on my right side that catches on shirts and hurts me.

And here I realize that I'm pretty darn lucky. Because I can't think of another part of me that I really dislike. My thighs spring to mind, because the tops are soft, but the bottoms are strong and hard... and my thighs let me run and bike. I wish the skin on my face was a bit less shiny, but I'm glad that it isn't too dry. Nobody likes their feet. Feet are gross. My arms are ok, and I guess reaching things is handy. It makes sense to dislike a mole that gets caught on stuff, because it's annoying.

The only part of my body that I'm actually truly self-conscious about is my eyebrows. I can deal with that.

*Click*

You know when something has been confusing, and you've been pondering it in a somewhat obsessive way? Like, really working on it with your mind? And then, all of a sudden, you get a new idea, so you do some research and suddenly *click!* it all makes sense in your mind?

Well, that just happened for me. I didn't even have to run too far for the realization. Which is good, because it is damn cold outside.

Waygookin Chopstick Challenge

A fun staff-dinner game: take a whole chicken, including bones and skin, stuffed with super-dense rice. Cover it in opaque herbal broth that boils for several minutes after being served. Use a pair of chopsticks and a dull spoon to remove the skin and bones, place them on a nearby plate, and crack open the chicken to get at the rice. No fingers!

At least my coteachers thought my explanation of, "This is a foreigner chopstick nightmare!" was hysterical.

Playing Hookie

Should that be an -ie, or a -y? Shows what a square I am, I guess.

Jihei and I went for a training that ended quite early. Rather than head back to work, we got coffee and chatted. Then we discovered that taxis don't come to the area we were in. So now we're on the village bus, heading slowly back into town where we can actually catch a cab back to our hood. We will be late to staff dinner. Oops!

And I'm the crazy person

If you've spent time abroad or even just with people from another culture, you've experienced this moment.

Something abso-freaking-lutely insane is said. You say, "I'm sorry, what?!" They say it again. You say, "I'm sorry, why?!" It goes on like this. You get upset. They get frustrated. The language barrier grows.

You remain baffled, and the worst thing is that everyone is clearly looking at you like you've lost your mind. Because they are used to this particular piece of insanity, but you are not, and they simply do not understand it, just as you simply do not understand what the hell is going on.

This is culture shock.

Three Months

I left the States three months ago. It feels like I've been in Korea forever and ever, though. Since I got here, I've visited six other cities. I've attended two conferences. I traveled to Japan. I've lost six kilos. I've gotten quite drunk twice. I've made new friends. I've made kimchi. I've slept in hostels, beds, on the beach, and on the floor. I kissed three people, one of whom I plan to keep kissing. I've learnt how to order my food and make a modicum of small talk with the taxi driver. I've settled into my job and I feel like I'm making a difference in these kids' educations. I've built my own comfortable little world all over again.

Today it started to snow. When my sixth graders noticed, joy and delight spread across their faces. They ran to the windows and flung them open, catching the tiny flakes on their hands and giggling like the children they still actually are. I didn't have it in me to call them back to their seats. It made my heart ache.

I found out that one of my two coteachers is leaving and I'll be teaching with someone else. On Friday. My other coteacher is very pregnant and will be leaving soon to have her baby. My whole life is going to change.

Lazy

Being sick and tired has ruined my motivation to blog. I'll be back next week... I'm off to a temple stay tomorrow morning!

I found that word!

I was right. It is a German word.

Vorfreude (n): the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures

Expo Park

On my side of the river, there is the old Expo Park. The city built it in 1994 for an exposition. It's freaky and futuristic, but sadly rather run-down and unused. Occasionally there are science or craft fairs for students, and the Daejeombie race was held there, but it's mostly empty. Some exhibits are still open, but they're in Korean, so not much use for me. It's a fun place to walk around, though!

Sick in Korea

I had to go running out of my second-period class today to be sick. So I got to spend the rest of the day at work, but in the nurse's office, curled up between two heating blankets and asleep. Except when I was woken up at lunch to go sit at the lunch table and eat some soup.

My coteachers took me to the doctor after work was over. I was prescribed a variety of pills, which you can see above in their adorable little packets (morning, noon, and night). I have a bad cold. Possibly the flu. My coteachers also bought me two servings of porridge (juk) which you can also see above. It has shredded chicken and is the Korean equivalent of chicken noodle soup. I was so touched that I cried in the pharmacy. Then they all called to check up on me. More tears.

