South Korea: the Finale.

On a long hike today, I had some time to disconnect and think about what I need/want to do to bring this amazing year in Korea to its bittersweet but necessary close. And like any Human Services graduate, I came to the obvious conclusion that I wanted to write about what I had ultimately learned. You know. Bring out the highlights. Put the monsters to rest. Call out the stuff I said that, after living here longer, I disagree with now.

Anyone who had the opportunity to ask me about my Korea trip one year ago would get psyched-out, pumped up answers from my plastered-on-smile face as I listed off all the reasons why I needed to go abroad (and even a few reasons as to why I wanted to). If any of those people got the opportunity to talk at length about my trip, they might see my mask come down and they might even get the impression (correctly) that I was scared shitless to go on this year adventure basically alone.

I can sum up the first 3 months of my trip in one story.

Sitting on the plane to Korea, awaiting take-off, I was in a state of shock. Everything was blurry and moving too fast, and although I was running on less then 3 hours of sleep in 2 days, the cause of my symptoms was not sleep deprivation, but utter fear. Until I left, it was easy to pretend I was just going on a vacation. As soon as the plane took off the ground, I began to sob. Do you know how silent take-offs are? It's like an unspoken agreement everyone has, lest the plane goes plummeting mid-ascent. The worst part about my particular circumstance was the seating arrangement itself. Sitting in the emergency exit row, I happened to be face-to-face with a Korean flight attendant. Strapped into my seat, I had nowhere to hide this incredibly vulnerable moment, and found it difficult to avoid eye contact with the young woman less than 3 feet away from me.

Hours later, after my episode came to its end and [I desperately hoped] everyone had forgotten about it, I needed my reading glasses. Because of our emergency exit row seating, my bag had been moved to the overhead compartment of the section in front of us, which happened to be Business Class (where none of us Economy Class dare tread). I asked a flight attendant if I could retrieve my bag and she offered to help. While we were one section up, me rifling through my things, she asked me a question that made me realize who I was standing next to.

"So, is this your first time away from home?"

It was the flight attendant from the take-off. Oh God. Fortunately, she was the nicest and most caring person who could've seen me filling enough clear little plastic cups with tears to serve my entire row. Although her sweetness and curiousity did ultimately reduce me to tears again, it was a really touching lesson in common culture and humanity. And an even bigger lesson in humility.

My first experiences here were of discomfort. I had no bed for almost a week's worth of time my first month. I didn't feel competent at my job because, with everything in Korean, I couldn't even use the computer. I accidentally ordered disgusting food I had to eat, and didn't know which way to place my chopsticks on the table when I was done eating it. I bought aviator shades because I didn't like people looking at my blue eyes. I continued to cry.

Fortunately, the feelings of 'home' started to seep in slowly as I taught myself to become literate, found some favorite restaurants, and learned to accept the workplace as a wild atmosphere where anything was possible. I was scared to say it to myself, but I actually felt confident. By the time the holidays came around, I was able to hold in tears when teachers asked me if I missed my family (by the way, asking that question to foreigners abroad should be considered a form of torture and banned globally).

Then the Christmas package came from my family and I realized how I truly feel about gifts: they're only worth receiving if you have someone to watch the joy they've brought you as you open them. Sitting alone in my apartment, I opened my Christmas presents and vowed to never be by myself for the holidays again.

Meanwhile, being a foreigner means accumulating about 1,095,807 friends you will meet for God-knows-how-long and then promptly never see again. This was becoming a recognizable pattern in my life and on a New Years' trip in Seoul, it finally clicked that we have to truly make the most of the moments life offers us and not ask for more. I can honestly say that learning this and encouraging myself to live it (because it is definitely not second nature to me) has made me a happier person.

The rest of the year was less about keeping my head above water and more about what I wanted to give myself with the time I had left here (and no, I'm not talking about a new haircut or a wardrobe of Korean clothing). I decided to take full responsibility for that happiness I knew I could now cultivate. I picked up a new instrument. I took a semester of college classes on Korean language. I saw the friends I wanted to. And most importantly, when something was wrong, I did something about it. I was suddenly starting to feel protective over myself and this 'lonely' life I was leading, and I wasn't about to let someone come in and make me unhappy unless I let them. The funny thing about all the time I spent alone is how 'not alone' I usually felt. This is not to say that we don't all have bouts of the Lonelies sometimes. But for as much time as I had to myself, I was actually enjoying it. For the first time, I was enough.

Now that I am getting ready to leave (which was not the easiest decision ever, to say the least), that nervous, anxious feeling is beginning to creep its way back into my life. I know from experience that can only mean one thing: I consider Korea to be a home. I can't even call it a second home, because it has a different schema of home to me than the place I grew up in. Korea is not only a land I love, but it's the place where I learned to be at home in myself. For that reason and many, many more, Korea will always be especially treasured.

