i've learned this much so far: there are no "time-outs" in life. you don't get a break. you get seasons, rises and falls and ebbs and flows. but you don't get to check out. not ever. you can coast, sure, maybe through easy classes or saturday mornings or routines that become second-nature. but there is no stop button.
i think i wanted south korea to be a sort of halt for me. a break. a year to get my act together. figure out what i really want to do. kick back and travel. i was wrong. life keeps happening... fluttering, all around me. hearts racing and stopping. spirits soaring and being crushed. lists and tasks and chores and burdens.
so now, i know what i've got to do. i will gather all of this madness in my arms. i will scoop up as much as i can in these 2 arms, and i will breathe in the sweet and moldy scent of seasons changing, dying, fading. i will breathe it in and search for the hints of ginger and dew. i will hold it in my lungs for this one moment. this very moment.
and then i will fling it all as far, far, far away from me as i possibly can.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
like a first date
my understanding of the world has expanded in this place. my compassion, my patience, my humility and my grace tested and pressed into new shapes and sizes. walking home through puddles and slick yellow ginkgo leaves strewn about uneven sidewalks, even 3 months in, nothing is quite familiar.
all the constant change, the newness and uncertainty, allows me to appreciate my husband in new ways, and last night was no exception. it was a dreary, rain-soaked evening, so we stayed in and made spaghetti. after dinner, with no real plans and nothing to do, we lingered at the table and talked about family, about past memories and favorite stories. we laughed as we recalled some of the music we used to listen to, so i got out my ipod and scrolled through to find songs almost forgotten, lost at the bottom, beneath stacks of new songs and artists. we plugged in speakers and laughed as we nodded our heads in rhythm, old memories and concerts stirring to life behind our eyes.
like teenagers we talked together, looking up the latest on old bands, googling their tourdates and press photos, wondering what they were up to these days, all the while listening to music, our music, to pass the quiet damp night.
and so, i am thankful for all the ways that david is familiar to me. the stories and the life we share is a comfort and a calm. and yet, in that old, well known space of our friendship, we still manage to have so much newness everyday. we create new jokes, find new movies and songs and books to love, and learn new things about each other all the time.
when i was young, i worried that if i ever married, i might run out of conversation. i used to think that at some point, all the words will have been said, all the affections expressed, and then marriage would become boring, mundane, and maybe even a trap.
i am thankful that (while i am no expert) this doesn't seem to be the case. nights like last night feel like first dates all over again, and there is always more to know, more to say. i suppose that's why we ought to marry our best friends; if they're already your favorite person to hang out with, then it's like you get a neverending slumber party to fill with laughter and antics and eating in bed. sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
all the constant change, the newness and uncertainty, allows me to appreciate my husband in new ways, and last night was no exception. it was a dreary, rain-soaked evening, so we stayed in and made spaghetti. after dinner, with no real plans and nothing to do, we lingered at the table and talked about family, about past memories and favorite stories. we laughed as we recalled some of the music we used to listen to, so i got out my ipod and scrolled through to find songs almost forgotten, lost at the bottom, beneath stacks of new songs and artists. we plugged in speakers and laughed as we nodded our heads in rhythm, old memories and concerts stirring to life behind our eyes.
like teenagers we talked together, looking up the latest on old bands, googling their tourdates and press photos, wondering what they were up to these days, all the while listening to music, our music, to pass the quiet damp night.
and so, i am thankful for all the ways that david is familiar to me. the stories and the life we share is a comfort and a calm. and yet, in that old, well known space of our friendship, we still manage to have so much newness everyday. we create new jokes, find new movies and songs and books to love, and learn new things about each other all the time.
when i was young, i worried that if i ever married, i might run out of conversation. i used to think that at some point, all the words will have been said, all the affections expressed, and then marriage would become boring, mundane, and maybe even a trap.
