"You use chopsticks very well."

Going out with Korean co-teachers is unlike any dining experience I've ever had.

I don't just mean that in Korea's professional world, it's perfectly acceptable to knock back a few beers or some Soju with your co-workers and hit up the 노래방 (norae-bahng, or singing room) for a little karaoke into the early hours of the morning. Korea tip: if you are ever at a 노래방 with your Korean friends or co-workers, singing anything by ABBA will send the room into a happy, drunk frenzy.

What I'm about to illustrate is a typical dinner night with my co-teachers:


5:20pm- The time dinner is slated for.

6:15pm- The time we get to the restaurant. I want to stress that this is not because Koreans view time as a relative thing (this is not a "it'll get done whenever" culture); this is simply because most of the Koreans I know are so busy I don't actually have proof that they sleep.

6:16pm- We sit at a table with about 2357809 tiny side dishes (mostly vegetables hidden among spicy sauce; sometimes they are unidentifiable as vegetables; sometimes that's because they're meat). As the youngest at the table, I am culturally supposed to pour the water, but I usually don't get the chance (or, yes; sometimes I forget). Food is ordered and I'm never sure exactly what it will be.

6:18pm- The conversation switches between fast-paced Korean, with lots of gestures, laughter, and what I can only describe as 'Korean sounds' (often crucial to story-telling, I'm sure... I just never know what any of it means). I try to follow along but sometimes feel awkward paying complete attention to a conversation everyone knows I don't understand. This is when I analyze the 2357809 side dishes and pick at the less meat-looking ones with my chopsticks.


6:25pm- The conversation breaks from Korean as a co-teacher turns to me and asks,

"So Laura-- what did you have for breakfast today?"
"I had cereal."
"With milk?"
"Yes; with milk."

Somehow, this is incredibly funny.

6:27pm- The conversation resumes in Korean. I practice with my chopsticks again. Before I came to Korea I thought I was pretty good at chopsticks. Since living in Korea, I've seen things done with chopsticks I never thought imaginable. And I still can't cut cabbage kimchi with 'em. Damn.

6:30pm- The main course arrives. I'm already full from the side dishes. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I spoke more Korean.

6:46pm- We finish the main course and I think I'm about to burst. I hear my co-teachers order rice and soup. I always forget about that sneaky post-meal-meal.

7:00pm- We finish dinner and my co-teachers notice there's no coffee machine in the restaurant (which is standard for a lot of Korean restaurants). This can only mean one thing:

7:03pm- We get in the car to drive to a coffee shop. At 7 o'clock in the evening. Maybe they don't ever sleep.

7:05pm- We order coffee and the conversational pattern continues between Korean (some of which I can understand and surprise both myself and my co-teachers when I laugh at the appropriate times) and a slow-paced English conversation where I break so many grammatical laws that my friends at home would never believe I teach this language to children.

7:45pm- We head out. Teacher dinners are always fun and interesting for me, but honestly I'm glad when I can be home before 9pm this time. Usually, when foreign teachers go out with staff, it's an all night affair.

For anyone who is ever nervous about dining with their staff-

• Don't be. They know you are out of your element.
• Remember that you are not only a teacher, but the school jester. Let them be entertained by you.
• Try. Try the food. Try chopsticks. Try the alcohol if it is offered to you. Just try.
• Never accept anything from another person with your left hand; use both hands, or if you only have one hand free, make sure it's your right hand. Never offer anything with your left hand, either.
• Be content people-watching if you can't join in on the conversation. Or practice with your chopsticks.

Unless you can already cut kimchi and fish. In that case, I might be asking for your assistance.

A little acceptance goes a long way.

This week has been very productive for the blog because I'm able to sit for hours at my desk.

Why, you ask? More deskwarming?

Perhaps you could call it that, but in truth my teachers are all incredibly busy with the end-of-the-school-year paperwork that they don't really have time for anything else. In all the hustle of the morning, something rather interesting happened:

Co-teacher [to me]: Laura, the Vice Principal just called the office. He wants to see you now.

Me: Should I go with a co-teacher?

Co-teacher: No, I asked him that but he said you can just go alone.

At this point I was on the border between dumbfounded and terrified because the Vice Principal speaks no more than 3 English phrases to me.