As for being a foreigner, the clock is ticking down to 6 weeks: 3 in Korea, and 3 in South East Asia. As much as I am ready to assimilate at home with the culture I know best, I will miss my role as a foreigner, too. It was a lovely experiment. Sometimes, I was right on-- like diving head-first into a plate of live octopus my 2nd week in Korea. Other times, the lesson was more difficult: it took me a while to realize that, although it's fun to be strange, sometimes there are logical reasons to go with the grain.

Sometimes.

For my own sanity, I am ending my South Korean adventures with this post. A little pre-mature, I know, but that's kind of my style. Not to mention, I earlier promised to post about my upcoming trip and prefer to focus on the details of that at the moment instead of prolonging the end of something so magical.

I want to extend a reallllllly big thank you to everyone who has been such a huge support of my travels this year. Please believe me when I say you have helped me get through some of the biggest personal challenges I've ever had, and from the other side of the world! From those who read my blog for fun, to my Skype and snail mail buddies, to the people who took the time to travel to Korea this year for little ol' me: thank you. Thank you readers, thank you friends, thank you family. My perspective on life has been enriched by you all this year.

As for Playing With Elephants, it is not going anywhere. Please follow me through the cities, jungles and beaches of SE Asia, and wherever life takes Cheengu and I afterward. When I'm not on the move internationally, the blog will take a rest as well. But never fear-- I'm always looking for the next adventure.

From the girl who conquered Korea (and her little elephant, too)--
Laura and Cheengu

"See you next time, bye bye!"

The title of this post is dedicated to the scripted close of every English Broadcast I have (airing Wednesday mornings at 9am through my whole school). I love and hate this greeting because often students will use it in a caricature-ish fashion to say goodbye to me. However, when I found myself faced with my last week of regular classes, I found I couldn't say "goodbye" and opted for this cliche'd expression instead, much to the delight of my students.

 My lucky penny idea went off without a hitch. In fact, many teachers also wanted their own 'lucky penny'. It's a full-blown fad over here at Yaksa Elementary! I also found the whole venture to be somewhat lucrative:

Fortunately the only person to openly cry my last week was me (hidden in my office of course!... crying is for wimps and losers!*), although I did have a lot of dejected-looking kids come up to me, or, with furrowed brow, ask me if they would see me next week. No matter how much I explained I still have a few weeks at Yaksa, the 'last class' thing really got to them.

The great thing about being a kid is that what seems sad now will be forgotten in a matter of minutes or days. Sure, they will remember me, but once the buzz of summer vacation hits (and then shortly after, the new foreign teacher comes), they won't be sad anymore.

Some of my students asked for my email. I gave it to them and have already received two in my inbox.

This one made me particularly happy that I didn't give all my students an email address to contact. I want to be able to respond properly to these kids if they get in touch, instead of feeling overwhelmed with a short burst of 'fan mail' I never reply to.

Lastly, one thing I worked really hard to do was have some Yaksa students sign a t-shirt for me. I started this process about 3 weeks ago, bringing in a plain white tee and asking kids to write whatever they wanted, or draw pictures, too. Signing t-shirts is not common in Korea (unless you are a celebrity autographing one), so my students found this to be really fun and special, and I felt the same knowing secretly that it was a parting gift they were making for me. By the end things got pretty detailed:

I still have 4 weeks left in Korea: 1 devoted to deskwarming (creative posts sure to follow this week!); 1 for Yaksa camp; 2 for low-level classes. However, with regular classes out of the way, things are definitely starting to wrap up.

So as they (and by 'they' I mean 'I') say, "See you next time... bye bye!"

-Laura Teacher



*This is just what I told myself while holding a fan to my face so I can get to the next class without tearing up. I'm my own emotion ninja.

"Boryeong's magical mud cures the everyday case of dry skin, sanity and sobriety", says random foreigner.

This weekend, another first I wanted to experience before my departure from South Korea: getting slicked-up at the Boryeong Mud Festival.

According to my Wiki-ing, this is the 14th annual celebration of Boryeong's healthy, clay-based mud to advertise beauty products made from a local, organic company. What better way to sell something than with free samples? Better yet, what better way to sell something than with mud slides, beach access, and loads of alcohol at the ready? I don't know of many.

We left with a small group of foreigners very early Saturday morning for the 5-hour bus ride from Ulsan to Boryeong. After checking into the pension nearby, we were ready for action and made our way to the beach!

I never experienced a traditional frat-style 'Spring Break', but after this weekend I'm pretty sure any potential desires to join in on one in the future were prematurely fulfilled. People really didn't hold anything back. In fact, for as excited as I was all month to attend this festival, as soon as I stepped off the bus I felt immediately uncomfortable. To be greeted by a sight like this when you are completely clean is really awkward.

Thankfully, the weather soon changed into an all-out monsoon and we were able to get messy enough to talk ourselves into getting muddy. After that, we fit right in!