i am thankful that (while i am no expert) this doesn't seem to be the case. nights like last night feel like first dates all over again, and there is always more to know, more to say. i suppose that's why we ought to marry our best friends; if they're already your favorite person to hang out with, then it's like you get a neverending slumber party to fill with laughter and antics and eating in bed. sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
lost the plot
people often liken south korea to the 50s in america. since they're just now coming into a relatively prosperous time for their country, i often see all the ways this is true. the squeaky-clean pop music complete with dancing and matching outfits. the crisp, newness of buildings and shops. the booming amusement park industry. the way the family unit still operates under classic stereotypes. the modest clothing. the wholesome cheesiness of it all. even the air raid practices. it's all straight out of a movie.
but with all this paused-in-time goodness comes inevitable downsides. and the biggest one i see is the racism. it's startling. it's appalling. and it's usually directed at me.
this morning, i walked to work like i always do. i got the usual stares, occasional kids yelling heavily accented "HELLO"s, and some glares. i keep my head down when i walk. it's easier. but along with the usual mix of attention, i got one woman standing at the bus stop, who actually, purposely stepped into my path, forcing me to stumble around her as she said, incredibly loudly "ANNN-YONG HASS-E-YO." (hello, how are you, in korean) it wasn't kind. it wasn't even really a question. it was actually said a lot like my rude students say it, in a mocking, affected manner, mimicing my accent. she waited for me to say it back with one expectant hand on her hip, which on knee-jerk reaction i did, even mustering a small bow before going on my way. after a few steps, the entire bus stop burst into laughs at whatever she said after she let me pass.
and, yes, it's a small interaction. but it was odd and upsetting, and here is why: think of america. if an indian person, or an israeli or somalian was walking down a strange steet in an american town and someone stopped them in their tracks and said to them a highly sarcastic-sounding "HELLO. HOW ARE YOU" in a mocking attempt at their native accent, it would be rude. it would be more than that: it would be inappropriate and offensive. even if there are some jerks who might still stoop to such a level in america, i like the think the entire bus stop wouldn't bust up laughing at the scene after the fact.
i know this isn't how all koreans act. i've been fortunate enough to meet dozens of kind people here. but when you are so far from home, so far from everything familiar, then even the tiniest gestures and interactions can become laden with meaning, association, and even overall well-being. nothing can be taken with a grain of salt.
but with all this paused-in-time goodness comes inevitable downsides. and the biggest one i see is the racism. it's startling. it's appalling. and it's usually directed at me.
this morning, i walked to work like i always do. i got the usual stares, occasional kids yelling heavily accented "HELLO"s, and some glares. i keep my head down when i walk. it's easier. but along with the usual mix of attention, i got one woman standing at the bus stop, who actually, purposely stepped into my path, forcing me to stumble around her as she said, incredibly loudly "ANNN-YONG HASS-E-YO." (hello, how are you, in korean) it wasn't kind. it wasn't even really a question. it was actually said a lot like my rude students say it, in a mocking, affected manner, mimicing my accent. she waited for me to say it back with one expectant hand on her hip, which on knee-jerk reaction i did, even mustering a small bow before going on my way. after a few steps, the entire bus stop burst into laughs at whatever she said after she let me pass.
and, yes, it's a small interaction. but it was odd and upsetting, and here is why: think of america. if an indian person, or an israeli or somalian was walking down a strange steet in an american town and someone stopped them in their tracks and said to them a highly sarcastic-sounding "HELLO. HOW ARE YOU" in a mocking attempt at their native accent, it would be rude. it would be more than that: it would be inappropriate and offensive. even if there are some jerks who might still stoop to such a level in america, i like the think the entire bus stop wouldn't bust up laughing at the scene after the fact.
i know this isn't how all koreans act. i've been fortunate enough to meet dozens of kind people here. but when you are so far from home, so far from everything familiar, then even the tiniest gestures and interactions can become laden with meaning, association, and even overall well-being. nothing can be taken with a grain of salt.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
a tourist
autumn brings with it the hunger pains of home, so far away.
autumn in iowa is hard to explain, but everything explodes in an exclamation mark of color: the end of a sentence - the shouts of summer. autumn in iowa stretches out the sky, lets the colors bleed longer, slants the sunsets into kalidescopes and patches and rays of light. autumn in korea is gnawing familiarity, with some yellows and reds spotting the landscape, but the sky is snuffed out by apartment buildings, and the trees are scrawny and dwarfed by powerlines.