Now, before I continue, for those of you who aren't familiar with the Korean public school heirarchy, let me draw another quick analogy. If school were a game of chess, the Principal would be the King, but Vice Principal plays their role of Queen very well.

Oh, and all the teachers are pawns.

The point I'm trying to get across is this: in terms of power, the Principal definitely has the final say, but the Vice Principal does most of the footwork, and is basically in control of the teachers' daily working lives. So I was fairly intimidated that he wanted to see me without the protection of my co-teachers.

Walking to the main office, I repeated the word for 'Vice Principal' (교감선생님, or gyo-gam-seong-saeng-nim) about 1240985 times. When I got there, I found him in the middle of a meeting with a young woman so I waited skittishly outside the door (it was apparent to me at this point that I'm culturally becoming more Korean than I originally thought). When he told me to come in, I realized what was going on.

I sat down with this young woman who is applying for an open English teaching position at my school. The Vice Principal thought it would be a good idea to have me talk to her to test her English. It felt very strange to be the one asking interview questions (and especially to give the feedback to the Vice Principal in front of the interviewee!), but when all was said and done I left the office beaming.

Even if it was second nature to use my English, at least someone I normally bribe with cookies and immense bowing thought I would be just the girl for the job, and trusted my judgement for something other than making coffee.

This would otherwise be on a Post-it somewhere.

"You're really independent, aren't you? When I first met you I thought you were just very girlish but now I learned more about you. You are a strong woman."

-미정 (Kelly)

Even with a language barrier, sometimes people can say exactly what your heart needs to hear. And sometimes they prove that they know you better than you expect.

Lessons Learned from the Life of a Guest English Teacher.

A few people have asked to read the essay I wrote for a competition this year through EPIK. Here it is, in all its 2nd place glory (yes, yes; there's my charming sarcasm again).

On a more serious note, I am so thankful that my essay was chosen, and thrilled to see that I have so many people supporting my efforts abroad, including my school, who helped me to give my plain paper essay some finishing touches in the most Korean way possible (aka: completely without my consent but utterly appreciated!). 

Thanks for your kind words, positive vibes, and endless encouragement.

And for anyone who reads this in its entirety... you're rad.

Lessons Learned from the Life of a Guest English Teacher

I don’t think I can express just how different every foreigner’s experience is when they move to a new place. In fact, the one thing every foreigner likely does have in common when they think about their life in Korea is that it’s nothing like they imagined it would be. Talk about room for personal and professional growth! Here are some of my own stories from this transition to Korea so far, and the lessons I’ve gleaned from them:

Expect adventures in Korean dining.

I’ve had some interesting experiences just trying to eat in Korea. I love Korean food, but had to give up some of my own stubborn eating habits in order to truly enjoy it. When I first arrived in Korea, I was a vegetarian and wanted to maintain that dietary standard. However, after a few strange encounters with restaurant food, I decided a little meat in my diet wouldn’t be the worst thing after all. This first comedic incident occurred before I even left EPIK Orientation, and it‘s one I‘ll never forget:

Sitting with my friends in a Korean barbeque with virtually no knowledge of the Korean language, no readable menu, and my dietary needs... we defaulted to the other foreigners we saw in the restaurant, and enlisted their help. This resulted in one of the most awkward experiences I've had to date. Soon our fellow foreigners and the Korean servers were in what appeared to be a discussion over why someone would willingly come to a barbeque when they don't eat meat. If that wasn't enough, they all began pointing at me from across the restaurant so we could clear up this debacle. It was hard not to sink in my chair from this point on, especially when they came over and laughed when I verified that I really couldn‘t eat anything on the menu.

The lesson I would like to pass on from this night is that one should always come prepared to dine in a foreign country. The Korean culture is very hospitable and the women working that night definitely didn’t let me go hungry, but I certainly could have been more helpful if I was aware of some options to ask for in advance. Of course, there is always the possibility that the etiquette of a new culture will provide enough of a challenge. Here are some feelings from my first experience dining out with my school:

It’s my first staff meal and I feel completely lost. In the United States, I would be contributing to the conversation and making jokes. In Korea, I’m not even sure when I’m supposed to pour the water, which way to put my chopsticks, or even how to eat many of these dishes! These factors, in combination with the language barrier, make me about as comfortable as sitting on the floor does. Both I’m going to have to get used to. For the first time, I felt so socially out of place I thought I might begin to spill tears in the middle of lunch; not the impression I want to make on my new Principal and staff! Fortunately, one of my co-teachers told me not to worry. “We’re all very nice, don’t be nervous” she said. Those few words were enough for me to keep trying to cut fish with my chopsticks.