We also found plenty of time to lay on the beach and go swimming. Cheen-gu also liked hanging out with us.

So what does one bring to a mud festival?

1. Camera (waterproof if possible; if not, wrapped in plastic or inside a ziploc)
2. Money
3. Phone
4. Optional but useful: towel and extra plastic bags for wet/muddy clothes
5. Sunglasses
6. Sunscreen

One extra item we found almost necessary by the end of the weekend were 'wet bags', designed specifically to hold small personal items (see numbers 1-3) in a completely water-proof bag with attachable lanyard for around your neck.

Oh, and you might want to bring some courage too... of the liquid and/or mental variety. This crowd demands it.

Don't be afraid.

Living in a crowded city, you're bound to hear all kinds of noises at night. Traffic. Cats fighting. Drunken serenades. I myself have suspicions of the world's largest copier/washing machine/wave-making bed/ iron lung that resides in the apartment above me and makes a strange yet monotonous sound all night long. These things we put up with because we live in a city of millions.

However, there are some things we should not put up with.

Tonight I heard some men yelling outside my bathroom window, which faces an alley. Normally I wouldn't think much of it, but after about 15 minutes it was more than noticable, and I realized that other neighbors were stepping outside to tell the two men to pipe down. As I tried to peer through the incredibly tall window, a third voice came on the scene-- a woman's-- and that's when things started to get really ugly. I couldn't understand everything, but she was yelling "Stop it! Stop it! Don't do that!" in Korean, and the men's voices only seemed to be escalating.

I was a little more than disturbed, and a little more than a LOT bothered by the fact that I felt powerless to call for help.

I was encouraged by another rad traveler (whom I happened to be talking to at the time) to call the police anyway. 112 is the number for the Ulsan Police, and although there weren't any people on staff at the time for English, we made it work. By the time the police got to the area, the scene had calmed down (which homefully is evidence that the fight also ended, but I'm not sure).

My main point, to whoever is involved or wherever you are, is to not be afraid to call. Even though the officer only knew how to say "policeman" to me, we worked with what we could and I was really impressed to see them respond so well, and so fast (and so patiently as I stumbled over myself in broken Korean).

You can do this, too. And although we know it's the 'right' thing to do, it's often overlooked at how it's not the 'easy' thing to do. When it comes down to it, no matter our reasoning for adhering to the Bystander's Effect, the bottom line is this: if you don't do it, who will?

The Business Trip.

I made this on xtranormal.com last night to summarize the typical 'Oh, so you want to leave school during your working hours?' conversation.



You can find other xtranormal videos about teaching in Korea on youtube as well, made by many a perplexed Guest English Teacher just trying to cope with humor.

Bucket List: South Korea

When I first came to Korea, there were an overwhelming amount of things I wanted to experience, but they were all pretty vague. Things like, "try the food" or are inevitable, but what kinds and where and how are all another story. So now I'm making it that much easier for you, should you ever find yourself in the good ol' ROK.

In the year I've lived here, I can safely say that I have done (or considered, or wanted to, or have heard great things about) all the items on this list. Some are tourism-based, and some are made for the average day out. Try them all if you dare, and you just might know what the real Korea is like.


Go to an outdoor market.
My one constant I try to do in every new country is visit an outdoor market. This is where the people are. This is where their food is coming from. This is what makes the smells, sounds and tastes of their community. This experience also shows just how different our cultures are because the way animal rights and food safety are viewed can be a whole different concept in another country. Look for a 시장 (shi-jang) and allow yourself to be impressed, surprised and even a little grossed out at what you see (remembering, of course, that it's not better or worse-- only different).

I've seen many an outdoor market in Korea, but my favorite was the Jicalgchi Fish Market in Busan. Both a great representation of culture and traditional commerce as well as an intense market-ing experience.

Use a squatter toilet.
Because all the Koreans (and the majority of the non-Western world) do it.

Noraebang the night away.
Also known as a "singing room", 노래방 (norae-bang) is a pretty unique experience, and a really fun one at that! You can buy snacks and drinks inside, so pile in with your friends and belt out a few tunes (English and Korean songs are available in every norae-bang so no worries about not knowing Korean, either!).

Go to a traditional Korean restaurant.
They're cheaper AND generally taste better. If you want to try something pretty basic, go with 비빔밥 (bi-bim-bap). If you're more daring, go for some 낙지 (nak-ji). Either way, a traditional meal will bring you a million little flavors in tiny bowls, so you can try a plethora of dishes without wasting a ton of food. Anything you don't like, wash down with 소주 (soju) and you'll forget all about it in no time.

Listen to k-pop.
Listen to it live if you can. If not, go a night club and see it implemented in the middle of a drunken crowd well past midnight.

Watch a live sports game.
If not for the actual sport, then to see and hear the Koreans chanting fight songs. It's amazing.