i have been sick with a relentless cough. in the night i sit straight up in bed, while jagged fingernails of hot air claw across the back of my throat. my ribcage seizes, my lungs rattle. i scrunch my eyes shut tightly and wait. and wait. and wait. for the waves to cease crashing inside my body. for sleep to come.
and in that canyon of lost time, i miss home. i miss familiarity and vanilla-scented candles and childhood. i miss how my mom would walk up from the basement, carrying the cardboard box labeled "october" in black permanant marker and how pumpkins and scarecrows would flood every nook and shelf. i miss my cousin's marching band performances on a cold friday night. i miss carving pumpkins with friends. i miss warm zuchinni soup at my aunt and uncle's house. i miss my grandfather as he sports his first pair of tennis shoes, and as his body heals from a close call. in the hunched-over nighttime, i allow myself to feel these things. my defenses are down.
by the first shards of light elbowing through the mountains and into our windows, i accept another morning in korea. i prepare for another full day of teaching, of language classes and new friendships. i walk into an autumn that is not my own, but i will do my best to soak it up. this alternate universe that i live in has a strange beauty, but i hesitate to say "i'm home."
Thursday, October 20, 2011
welcome to the monkey show
you know those days where all you want to do is crawl back under the covers and give up?
today was one of those days.
first, let me give you a little behind-the-scenes peek at what i was up against today.
for the last month or so, my korean co-teacher and i have been feverishly preparing for our "Open Class." this 40-minute class is comprable to getting observed by the principal while teaching in the states... but 10 times more stressful because people who equate to the level of the superintendent, principal, and vice principal are all in attendance, plus a smattering of other teachers/adults who feel like watching you squirm. being foreign and having most of the cultural nuances lost on me, i still understood this "Open Class" was a big, seriously serious deal (such a major deal that i am capitalizing it here in my blog).
my poor co-teacher edited and re-edited the lesson plan daily. she arranged for us to teach in front of the absolute best-behaved fourth-grade class in the school. she had us run weekly practices of our updated lesson plans in front of these compliant fourth graders. i was a little miffed by the fact that i didn't get to contribute to any of the creative processes behind our lesson plan - she did it all and expected me to "just memory the script" word-for-word. no deviations. but i figured, fine. i'll be the well-behaved native teacher and do as i'm told.
this way of thinking became more difficult as our day of reckoning approached.
yesterday, my co-teacher arrived, exhuberant, to our last "Open Class" practice. she had rented out a costume for me to wear on the day of our presentation. she pulled out a glitter-covered top hat and a sequined tuxedo jacket, complete with coat tails dangling down to the backs of my knees. she then told me that i will wear this outfit while doing a magic trick in front of the class.
ok... fine.
but that's not all.
i was to wear this outfit for the entire duration of our lesson.
i was also to hide somewhere in the classroom at the start of the class, and wait for students to call my name.
then, i would pop out of hiding like a jack-in-the-box, and proceed to wow them with my magic trick and shiny getup.
i was also to wear black for the Open Class, because it would look best with my costume.
are you kidding me?!?!
there is a stereotype over here in south korea, that when a native English-speaking teacher comes along, he/she isn't a "real" teacher. he/she is just here to play games and goof off with the kids. we babble our strange, inconsistent little language with exaggerated motions, and act like puppets for the "actual" teachers: the korean ones. recalling a term that we used often at camp, i'd say us English teachers are the monkey-show.
there's only one problem. i don't want to be the monkey show. i'm not at camp anymore. i'm a university educated teacher. i'm not a genius, but i know my stuff. and when i looked through our Open Class lesson plan, i saw all sorts of problems, inconsistencies, and mistakes, but i let it go because i trusted that my teacher knew what she was doing. but this? this outfit, this hiding, this magic trick? this all put me majorly over the edge. i felt insulted.
and yet, come tuesday AM, where could you find me?
hiding behind a bookcase in a magician's costume, waiting for my cue to hop out and do a magic trick.
on this morning, the day of the Open Class, i woke up in a miserable mood, with my right eye swollen from mosquito bites that happened in the night (as said in a previous post, i have a freakish reaction to these bites and i felt like i resembled quasimoto or at least one of the mole people on this particular morning). on my walk to school, my new black tights developed a noticable run in the knee. i knew, then and there, that today was not going to be good.