Although I still can’t cut fish properly with my chopsticks, I have learned how to act socially-presentable on a variety of other levels since moving to Korea. A few days after this lunch, I had a private meal with my co-teacher and took the time to ask her about proper eating manners in Korea. At first, I was a little embarrassed to ask her which way I should place my chopsticks between bites, but she seemed more than happy to help me adjust to Korean culture. Now that I see how eating together is an important part of social and professional life, I sometimes wish I had received a lesson on manners in Korean dining from the EPIK Orientation. It certainly would have helped to boost my confidence when taking those first few meals together as a school!

Learn some of the history.

Upon arriving at EPIK Orientation, it was made abundantly clear that learning some history of Korea would be necessary to our understanding of the culture. I gave each lecture my full attention but didn’t understand the magnitude of their importance until one night, heading home:

I’m in a taxi and the driver begins to speak to me in English. He seems very friendly and comments on how much he loves American baseball. We speak in broken English and Korean for a few minutes when he begins to share his extremely negative views toward Japan with me. I sit and listen, remembering the history lesson on Japan and South Korea I received at EPIK orientation.

Understanding history helps us to see the way culture is shaped. The two concepts are intertwined. One teacher at my school is very dedicated to my learning of Korean history and culture, and is kind enough to take me and other foreign teachers I know around our area to show us more about the country we live in now. The more I see and learn about Korea’s past, the more I can understand and find meaning in the present culture I live in. It is useful if I want to work professionally with other teachers, relate to my students, or hear a taxi driver’s story with an enlightened perspective.

Trust the system.

Sometimes, we are truly tested in another culture. One of the most obvious times in our lives when we depend on a system to work is when we are ill. Here’s a short account of the first time I was sick in Korea:

This past week, I've been feeling a bit low on energy and recently have begun to experience dizziness when I wake up. What made this situation even more interesting was that this was my first encounter with Korean medical practices. The nurse gave me some pills, all labeled in Hangul, and sent me off. No better time to start really trusting another culture than when you have to get medical attention!

I was really nervous to go to the doctor in Korea. In American culture, people generally have a bad habit of waiting until the illness becomes serious to go to a doctor. It wasn’t until one of my foreigner friends gave me some words of encouragement that I decided to put my health in the hands of the Korean medical system. “You need to trust the doctors here,” she said. Sure enough, all I had to do was let the medical system do its job (and let my co-teachers help me to and from the doctor), and I was healthy in no time! As with many cultural differences, sometimes it’s difficult to let go and try something a different way. However, it’s usually better to let go and let it happen. In this particular case, I couldn’t have put my health in better hands.

Honor your native culture.

I came to Korea with the humble perspective that this opportunity was going to be solely about Korean culture, but I was only half-correct. Although it’s true that on a daily basis, foreigners adapt to a new set of customs and habits, it doesn’t mean that their own culture isn’t of interest to Koreans! I learned this very quickly after starting my job. Being a foreigner in an elementary school sometimes feels akin to being a celebrity: everyone wants to know about your life! If I had thought about my teaching job with this perspective before moving to Korea, I would have brought more artifacts from America for the students to look at, which I now know to be a useful learning tool in the classroom. It would’ve been nice to see something like this on a packing list from EPIK, encouraging us to be just as ready to accept this new, Korean culture as we should be to share whatever we can from our native, English-speaking one. 

 

Remember with culture, it’s not better or worse. It’s just different.