See some lanterns.
If you are in Korea during the spring, there are celebrations all over the country for Buddha's birthday. In Seoul, annual festivals are held where lanterns of all kinds line the streets, and temples are decorated in colored paper, looking realllly magical at night.

Get dirty.
Another festival Korea is famous for is the mud festival, occuring in early to mid-July. Because who doesn't love to get a little muddy? Want to see the foreigner scene during this event? Check out the beaches in 볼영 (Boryeong) the second weekend of July.

Fireworks festival.
In Busan every October, the International Fireworks Festival rules the beach for a weekend.

Visit Jeju.
USA: Honolulu :: Korea: Jeju Island.

In other words, Jeju is not only a honeymooner's perfect love nest, but also a tropical paradise. Catch it if you can.

Stand atop a tall tower.
There's almost one in every major city: Seoul, Busan, Daegu... the list goes on. You can see almost the whole city from up high. How's that for getting the lay of the land?

Ride the bus.
The organization and chaos go so hand-in-hand that it's just as easy to get where you're going as it is to be completely lost. Take an easy route and hold on tight.

Let yourself bump into an old person on the street.
... if they don't bump into you first.

Go to a Korean wedding.
If you really want to see some cultural differences, say "YES" when a Korean friend asks you to go to a wedding.

Visit an amusement park.
Not only are rollercoaster awesome, but there are a few rides you definitely won't find anywhere else in the world sitting inside South Korea. Don't expect Disneyland quality, but don't expect Disneyland prices, either (or Disneyland lines).

Watch the sunrise in 젼동진 (Jeondongjin).
It's the first place the sun hits Korea in the morning, and supposedly the most beautiful sunrises you will see in the ROK.

Watch the sunset in 볼영 (Boryeong).
Or any other west-coast city of Korea, really. Or from your 5-story roof. It's all the same; sunsets can be pretty beautiful here.

Ride the KTX.
Because bullet trains are one method of transportation the Westernized world has just not got its hands on yet, and it's miraculous.

Buy some outrageous Korean fashion item and wear it in public. See how nobody cares.
This could be a really short skirt, a top with a ruffled collar, a silly headband, a plush animal hat, or matching couples attire. You'll be surprised how you actually fit right in.

Snap some shots in a photo booth.
You'll be happy you did.

Visit the DMZ.
This is definitely a tour-group-type-thing, but if you go with the USO you will have an excellent and safe tour. History buffs will love it. Photographers will love it. Little kids will not love it, so if you're a family hire a sitter to take the tikes to Everland while you trod to the border.



Any additions to the South Korea Bucket List?
Please comment in the space below!

DIY: Self-confidence for students.

I know that being a good teacher isn't about giving things to your students; being a good teacher is about getting students to think for themselves so they can lead a capable and sustainable life. We can't just give them answers, or ideas, or things. They have to cultivate their own learning from the seeds we plant.

But I'm also the kind of teacher who, now that there are only 2 weeks left in public school, wants to bribe her students into remembering her. Or at least leave them with something special.

However, calculating it out, I have 22 classes weekly with about 30-32 students each.

22 classes x 30 to 32 kids = OVER 660 STUDENTS.

Soooo getting them all Rolex wristwatches certainly isn't an option.

What's cheap, cultural to the US, and not candy, which will be eaten within a day and quickly forgotten about? What's something they will want to keep, without breaking my budget?

And then I had an idea.

With the concept of 'lucky pennies' being foreign to Koreans, I thought this was a really good opportunity to give them all a little US money. After making a template, printing them on colored paper, and cutting them all out, I glued these pieces of paper to pennies sent over by my mom (thanks again, Mom!).

Cheap. Cultural. Fun.

Colored lights, bubbles, and a plastic cake: A Korean Wedding Story.

This weekend I finally got the opportunity to attend a modern Korean wedding. Although I was told many times this year by co-teachers and other Korean natives that this celebration pales in comparison to a traditional Korean wedding, I was still really curious to see what it would be like.

Thanks to my friend, Christy, who invited me to a wedding a teacher at her school was having, my curiousity was definitely satisfied, although this event has left me in a slight state of confusion and shock.

We arrived at the hotel where the wedding and reception were to take place. The first thing we were prompted to do was meet the bride. We turned the corner down a crowded hallway to see this tiny yet utterly lavished room designed specifically for the bride to sit and have photos taken with visiting guests. She looked like a Korean princess who just happened to have been placed in the middle of all the chaos: people running around, bringing in flowers, exchanging envelopes, getting meal tickets. We [awkwardly] snapped a couple of photos with her and waited for the wedding to start.

When I walked into the venue where the ceremony would take place, I was pretty amazed. Music bumping, people chatting, and the officiator was getting ready at the front, atop a huge platform-esque pulpit. Not to mention an adorable photo slideshow of the couple and the moving-and-color-changing rainbow lights, which added a certain Korea-ness that is wholly unique. Finally, the main feature-- the aisle-- which looked more like a model runway than anything I've ever seen at a wedding in the States. Lined by lights and raised about 6 inches off the ground, I suddenly became really excited for the wedding to begin. Fashion show! Fashion show!... I mean... wedding?