so why did i go through with it? why did i put on the outfit and play into the stereotypes i so despise?
because i'm trying to get over myself. i'm trying to quit being so prideful, and go with the flow. my american-raised mind keeps telling me i know a better way to do things, and maybe sometimes i do, but i'm a guest in this country. i was invited here to teach, to instruct, but also to learn. i don't understand their customs or culture in the LEAST, and so i need to continue to take the humble posture of observer, learner, and associate while i'm here. i need to respect that my coteacher has taught in this system, in this country, for years, and she will continue to do so well after i leave. she understands the culture of the korean school system better than i ever will.
it wasn't easy, but i swallowed back my pride, and jumped out behind that bookcase with all the enthusaism i could muster.
in the end, part of my motivation for going through with the "monkey-show" routine also came from my years at camp:
you do it for the kids.
for their smiling faces and shy giggles and wide-eyed surprise. for their rapt attention, for making learning fun (these poor kids see no end to the hours upon hours of classrooms, of public and private school, of private tutoring, of homework, & so the break of even a hokey magic show is welcome relief in their eyes), for their questions in korean and their murmur of delight at the end of the trick.
in the end, our "Open Class" went okay. i couldn't really interpet the response of the smooth-talking, pompous Office of Education guy (who's hand i accidentally shook in my nervousness, oops!), but at least our friendly VP gave us the thumbs-up and repeatedly said "excellent" so i'll take that as a good sign. and maybe the best part, as my coteacher said, is that it's done. sigh. just another day in korea.
today was one of those days.
first, let me give you a little behind-the-scenes peek at what i was up against today.
for the last month or so, my korean co-teacher and i have been feverishly preparing for our "Open Class." this 40-minute class is comprable to getting observed by the principal while teaching in the states... but 10 times more stressful because people who equate to the level of the superintendent, principal, and vice principal are all in attendance, plus a smattering of other teachers/adults who feel like watching you squirm. being foreign and having most of the cultural nuances lost on me, i still understood this "Open Class" was a big, seriously serious deal (such a major deal that i am capitalizing it here in my blog).
my poor co-teacher edited and re-edited the lesson plan daily. she arranged for us to teach in front of the absolute best-behaved fourth-grade class in the school. she had us run weekly practices of our updated lesson plans in front of these compliant fourth graders. i was a little miffed by the fact that i didn't get to contribute to any of the creative processes behind our lesson plan - she did it all and expected me to "just memory the script" word-for-word. no deviations. but i figured, fine. i'll be the well-behaved native teacher and do as i'm told.
this way of thinking became more difficult as our day of reckoning approached.
yesterday, my co-teacher arrived, exhuberant, to our last "Open Class" practice. she had rented out a costume for me to wear on the day of our presentation. she pulled out a glitter-covered top hat and a sequined tuxedo jacket, complete with coat tails dangling down to the backs of my knees. she then told me that i will wear this outfit while doing a magic trick in front of the class.
ok... fine.
but that's not all.
i was to wear this outfit for the entire duration of our lesson.
i was also to hide somewhere in the classroom at the start of the class, and wait for students to call my name.
then, i would pop out of hiding like a jack-in-the-box, and proceed to wow them with my magic trick and shiny getup.
i was also to wear black for the Open Class, because it would look best with my costume.
are you kidding me?!?!
there is a stereotype over here in south korea, that when a native English-speaking teacher comes along, he/she isn't a "real" teacher. he/she is just here to play games and goof off with the kids. we babble our strange, inconsistent little language with exaggerated motions, and act like puppets for the "actual" teachers: the korean ones. recalling a term that we used often at camp, i'd say us English teachers are the monkey-show.
there's only one problem. i don't want to be the monkey show. i'm not at camp anymore. i'm a university educated teacher. i'm not a genius, but i know my stuff. and when i looked through our Open Class lesson plan, i saw all sorts of problems, inconsistencies, and mistakes, but i let it go because i trusted that my teacher knew what she was doing. but this? this outfit, this hiding, this magic trick? this all put me majorly over the edge. i felt insulted.