As a foreigner, understand that there will be times when you feel ridiculous or out of place. The best way to counter this is with humility, not embarrassment. Culture is a far bigger and more powerful force than our own prides, so take every stumble as a learning opportunity and move along. Occasionally, you will feel completely lost. You may hear your name in conversation but not know what the conversation is about, and you may not know how to eat half the food you are served on any given day. To deal with these factors gracefully take on a sense of trust and adventure in the people you surround yourself with. If you can look at the big picture, it’s easier to trust this new system. Keep in mind that this won’t happen overnight. For a long period of time, you may not know things you once considered basic, such as where, or even if you can buy shoes in your size. There are things for every foreigner that makes them feel a little more at home. Recognize what those things are to you and figure out how to fulfill those needs. Even if it’s internet shopping.

As with any life experience, the outcome and lessons you gain from them is a choice. With new cultural experiences, this is no different. Every experience, good or otherwise, has the potential to enrich your life. All it takes is humility to realize that you’ll never know it all, but the courage to learn from whomever or whatever comes your way.

If you are considering teaching English in South Korea, make sure to check out EPIK's site: www.epik.go.kr . You will also find the winning entries from this year (including my essay) on EPIK's site soon!

Who's learning from who here?

One of the questions I receive the most from family, friends, and curious internet acquaintances (thanks for bonding me to the internet for life, Facebook) is how well my Korean is coming. The short answer is this: it's coming well. I am beginning to build confidence in my speaking skills, although admittedly I was shocked at how shy my usually-talkative mouth was to use Korean. Now that I'm putting myself out there, it's coming along alright. My main audience during an average day are:

1. taxi drivers.
2. random students on the street by my apartment.
3. the family of the noodle/kim bap house I love so much.
4. street vendors.

Every time I have a success with Korean locals, I walk away with a poker face of cool confidence, which bursts into the dorkiest grin imaginable as soon as I'm out of sight. Some of the highlights include:


1. the first time I directed a cabbie to my apartment.
2. the second time I directed a cabbie to my apartment (yeah, it was a pretty big deal).
3. the time I bartered with a shoe salesman for a sweet deal on some black boots in Busan.
4. the way the teachers and students at my school light up when I try to write their names in Hangul (imagine a poor foreigner sinking into her chair, scrawling on a piece of paper as several Koreans huddle around her yelling, "gim hae eun... eun! euuuuuuun!").
5. actually communicating with the 2-to-4-year-olds I cared for this weekend at children's house in Ulsan (this is going to be a different post entirely so keep an eye out).

So I'd place my language level at 3 years of age. That and taxi driver, which are about equivalent.

Much of this learning has been completed on my own time, but it hasn't been by myself. Aside from my co-teachers and foreign network, the biggest asset to my learning have been the kids I work with. They love taking time from their day to show me new words, test my knowledge of Hangul, or provide me with opportunities to listen to simple sentences being whined over and over... and over.

The best thing about learning from kids is that they never judge you for being wrong. They may laugh, but they never make you feel inferior for asking. They really have been some of my biggest supporters when it comes to learning, and certainly the biggest inspiration. So a big thank you to my students, and all the Korean children who lend a helping hand to tongue-tied foreigners like me.

On the other side of the spectrum is the image of an 'English speaker' I have to present to my students. As a foreign English teacher trying to learn Korean, it is sometimes difficult not to use a little here and there in the classroom just to make things run smoother. On a normal day at my school, this isn't much of an issue because the Korean teachers are already using their native language for much of the class. However, the reason English-speakers were hired to come here is to somehow be a tool for English immersion. I often laugh at this since I have about 1,000 students at my school and somehow must immerse them all in my language.

However, I do work an after-school program with limited numbers of students, so in those classes it is crucial that we have an 'English only' policy, for both me and the students. My classes are well-informed that if they speak Korean, they have to write lines. Although this is not my preferred method for a reward/punishment system, it is definitely effective in Korea. The only problem is that by the 5 o'clock hour (when after-school lessons begin), students do not want to keep to school rules, and they definitely don't want to be kept from speaking Korean.

So, what happens when you have an English teacher in a room of students who want to speak Korean?

 I think we're going to have a lesson on punctuation
sometime in the near future.

Yep. Punctuation.

This student's handwriting got suspiciously larger to cover more space.
Nice tactic.

I particularly like this kid's take on the punishment. Not only did he write 100 times in the smallest handwriting "I will speak English", but he wrote in blaring yellow marker... and still managed to save enough space to scrawl "THE END" at the bottom.