When the wedding party (no brides and groomsmen at this wedding) came out, there was one person designated to be the official 'toucher-upper' of hair, jackets, and the bride's dress, of course. This upped her 'princess' status quite a bit in my eyes.

For all the pomp, there didn't seem to be much reciprocation from the audience... I mean, er... the guests. Korean culture, even after living here for almost a year, still shocks me quite a bit. During the ceremony, there were full-fledged discussions being held by those in attendance. People answered their phones. And once the officiator began talking, many people (including our small group) left the ceremony room in favor of going somewhere else to sit down and wait until the next portion.

Um.... what?

Usually when I observe another culture, it's just that: an observation. As in, from far away, where I can feel removed from the scenario. Today tested my cultural competency in a way it's not usually tested because I was a true part of the schenenagains going on. And as much as Chsirty and I giggled to one another and wondered what the heck was going on, we also tried to keep a poker face about it and pretend that leaving a wedding ceremony in the middle because it got 'boring' is perfectly normal.

We were beckoned back to the service by the alluring sound of this man's voice as he sang to the newlyweds about getting married:

And later, after cutting the cake (which seemed to be only symbolic; not only did we not eat wedding cake at the wedding, but the bottom two layers of the 'cake' were actually plastic!), bowing to the parents and offering a 'thanks' to all the guests, the bride and groom proceeded back down the aisle as husband and wife. Their first challenge as a married couple: making it through the haze of bubbles, fake snow, and fire-crackers aimed at their faces... and coming out alive.

The final blow to rock all my paradigms about marriage ceremonies was that in Korea there is no dancing at the reception. None at all. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Congratulations to the lovely young couple! It was a beautiful wedding, and it definitely shook up my world a little. All in all, I do love Korea, but I'm glad that getting married here isn't in the cards for me. Some cultural ideas we just can't give up.

How to send a hug in the mail.

It's as simple as that.

Just a testament to all the amazing things you can do for someone,
even if they're far away.
Thank you, Kate!

K-pop Friday.

For all the months I've been here, my blog has-- strangely-- managed to be almost devoid of Korean music. Considering how high I put music on the list of life-influencing factors, it's time to let you all in on the emotionally fascinating music that is K-pop.

Unlike pop in the States which focuses on gettin' crunk or scoring ladies, the heart throbs that run the K-pop kingdom seem to have different agendas. Performer 'Beast' (stage name 'B2ST') sings the summer single 'Fiction' with an angst I can only call dedicated.

"I can't believe the fact that you are leaving me... I will re-write the story of you and I."

My 6th grade girls love B2ST in a fanatical way only pre-teens can love a pop idol. In fact, my Korean co-teacher jokes that he should get a B2ST face mask so they will focus better on their English lesson. Not a bad idea, considering I find "BEAST" written all over their desks after class.




On another note, my co-teacher shared this video with me today. I'm not familiar with the artist or the song, but I thought it was a really good representation of the unique style and feel Korea has in their pop music videos. Sharp, colorful and modern, borderlining on freaky.



Happy Friday to those near and far!

Photojournalist Shot of the Day.

It's been a while. Like I said: not a photojournalist. Otherwise I'd have to fire myself for posting such an out-dated photo. Still, it was a pretty magical catch.

A woman wears Hanbok, traditional Korean attire,
and bows to honor Buddha's Birthday, May 5th in Seoul.

Extra credits.

By now, dear readers, you have become familiar with the English program I teach in Korea. Maybe even a little too familiar.  And being the Guest Engligh Teacher, I guess I can't really help it. But the Korean public school system actually offers elementary school students some really interesting subjects aside from the basic courses such as Korean, English or math, and I think our own home countries could really benefit from implementing them.

First is Ethics. In Korea, even students as young as elementary-age learn how to deal with dilemmas ethically and think critically. With the rise of technology (and especially in Korea where kids of all ages have easier access to the internet and other privileges), it is really crucial to have students aware of issues that can affect their daily lives, such as anonyminity online. Another part of the Ethics course is to examine the North Korean language-- which differs slightly from the South Korean language-- to prepare for re-unification. When I asked my co-teachers how they know so much about the North Korean language (since NK has that whole "I'm not speaking to you" attitude most of the time), they said that people examine the news broadcasts and assess the language differences from there. Fascinating.

Another class that my school is particularly proud of (and one that really impresses me) is our Safety program. Next to the English lab, we have an entire area dedicated to learning all kind of safety precautions, including CPR, fire safety, and how to drive a car through arcade-style simulations. The other day, someone left it unlocked and this waygook took the perfect opportunity to snap a couple shots of all the glory that is this room.