and yet, come tuesday AM, where could you find me?
hiding behind a bookcase in a magician's costume, waiting for my cue to hop out and do a magic trick.
on this morning, the day of the Open Class, i woke up in a miserable mood, with my right eye swollen from mosquito bites that happened in the night (as said in a previous post, i have a freakish reaction to these bites and i felt like i resembled quasimoto or at least one of the mole people on this particular morning). on my walk to school, my new black tights developed a noticable run in the knee. i knew, then and there, that today was not going to be good.
so why did i go through with it? why did i put on the outfit and play into the stereotypes i so despise?
because i'm trying to get over myself. i'm trying to quit being so prideful, and go with the flow. my american-raised mind keeps telling me i know a better way to do things, and maybe sometimes i do, but i'm a guest in this country. i was invited here to teach, to instruct, but also to learn. i don't understand their customs or culture in the LEAST, and so i need to continue to take the humble posture of observer, learner, and associate while i'm here. i need to respect that my coteacher has taught in this system, in this country, for years, and she will continue to do so well after i leave. she understands the culture of the korean school system better than i ever will.
it wasn't easy, but i swallowed back my pride, and jumped out behind that bookcase with all the enthusaism i could muster.
in the end, part of my motivation for going through with the "monkey-show" routine also came from my years at camp:
you do it for the kids.
for their smiling faces and shy giggles and wide-eyed surprise. for their rapt attention, for making learning fun (these poor kids see no end to the hours upon hours of classrooms, of public and private school, of private tutoring, of homework, & so the break of even a hokey magic show is welcome relief in their eyes), for their questions in korean and their murmur of delight at the end of the trick.
in the end, our "Open Class" went okay. i couldn't really interpet the response of the smooth-talking, pompous Office of Education guy (who's hand i accidentally shook in my nervousness, oops!), but at least our friendly VP gave us the thumbs-up and repeatedly said "excellent" so i'll take that as a good sign. and maybe the best part, as my coteacher said, is that it's done. sigh. just another day in korea.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
bewilderness
sorry about the silence. these days, david and i have been trying to keep up a blog over at wordpress (http://www.davidandbreeann.wordpress.com/) to chronicle all the craziness that is korea. but i want to hang onto this blog too, because it's the quieter, more hidden one. it's the one i can vent on, and know that i won't hear about it later from my mom or grandma :)
all i have to write about korea so far are fragments. nothing is cohesive or seamless. yet. we are forever swimming, trying to keep afloat, searcing in vain for land. but out of such maddening chaos comes a strength that i wouldn't trade comfort for. this is a new reality, a new normal, a new way of life. this is already transforming us, forcing us into deeper humility, longer patience, heavier grace.
i can't easily explain all the various pieces of my life here. so, i think i'll try to make a list.
things i love:
1. that i am here with my fearless, hilarious, thoughtful husband. it's such a good feeling to know that i can come home to him each night. we seem to have an unwaivering security and happiness in our marriage, and that makes everything else in life so much sweeter. plus, in this new country, i've seen so many new aspects of his character - his leadership abilities have been so apparent in all these new situations. and he still cracks me up all the time.
2. our new hodge-podge collection of friends. i have never had such a wide variety of personalities to hang out with. we are a mismatched, odd group of foriegners, but we are banded together here in our shared experiences as teachers. we remind each other that we are not actually losing our minds, and it's good to be a part of a group.
3. the food. most is relatively healthy, and it's such fun to try new things. i've come to really enjoy rice cakes, sundubu jigae (a spicy, seafood & tofu soup), bulgogi, and i love love love all the korean grills. it doesn't hurt that eating out is crazy cheap as well.
4. the kids. there are some bad students, but there are so many sincere, naiive respectful kids as well. and the little ones in their purple or yellow framed glasses? they'll melt your heart.
5. the mountains. the greenery. just outside of our city there is so much natural beauty, it's such a welcome break from the flat farmland that makes up the midwest back home. there are rolling hills and mountains everywhere and once you get out of the city you realize how peaceful and traquil korea really is.