I'm never more aware of the fact that I am an extrovert (just a judgy one) than when I am sick. I just want someone to come lay with me, pet my hair, and talk to me! My energy is so low and I become a giant ball of need. But movies help. Porridge, too.

Camp Plans

I worked on camp plans so long and so hard that today I had to wear my glasses to work. I forgot the word "archer" for several long minutes. I coughed all day.

It was amazing. I love to create.

A Step Back

Take a deep breath. Ask.
Discuss. Take a step back.
Act accordingly. Feel your heart take a surge forward.
Watch it go.
Shrug. What can you do about it?

(I guess you can write strange, obscure, free-form quasi-poetry about it on your blog.)

Also, I need to figure out where in the world to go for winter holiday.

Teaching as a Drug

You stand at the front of the classroom and the kids come rushing in. Smile. Make the appropriate hand motions so that they sit down and get settled. They're ready for lesson. And you're so ready to teach them.

When you prepare a good lesson, when you're in sync with your coteacher, when the stars align and the angels smile down on you... man, there is nothing better than teaching. And when everything goes wrong, and the kids are rebelling and your coteacher has no idea what's happening... it's still pretty damn amazing.

I feel so alive in the classroom. All of my senses are on alert. I can teach a grammar point while writing on the board and narrowing my eyes at a student about to misbehave without breaking stride. I can understand questions asked in a language that I don't even speak. I can express whole ideas with a quirk of my face or the softest touch of my hand. Feeling connected to twenty-six growing minds is a really humanizing experience. That's why I spend so much time reading about it, finding new techniques to try, and talking about it in real life and online. It really is my number-one hobby and interest.

The best thing about teaching is that, when I'm doing it, everything else goes away. No stress. No worries. Everything that is bothering me about the rest of the world ceases to exist. Everything that is making me happy about the rest of the world disappears, too. I feel like I exist purely for this service. I imagine this is what the religious feel like, except I feel this way about verbs and phrases, and that moment when realization washes over a child's face.

When they cancel my lessons, as they did today, I feel the pang of withdrawal. Don't they know I need this?

Kyoto's Sanjusangendo Temple

When I went to Kyoto last month, I didn't really know what to expect. I was woefully unprepared, and I wound up not even making it to the Royal Palace, but I really don't care. Because, after a quick flip through the convenient little guide book given me by my hostel in Osaka, I decided to head to the Sanjusangendo Temple, with its one thousand golden Buddhas. There was a long, dark hall. You took off your shoes and went in, then turned the corner and felt the wind pull out of your lungs.

Literally as far as you could see, there were life-size golden Buddhas, stacked up in rows of one hundred, ten deep. Each was slightly different, as they were made individually. In front of the Buddhas were various other gods, also life-sized. They also had glass eyes in their faces, so they were rather creepy. Of course, there was an incredibly strict photo ban. Oddly enough, there are limited photos online as well. I will just have to remember them.

In the center was one large golden Buddha, surrounded by incense and prayer bells. It was rather staggering to reach the center Buddha after what felt like a lifetime of Buddhas, and realize that you had just as many Buddhas left to see. It was all rather overwhelming, and at one point I actually took a break to lean against the wall and close my eyes. It's crazy to think about the deep faith of the past.

So after I eventually wandered out blinking into the light, I checked out the gardens and such, which were also very lovely.

 washing station

Sooo... why the cups, then?

 pond

 selfie!

 prayer bell

Twenty-four Hours in Daegu (Plus a Train Ride)

Saturday afternoon I headed to Daegu, a town about two hours away on the slow train. I arrived and found my friend Jackie, who had graciously agreed to host me. We hung out for a bit, chatting about various things, until her friend Stefanie also joined us. Then the conversation took a fun turn towards post-feminism and pornography. (Sorry, Grandma!) So we had a really fun and animated conversation, on a topic that I haven't really been able to revisit lately. It's amazing how much just talking about something important can wake you up, and how much connecting with strong, positive women can make you feel powerful and safe.

So then we headed downtown, where there were various Halloween festivities going on. It was super fun. I sang, I danced, I ate too much junk food. I ran into nice people I'd met at orientation and friends that don't even live in Daegu. We clung to each other, hands locked onto each others elbows, grinning stupidly into each others' faces. At about four in the morning, we decided to get "bag drinks" (cocktails mixed together to take away in a heavy-duty ziplock) and they gave us sparklers. So we ran through the streets, trailing pixie dust behind us, and I was happy.