I'd like to note that kids in Korea cannot get a drivers' license until they're at least 18, but most people wait until they're well into their 20's. Still, it's good for kids to know about traffic laws, and be familiar with driving in the event of an emergency!

That beaming firefighter's name is Sappy. She and her male counterpart, Happy, are about to put out the fire in that burning building. I walk past this wall poster about 49812450 times every day.

When I see amazing programs like this in place for students in Korea, I wonder what we could be doing better for our young minds in the States if not providing them with the skills to be safe and think critically about their world. I think Happy and Sappy would agree.

Hope in sight for all us veggies in a veggie-less world.

Among the laundry list of things that makes me different from Koreans is the fact that I came here vegetarian.

..."came here vegetarian" being the operative phrase.

I found it really difficult to go by without eating meat here. Even things that seem to not have meat in them will often come with diced ham or other little shreds of beef. I can't tell you how many times I've had this conversation with a local (in both English and Korean):

Me: Does this have meat in it?


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner: No, do you want meat?


Me: No. Please no meat. I don't eat meat.


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner:  ...................


Me: (pointing to menu or saying the name of the dish over and over and making a huge 'X' symbol with my arms) This, meat, no. Meat, no. Meat... NO.


Waiter/co-teacher/Shop owner: Ok, ok.

... and 15 minutes later, I have a wonderful dish of meat-filled food.

My reasoning for not eating meat is multi-faceted, but the main pillar is because of factory farming (by the way, if you are reading this and haven't watched Food Inc. yet, you are virtually and morally obligated to do so by the end of the week). I asked my co-teachers about what countries export their meat to Korea, and was disappointed to find that the US is on this list. In short: the factory-farmed meat I want to avoid in the States is now travelling a further distance than before, makng it even less sustainable than it already was.

Although I do know (and seriously commend) a few vegetarians living here as foreign teachers, the fact is that, for me, I would be less comfortable eating absolutely NO meat because of my school staff and Korean friends. Sometimes, there is no meat-less option, and at least by eating chicken I have the ability to chew on something whilst sitting around with those who have a full pallete to work with. This is not my country. For me, it just seems polite.

A bummer? Sure. I would rather be vegetarian. And sometimes I even feel a little frustrated about what I  can only refer to as being "force-fed meat" (see the example conversation, above). But sometimes that's part of cultural competency, especially in a professional atmosphere. It wasn't a choice I was thrilled about, but since I have only been vegetarian for a couple years, it was a change my body could make to better adapt to the life I have here.

However, I did find this yesterday, through a fellow foreign teacher, and thought it was definitely worth sharing:

Aeris Kitchen is a recipe blog that has a Korean cooking component for [lacto ovo] vegetarian dishes. Despite the content of this post, I do want to make it clear that there are vegetarian options here on occasion, and they are pretty basic (and thus easy to make). Aeris Kitchen makes it easy to find and re-create vegetarian Korean dishes, whether you are living abroad or back at home. I know I'll be using it when I go back to the States.

UPDATE ON THE VEGGIE FRONT: I don't know what to say, but after TEN months of being at my school and eating in the cafeteria daily, today my co-teacher decided to tell the lunch ladies I don't eat meat. Today. Right before I went to publish this blog post. I had just been eating around the meat and giving the extra to the school staff (very Korean, I know), but now the lunch ladies are replacing my meat with extra veggies. On today of all days. Sometimes, the 'ask and you shall receive' thing totally applies.

Summer just wouldn't be summer without it.

I wanted to write a haiku in honor of this weekend delight, but honestly there is too much going on here to fit it all into a 5-by-7-by-5-syllable format.

No. This is something completely out of all of our leagues.

Let me introduce you to the traditional Korean summertime snack, 팥빙수 (or pat-bing-soo).

Now, upon first look, I kind of wanted to run away. In a typical dish, one could be subject to find:
ice
red beans
fruit
random jelly
rice cake
cereal flakes
and some kind of sweet milk.

To me, it sounds like something the Very Hungry Caterpillar would fantasize about, but it's really just the typical snack Korean use to cool off on those very hot summer days.

This weekend, I knew it was time to girl-up and find me some pat-bing-soo, if for no other reason than to write a blog about how much it weirded me out.

Maybe I've been here too long and will accept red beans in and on anything, but I actually really enjoyed sitting on the floor of my apartment, windows open, eating this thing. And-- even better: since it's not ice cream, I felt absolutely no guilt for eating it all... even if the lady I bought it from did  ask me if I wanted two spoons.

With that mystery solved, it's good to know I can walk down the blazing hot streets of my Korean summer no longer in fear.

Not just the typical, "neener neener neener."

This morning, there was a pretty major incident in one of my 5th grade classrooms. Like any good Guest English Teacher, as soon as I made it to the Teacher's Room, I logged onto Facebook and sent out an SOS via status update into the virtual community:

Upon a first-read, the drama of the situation seems entertaining, almost. And with the language barrier I have between me and the students, it does seem comical to think about how I-- as 1 of 2 adults in the room-- had to sit there and witness the whole thing unfold without contributing whatsoever. Sure, it was scary, but hey, it's one for the books, right? Besides, nobody got hurt. Doesn't that mean we can laugh about it?