6. my daily walk to/from school. i may come to loathe this as the weather gets colder, but right now it is blissful, peaceful pefection. i see so much on my walks, and it also gives me a good 20 minutes there and back to process and digest everything around me. i learn the most about korea as i trudge through tiny markets and around old ladies pulling their rickshaws and collecting plastic bottles. it's like watching a painting come to life, daily.
7. downtown gwangju. this city is really cool. the downtown area has all these small streets jam-packed with boutiques, coffeeshops, restaurants, etc. most everything downtown is locally owned, and there is so much character from one place to the next. at night it is lit up so bright you feel like it's mid-afternoon. walking down here on a friday night makes you feel like you're actually a part of the city, and not an outsider looking in.
8. chonnam university backgate. our neighborhood. it is so awesome. it's lively and full of college kids and cheap eateries and well over 30 coffeeshops. our neighborhood has a maze of streets to explore and the school has a track that we can run/walk around near a big pond and some lovely greenery. we can see mudeung mountain out our window, along with endless skyscrapers. as we've seen where some of our friends live, we are so thankful to be an area that is right in the midst of it all.
9. the coffeeshops. there are more coffeeshops here than i have ever seen in my life. and each one takes great care to create incredible atmosphere. some have fake trees inside of them, others are lined with christmas lights and comfy couches with colorful pillows. the coffee may be expensive, but they're the perfect place to sit back and people-watch, lesson plan, or read a book.
10. the "newness." this encompasses all those quirky, uniquely korean details that i uncover on a daily basis. customs, traditions, clothing, music (k-pop, anyone), the way my teachers interact with each other, proper bus etiquette, and the list goes on. i am a learner here, trying to soak it all in. my understanding seems to broaden daily, and along with it i think i see more of the character of God - of His HUGEness, of His vast creativity and love and artistic display through a people group that i have never ineracted with before.
things that drive me crazy
1. not being able to communicate. at all. ever. i can't order food at a restaurant properly. i can't buy something properly. i can't ask where the bus station is or if i can get a room at a hotel. i feel like a mute, or a baby. this has been extremely humbling, and we've still managed to do a great deal within these limitations, but i'm ready to start figuring out korean. our language classes started a few days ago, so hopefully this will subside.
2. the mosquitoes. this is a frustration that might just be personal to me - for some reason, i seem to have a freakish allergic reaction to their bites. for me, it ends up feeling like a cross between poison ivy and a bee sting. the bites swell up like crazy, hurt like crazy, itch like crazy. and the mozzies seem to love to eat me all the more because of it. i wake up in the morning with swollen bites on my forehead, neck, cheek, arm, ankle, etc. i'm going to start bathing in bug spray. its miserable.
3. the haters. not sure what else to call this category. for some reason, some koreans don't like the foriegners coming into their country. this is one of the most closed-off, homogenus societies in the world, and a lot of them want to keep it that way. it's mostly older folks on my walk - i catch their eye and almost dissolve into a puddle of tears on the concrete because of their razor sharp glare. one lady even spit in front of me. today, actually, a little boy ran up to me and made the meanest, angriest face accompanied by a growl. i want to say to them "hey. wait a second. you don't know me! i'm actually a really nice person." but i can't say that (see frustration #1). so i usually just look startled, and then walk on.
4. missing. missing food. missing comforts. missing iowa in the fall. missing friends. missing family (distance magnifies). my grandpa had a little health scare recently, and it was the most helpless feeling in the world to be so far away. i wanted to drop everything and run home. i could barely teach. i can live with the missing the foods/comforts, but it's also hard seeing friends lives continue on without me there to be a part of the fun. i'm still very afraid that we'll come back home after all this time away, and we won't know where we fit in anymore. we won't have any core group of friends, like we did when we left. this is where i have to pray and trust. if we're called to be here now, then we'll stay, and leave all the rest of it in His hands.