The age hierarchy in Korea would never allow me to say this aloud, but I think I learn just as much-- if not more-- from my students on a daily basis (and that's no knock to my teaching abilities!). Let's just chalk it up to say that what I learned in college still holds true: we all learn from one another.

impressions.

Now that I've been here almost 2 months and feel rather settled (well, as settled as you can be in the middle of Korea after 2 months), I thought it would be fun to share a few assessments I've made. This entry comes with a small disclaimer, because as you'll see, there are no direct quotes from co-teachers, students, or anyone else to support what I'm saying.

But this is my blog, so let's just roll with it. Just remember this is all from the mouth of a waygook (or 'foreigner', for all you Westerners).


What I think of the food.

I still love Korean food. In fact, most blog ideas pour from my brain after a long day at work as I sit in this one little kim bap shop across the street from my apartment. It's adorable, family-run I think, and has a huge menu with really inexpensive food. The owners know me and my favorites now, which I'm really happy about. Big breakthrough today: they offered me more soup for free. I think they like me.

Also, for those who have been curious about how my vegetarian status was holding up: I have made the decision to eat chicken meat on occasion, mostly for the sake of my school dinners and evenings out with foreigner friends. In my close group of friends, we had a seafood allergy, a lactose-free diet, and me playing the part of vegetarian. This ruled out basically any dining options... what a nightmare. So me eating chicken here and there has helped us all immensely. Besides, after the tripe incident, I figured it would be safer to know I was eating chicken than not know I was eating cow stomach.


What my co-teachers think of me.

Firstly, they recognize I'm very young and remind me on a daily basis. This has not stopped them from continuing to point out every available male teacher, despite their age.

They think that the students like me because I have blue eyes. Like I mesmerize them with my 'special' eyes. What I fail to tell them is that if I actually had this power, I may not have left the US to begin with.

My left-handedness is becoming a new topic of interest. Today at lunch, my Korean father actually looked a little concerned that I was left-handed. He asked me if I was actually right-handed like I use my left hand just for fun. Then everyone wanted to know how I became left-handed. When I said it was my choice (slash genetics, I pointed out), I got some strangely amused looks. The weird looks only got weirder when I got up the nerve to ask if anyone in Korea is left-handed. Guess not. Now, I already knew the left hand was 'bad' in Korea, but it is getting a little frustrating for people to tell me that I do things well "even though she uses her left hand."

Today, my Human Services self remembered an essay I wrote last fall for a class on Diversity and Social Justice. We wrote about our privileges and disadvantages in society. I talked about my left-handedness as a disAbility at the most mild level. Well, here in Korea, it's seen as more of a handicap than anywhere I've ever been. Once again, I'm so thankful for my major.

Okay, I can't help it; I worked so hard to get this degree. Here is a small excerpt from my essay:

I am proud to be left-handed, and the fact that I am a minority in this area makes me feel unique. Being left-handed does not make me feel like a minority, and society does not make me feel excluded outright for being left-handed (although historically, organized religion used to consider left-handed people ‘evil’). However, US culture is generally built for right-handed people. Scissors, desks, and many instructions for skills such as knitting create a divide between people who are right-dominated versus left-dominated. Sometimes, I am frustrated with people’s shock at my left-handed quality, or their assumptions that my handwriting is not as competent as a right-hander’s. These stereotypes are a concise analogy for the hierarchy between majorities and minorities in society; the minority is viewed as different (and therefore less functional) than the majority.

One last interesting comment I heard this week was about my "S line." I don't think they knew that I understood what they were saying, but I learned from my friend Angela (who basically paved the way for me in Korean culture) that the "S line" is a term used to describe an ideal body type in Korea. If you look at the shape of the S, perhaps you'll understand: something of a chest, small waist, and ample hips. Needless to say, it's not too difficult to have an "S line" when you're being compared to Korean body types, but it was pretty hilarious to hear it from my lady co-teachers.


What my students think of me.

All smiles.

Well, mostly.

Nah, they've been pretty good, actually. I'm getting to know several of them on more than a name-basis (and believe me, when they don't have an English name, the name-basis alone is pretty difficult!). Some kids come in for tutoring in the afternoon, so usually they are deferred to me. I really like it. It's natural and more personal. It's why I came here.