The interesting thing is: that's exactly what the students do. This boy had tuned out all verbal and physical commands (clearly just running on Id at this point); his actions, harmful to others and to himself, took learning off the list of priorities as the entire room was concerned for the safety of the group. However, the boys who held him down got up to do so as if it was routine. They grabbed him in big bear hugs and tolerated the kicking and jabbing coming from the perp while another appointed student dashed off to find the homeroom teacher. The rest of the students knew to stay clear.

All in all, it was a pretty organized affair.

What gets me about this situation is that is was so organized and casual, when this boy obviously has pent-up anger and quite possibly needs to see a counselor or use another program outside of public school to receive education. In short: the public school doesn't have enough resources to suit his needs.

This is a very common problem in Korea, as many Guest English Teachers can attest to. There is little the teachers can do, aside from talking to the parents about the issues. When I asked one of my Korean co-teachers about on-site counseling (like, if there is any), she said this (paraphrased):

"Of course. But many parents don't want to take their child [to the school counselor] because they don't want to think their child has a disease. What happened today, it's from a disease, but many parents won't accept that."

This cultural desire to be the same echoes throughout the public school system. Every child is expected to be the same in ability and performance. This is precisely why all subjects are taught by age group (grade), not level of ability. Thus, it's not uncommon to have children who are well above average in your class, bored to pieces; it's equally likely that you will have some students who are below average or dealing with behavioral disorders which have yet to be evaluated. 

And that makes for a pretty interesting class.

A friend of mine also opened my eyes to another perspective on the matter: bullying. Disorder or not, the kids who pick on each other and create fear within an individual or among a group should be considered a bully. Although I felt some sympathy to see the student from this morning return to the English Teachers' room crying his apology to us, I do consider him a threat to his classmates. I assumed, upon coming to Korea, that there would be less bullying here than in the States. However, it's becoming apparent to me that bullying is just as common here as anywhere else, and visa versa.

According to Jae-In Lee (n.d.) from a study on bullying in Korean public schools:

[Those who bullied], in particular-- those who bullied the weak[er-looking students, were] less mature and more distorted in the developmental stage. The students [who] bullied the weak needed to be counseled as much as the bullied.

In a society where success in education is everything, I hope that soon there will be more moderation in the realm of mental health for young children, not only for those who are victimzed by bullying, but for those who throw the first punch. Looking at outward, negative actions as a sign of deeper, unmet needs, and getting parents to accept their child as who they are as opposed to the mold they 'should' fit into could work wonders to relieve Korean students' stress and diminish unhealthy behavior.

And it would sure give those poor chairs a break from being thrown around my 5th grade classroom.

What keeps me coming back.

This week, I sent my first box home. Things I don't need here: winter clothes, souvenirs; maybe even some things I will end up donating upon arrival in Seattle (which makes the value of those donations, thoeoretically, way higher because of shipping costs!... but I digress). Two more boxes sit in my apartment now, open but empty. It is a constant reminder to me of my looming departure. There's excitement as well as sadness; hope as well as anxiety. All in all, it's a happy thing. I may not always like change but boy do I love packing.

It wasn't easy, though-- getting to this point. For those of you who aren't famliar with the system here, my 1-year contract is up for renewal in August. To give the Metropolitan Office of Education enough time to fill my place, they needed to know if I was renewing or not by mid-May. I've never had such a difficult time giving someone a "yes" or "no" answer (and for those of you who really know me, you know that's saying a lot). Nay, there were many times I flip-flopped, debated, and utterly freaked out (which, sadly, happened at least twice). I try to refrain from outright asking for advice; however, I found myself in desperate need of some. Friends and family alike had their take on how to make the call.

Some people suggested a healthy dialog.

Others thought I should make a list.

Some even suggested flipping a coin to see how I felt about the outcome.

After trying everything, I almost found myself more lost than before. I talked myself in circles and flipped a variety of coins (for some reason I thought the type of coin might make a difference), all to no avail. And the list part-- MY typical default-- was the worst one yet! On the "Pros" side were the important, hard-hitting and adult-type aspects:

job security
housing security
relatively low cost of living
amazing health care
continue learning a language
continue traveling

Wow. Well that's the way to shove me out the door.

This is a dillemma that many a Guest English Teacher face in Korea. The fact is that, despite our complaining and serious confusion in this culture at times, the Korean government has made it almost too enticing to leave, especially in this economic climate. That's why many of us stay here after a year, whether we had planned to or not. It attracts all types: people who are trying to save money; couples who want to work and travel; legitimate teachers (the rarer breed); and party-hearty die-hards who can reconcile their lifestyle in a culture that accepts them as both an educator and as a drunken fool.