Sunday morning I was, to put it mildly, much less happy. The perils of trying to hang with the twenty-two year olds! But Jackie went out and brought back sweet bread and coffee, and I managed to get myself up and dressed for the opera. The bus ride was a bit brutal, for sure. At one point we were stopped at a light and someone was literally jackhammering on the sidewalk. Jackie groaned, "I feel like they're doing it to me on purpose."

So we got lunch, and met up with others, and headed to the opera house. Tannhauser was good, even if the male lead left something to be desired in the acting department. Observations: in the party scene, all the Korean extras came in with their cell phones and started taking selfies. Non-iron applause feels disorganized, insincere, and just generally wrong. What does the pink paper mean?! Then it was time for dinner and catching the train home.

The train ride home started innocently enough. I was sitting, happily reading articles on motivation theory, when I realized that my seat partner had changed. In place of the old lady that had gotten off at the last stop, there was now an old man. Staring at me and rubbing himself, breathing on my neck. I did what I always do, and blatantly took a picture of him with my phone. He was undeterred, so I got up and changed cars. He followed me, and again when I changed cars a second time. I was contemplating just locking myself in the bathroom when I found the dining car, where I could successfully hide myself in a group of families with children, and he wandered off. This all happened on the totally crowded, well-lit train!

And then I got really livid. Because, seriously, how is this an okay thing?! How is it possible for the actions of one individual to so quickly and totally steal away all the feelings of happiness and connectedness that I was feeling, and leave me scared and alone? Why do we still live in a world where women have to be constantly aware? Because that's the thing that men don't understand. It's not that women live our lives afraid or worried or scared. It's just that we have to live them aware. Aware of our surroundings, aware of the looks that rest on us, aware of the length of our skirts and the grabability of our hair. And it's bullshit.

I caught a taxi home, arms and legs shaking with impotent rage, and Tiff made sure I was ok. Sure, I said. It's happened before, I said. At least he didn't touch me, I said. How sad is it that that is the standard? He violated my privacy, personal space, and sense of security. He violated my personhood, turning me into an object to be used for his needs. But at least he didn't touch me. How sad is it that so many women just nod, because they've lived this countless times, too?

Surprise

Things keep happening unexpectedly in this country.

I ended my work day on Friday just exhausted. It had been a very fun week, with all the Halloween festivities, but it sort of took it all out of me. So I did some yoga and had a nap, pretty typical night, really. Except then I left my house and things took a turn for the much less typical. It was all somewhat... unsettling? But that's not the right word. I feel off balance and somewhat uncertain, but not in a bad way.

What is it when you feel simultaneously nervous and comfortable? Is there a word for that? I'm sure there is in German, they win at the very specific emotional descriptors. In the meantime, I'll just call it Korea and spending too much time inside my own head.

Stuff I have had to make my students say

This is not a post dedicated to the ridiculous things my students say of their own free will. This is a post dedicated to the phrases I have been forced to teach my students, to make them repeat them ad nauseum until they were etched into their little brains, thanks to the Korean national curriculum.

• The lemon said, "I'm bigger than an orange."
• There is a penguin standing at the magic bus stop.
• May I have a fork? (uttered of course by the hapless waygookin child who can't use chopsticks)
• Do you remember what the kiwi bird said?
• You look like a Scotsman.
• How **** it is!
• My face pouch has many songs.
• Yes. I'm your Daddy-Long-Legs.
• Sorry, but you may not have your dress.
• I rode Rony, a flying cat.
• Look at the blue cap! Oh, it's a blue cap. This is a blue cap for you. (WHAT IS IT?!)

The upcoming unit is entitled "King Sejong Invented Hangeul." It includes the following exchange:

• Jiho: He invented Hangeul, the Korean alphabet. Now everyone can read and write.
• Amy: He did a really good job!
• Jiho: Yes. He did many things for us. He made a water clock, too.
• Amy: He's amazing.

Jeezy Creezy.

Oh, Happy Day

I have found a pub that I like. It has good food, cheap beer, and friendly staff. The music is pleasant and does not require you to shout to your table mates. Best of all, it's only a 5000 won taxi ride home.

I'm totally infatuated. I can't wait to return. This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.