5. being too big. being told that i'm too big/tall/long. trying to sit down at the cafeteria and bruising my knees on the incredibly low table. trying to sit down at my desk and jamming my knees again. leaning over, all the time. standing out, all the time. standing out for being blond. standing out for being massively tall. standing out for being western. this frustration is forcing me to grow. it's forcing me to be okay in my own skin. to embrace who i am, who God created me to be. it's forcing me to quit being so self-conscious and shy. it's forcing me to play volleyball. as much as i hate it sometimes, i know i need to grow up in this area. it's long overdue.
thats about it for the frustrations list. i don't want to force myself to think of negative things. overall, it's been a continued adventure. it's been crazy and overwhelming, but also beautiful and vivid. it really is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something david and i will share until we're old and gray. i never wanted the road most travelled.
all i have to write about korea so far are fragments. nothing is cohesive or seamless. yet. we are forever swimming, trying to keep afloat, searcing in vain for land. but out of such maddening chaos comes a strength that i wouldn't trade comfort for. this is a new reality, a new normal, a new way of life. this is already transforming us, forcing us into deeper humility, longer patience, heavier grace.
i can't easily explain all the various pieces of my life here. so, i think i'll try to make a list.
things i love:
1. that i am here with my fearless, hilarious, thoughtful husband. it's such a good feeling to know that i can come home to him each night. we seem to have an unwaivering security and happiness in our marriage, and that makes everything else in life so much sweeter. plus, in this new country, i've seen so many new aspects of his character - his leadership abilities have been so apparent in all these new situations. and he still cracks me up all the time.
2. our new hodge-podge collection of friends. i have never had such a wide variety of personalities to hang out with. we are a mismatched, odd group of foriegners, but we are banded together here in our shared experiences as teachers. we remind each other that we are not actually losing our minds, and it's good to be a part of a group.
3. the food. most is relatively healthy, and it's such fun to try new things. i've come to really enjoy rice cakes, sundubu jigae (a spicy, seafood & tofu soup), bulgogi, and i love love love all the korean grills. it doesn't hurt that eating out is crazy cheap as well.
4. the kids. there are some bad students, but there are so many sincere, naiive respectful kids as well. and the little ones in their purple or yellow framed glasses? they'll melt your heart.
5. the mountains. the greenery. just outside of our city there is so much natural beauty, it's such a welcome break from the flat farmland that makes up the midwest back home. there are rolling hills and mountains everywhere and once you get out of the city you realize how peaceful and traquil korea really is.
6. my daily walk to/from school. i may come to loathe this as the weather gets colder, but right now it is blissful, peaceful pefection. i see so much on my walks, and it also gives me a good 20 minutes there and back to process and digest everything around me. i learn the most about korea as i trudge through tiny markets and around old ladies pulling their rickshaws and collecting plastic bottles. it's like watching a painting come to life, daily.
7. downtown gwangju. this city is really cool. the downtown area has all these small streets jam-packed with boutiques, coffeeshops, restaurants, etc. most everything downtown is locally owned, and there is so much character from one place to the next. at night it is lit up so bright you feel like it's mid-afternoon. walking down here on a friday night makes you feel like you're actually a part of the city, and not an outsider looking in.
8. chonnam university backgate. our neighborhood. it is so awesome. it's lively and full of college kids and cheap eateries and well over 30 coffeeshops. our neighborhood has a maze of streets to explore and the school has a track that we can run/walk around near a big pond and some lovely greenery. we can see mudeung mountain out our window, along with endless skyscrapers. as we've seen where some of our friends live, we are so thankful to be an area that is right in the midst of it all.
9. the coffeeshops. there are more coffeeshops here than i have ever seen in my life. and each one takes great care to create incredible atmosphere. some have fake trees inside of them, others are lined with christmas lights and comfy couches with colorful pillows. the coffee may be expensive, but they're the perfect place to sit back and people-watch, lesson plan, or read a book.
10. the "newness." this encompasses all those quirky, uniquely korean details that i uncover on a daily basis. customs, traditions, clothing, music (k-pop, anyone), the way my teachers interact with each other, proper bus etiquette, and the list goes on. i am a learner here, trying to soak it all in. my understanding seems to broaden daily, and along with it i think i see more of the character of God - of His HUGEness, of His vast creativity and love and artistic display through a people group that i have never ineracted with before.
things that drive me crazy
1. not being able to communicate. at all. ever. i can't order food at a restaurant properly. i can't buy something properly. i can't ask where the bus station is or if i can get a room at a hotel. i feel like a mute, or a baby. this has been extremely humbling, and we've still managed to do a great deal within these limitations, but i'm ready to start figuring out korean. our language classes started a few days ago, so hopefully this will subside.