With all that said, many people ask me why I decided to leave Korea after only 1 year.

I often get asked this question as if there must be something wrong with my situation, like I got shafted on the school/principal combination, or I finally snapped after eating kimchi every day.

The best way to describe why I'm leaving is this: it's about love.

"Love, like truth and beauty, is concrete. Love is not fundamentally a sweet feeling; not, at heart, a matter of sentiment, attachment, or being 'drawn toward.' Love is active, effective, a matter of making reciprocal and mutually beneficial relation with one's friends and enemies.

Love creates righteousness, or justice, here on earth."  --Carter Heyward

We all have to listen to our inner voice. Sometimes the voice inside of us is really loud, and it shouts for us to do something. But sometimes it's quiet and small. That doesn't take away from its value, or mean we can ignore it. We just need to listen closer in order to understand what it's trying to tell us.

The love I have inside of me is to affect change for those who need it. It's not the kind of thing that fills me with rom-com joy, or has a 'happily ever after' tacked onto the end. It's not even something I think could lull me to sleep at night. In fact, that voice screams at me daily to get up and do something for others. But the voice that prompted me to go back to the States was small and scared, because starting over-- even at home-- is difficult.

I was afraid, for a time, that going home meant I was failing myself, like I wasn't able to live across the world alone. What I ended up realizing, after a million coin tosses, 2 lists and an emergency international call to my parents, is that it takes just as much courage to follow your passions at home as it does if you're on the other side of the world.

And now that I know, doesn't that make every day an adventure?

haiku in honor of my afternoon snack, vi.

Ice cream in a bag,

You are my hot, summer joy.

You won't melt on me.

I'll admit-- the first time I laid eyes on these little contraptions, it seemed unnatural. I mean, this is ice cream... if I can't see it, and lick it off a cone, what good is it to me? All it took was one squeeze and I was sold. Not to mention, it's got all the flavor of ice cream but it's not as heavy on the cream. It's becoming blatantly obvious as to how these Koreans stay so flippin' thin.

Summer weather, come swiftly. I gotsta get my ice-cream-in-a-bag on.

Camera G33k

Okay, it's no secret that I'm a really big camera nerd. Also, I love traveling (see 'camera nerd'). So what do you do in a foreign country when your steady and true travel companion-- your Canon or your Nikon-- is in need of repair?

Like, let's say you drop your favorite lens.

Ouch, indeed.

Fortunately, if you live in Ulsan, South Korea, you can take all of your Canon goods to the following service center. As with basically all services I've encountered in Korea, it was relatively inexpensive (even for being a brand servece center) and of course... extremely fast.

From the Jung-gu Home Plus, take bus 127 to the Taehwa Rotary and walk about 1 block down from the bus stop. Look for a bright green building (you will also see Canon signs by this point) and head on up the the 4th floor. All you need to provide is your broken equipment, name and cell phone number. They'll call or text you when it's ready for pick-up.

Good luck to you, travelling photographers!

Sticking to the 'rolling stone' thing, because rolling kimchi just gets chili juice everywhere.

It's time to look forward, and time for another travel announcement, which always start the next chapter of the Playing with Elephants blogging.

In just 2 and a half months, I will be flying from South Korea-- leaving my now-second-home-- to travel Southeast Asia (Cambodia, Vietnam, and a re-visiting experience to Thailand, my first love in Asia) for a few weeks. Then I will be coming back to the Seattle area. To stay put for a bit.

In the coming weeks, I'll post more information about the trip, including travel information I glean along the way. Don't worry; Korea posts will still commence in tandem with the other posting.

If you want to know when I'll be returning to the States, you can click on this handy-dandy countdown timer. You can check it every day if you want. Or every hour. I know you really miss me.

On being 'healthy', cont.

"My school English teacher is so kind and pretty and talented teacher... she like a snow white. But I am ugly. I'm sad. I want a laura teacher face."

I found this in my student's English diary today. She is an advanced student and has a special agreement with me where she writes journal entries and I correct them. She knew I would see this. And it breaks my heart.

This is not just a case of pre-teen self-consciousness. This student's sentiments are not a lone voice in South Korea. In fact, idolization of the 'Western image' has been creeping its way into Asia at an alarming rate for some years now, and having a scary effect on our world's children. Watch the following CNN video, broadcasted just last week, and you'll see what I mean.




I understand that the media has a massive effect on the way we view ourselves, but when it becomes so viral and downright vile that it threatens to wash away the uniqueness of other cultures and turn us into a singular, cloned version of Barbie, isn't it time we take another approach? I know it's easier said than done, but aren't the differences the very things we should be embracing about ourselves? And shouldn't cultures be proud of this, instead of trying to erase them?

At the end of the day, I'm still not sure what to write as a response in my student's diary, with exception of three words:

you are beautiful.

I can only hope that has some effect.