2. the mosquitoes. this is a frustration that might just be personal to me - for some reason, i seem to have a freakish allergic reaction to their bites. for me, it ends up feeling like a cross between poison ivy and a bee sting. the bites swell up like crazy, hurt like crazy, itch like crazy. and the mozzies seem to love to eat me all the more because of it. i wake up in the morning with swollen bites on my forehead, neck, cheek, arm, ankle, etc. i'm going to start bathing in bug spray. its miserable.
3. the haters. not sure what else to call this category. for some reason, some koreans don't like the foriegners coming into their country. this is one of the most closed-off, homogenus societies in the world, and a lot of them want to keep it that way. it's mostly older folks on my walk - i catch their eye and almost dissolve into a puddle of tears on the concrete because of their razor sharp glare. one lady even spit in front of me. today, actually, a little boy ran up to me and made the meanest, angriest face accompanied by a growl. i want to say to them "hey. wait a second. you don't know me! i'm actually a really nice person." but i can't say that (see frustration #1). so i usually just look startled, and then walk on.
4. missing. missing food. missing comforts. missing iowa in the fall. missing friends. missing family (distance magnifies). my grandpa had a little health scare recently, and it was the most helpless feeling in the world to be so far away. i wanted to drop everything and run home. i could barely teach. i can live with the missing the foods/comforts, but it's also hard seeing friends lives continue on without me there to be a part of the fun. i'm still very afraid that we'll come back home after all this time away, and we won't know where we fit in anymore. we won't have any core group of friends, like we did when we left. this is where i have to pray and trust. if we're called to be here now, then we'll stay, and leave all the rest of it in His hands.
5. being too big. being told that i'm too big/tall/long. trying to sit down at the cafeteria and bruising my knees on the incredibly low table. trying to sit down at my desk and jamming my knees again. leaning over, all the time. standing out, all the time. standing out for being blond. standing out for being massively tall. standing out for being western. this frustration is forcing me to grow. it's forcing me to be okay in my own skin. to embrace who i am, who God created me to be. it's forcing me to quit being so self-conscious and shy. it's forcing me to play volleyball. as much as i hate it sometimes, i know i need to grow up in this area. it's long overdue.
thats about it for the frustrations list. i don't want to force myself to think of negative things. overall, it's been a continued adventure. it's been crazy and overwhelming, but also beautiful and vivid. it really is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something david and i will share until we're old and gray. i never wanted the road most travelled.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
blurs
and just like that, our orientation is done. tomorrow, we get on buses and go to our cities. we meet our co-teachers, see our apartments (FINALLY), and visit our schools. here is where the rubber hits the road, and i am so ready. i am excited to get out there and experience korea. to start living my life here and to start teaching. the orientation has been awesome and necessary, but there's still so much unknown, and the only way to get answers is to start trying.
tonight was our closing ceremony. EPIK brought in the most massively long buffet that i have ever seen in my life. there was so much delicious food. then, there was a talent show (our class sang "Stand by Me" in 3 different languages) full of dancing and goofing off. afterwards, a handful of us went out to a seedy little bar full of paper lanterns and ordered pitchers of kiwi soju. sitting around chatting and laughing, i started to feel really comfortable. looking around the table at all the fascinating new personalities, i felt like the potential for adventures and friendships to develop and grow in gwangju is great, and i'm looking forward to how it all will pan out. off to sleep now, big day tomorrow!
tonight was our closing ceremony. EPIK brought in the most massively long buffet that i have ever seen in my life. there was so much delicious food. then, there was a talent show (our class sang "Stand by Me" in 3 different languages) full of dancing and goofing off. afterwards, a handful of us went out to a seedy little bar full of paper lanterns and ordered pitchers of kiwi soju. sitting around chatting and laughing, i started to feel really comfortable. looking around the table at all the fascinating new personalities, i felt like the potential for adventures and friendships to develop and grow in gwangju is great, and i'm looking forward to how it all will pan out. off to sleep now, big day tomorrow!
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