They think I'm silly. I sing in class, dance, and am probably a good mental health break from their insanely stressful lives. On the first day of my lessons, I did an introduction slideshow with pictures of my family. One of them had a picture of my mom and I making a funny face. Apparently this image really stuck in their heads because two girls came up to me this weekend and wanted to know how to make 'the face.'

This was it.
We had an English Festival this weekend (pictured above) and it felt good to work with my kids outside of class... we had fun, despite the fact that our booth was a Jenga Spell game and I still cringe when I think about the sound of those wooden blocks crashing (as you can see, it was a pretty crazy, loud booth!).

Again, my co-teachers claim that our booth was popular because of my eyes, not the bags of candy we were giving away.


What I think about learning Korean.

It's a slow process but I'm still working at it everyday. I feel like my comprehension is definitely getting better, but my speech is lacking. It's incredibly difficult to muster up the energy to learn a language when I'm already teaching a different one all day.

I'm self-teaching with the help of my co-teachers, students, www.talktomeinkorean.com, and cell phone Korean-to-English dictionary.

By the way, I tried to think about Spanish today, the other language I used to know moderately. I couldn't even get my mind around it. I really admire anyone who is multi-lingual.


What I think of Korea (everyone asks me this so I'm just going to answer it).

I absolutely love it here. I miss you all, sometimes a lot, but this is a great experience for me. If you would ever like to send mail or packages, I can definitely return the favor with something special from Korea.

Musings from my rooftop.

Today I was feeling overwhelmed from work. It was our first day back to school since a 6-day break, and just like the students on their first day of class, I was a little stressed. In the last week, my body's been fighting a cold and insomnia. My brain's been struggling with a rapid switch in how my teaching job is going, and I think my heart is actually beginning to register this place as my home, not just an extended trip.

Luckily for me, the remedy for my rough start today was truly a breakthrough from an entire month of my stay in Korea. I'll try not to build this up any further; some of you may be envisioning something much bigger than I am about to describe. I did not do anything crazy... but I finally listened to me.

I told myself to go to the store, buy my groceries, and take my kim bap up to the roof to watch the sunset. And, of course-- to bring my camera.


Sitting on the roof with my dinner, I saw my neighborhood in a way I had never seen it before. Everything was even more incredible to me than before. The other rooftops were very different from my own, with brick, potted plants, and dirty rugs; they were all so full of character. Right now, I am much like my own rooftop... I'm fresh in my world, and there is a lot of potential. There's also a lot of empty space-- room for holes to be made and filled, cherished things to be left, memories to be made. I've got a lot of figuring out to do.


One thing I've been so thankful for this week are the Ulsan sunsets. I don't know if this is a fluke, but I didn't notice many of them during the summer season. Perhaps it is the angle of the sun, but it seems like this week was the beginning of some warm, vivid evenings as the sun slips across the Pacific. There are a few things I identified as something I miss from home: sunsets are one of the biggest. So tonight, as I witnessed the most beautiful sunset I've seen in Korea so far, I definitely felt more at home than ever before.


As I scoped out my 5-story panorama, I also noticed there are more churches around my apartment than I thought. You can spot churches easily in Korea because many have red neon crosses atop the steeples (which I find kind of ironic). There are glowing crosses all around me. It was really beautiful to see them shine brighter as the sun set.


By the time I finished my dinner , the sun was saying its goodbyes to the Jung-gu neighborhood, and I was saying hello to my new life here in Ulsan as a strong, confident and single adult. Away from family and loving friends, but never alone or without my own sense of family and belonging.

It was a very good night.

A hospital trip, sing-a-longs, aviator shades, and my big nose : what do all these have in common?

They were all a part of this past week in Ulsan.
Oh, what a week.

A hospital trip.

Before I continue, I want to clarify that 'hospital' is a pretty extreme word used in the States, but in Korea it is more of a comprehensive term used for a trip to the doctor's. Unfortunately I wasn't aware of this when my co-teacher told me that I needed to go to the hospital.

This past week, I've been feeling a bit low on energy and recently have begun to experience dizziness when I woke up. True to my US culture, I waited for a week before deciding to seek medical attention. My co-teacher and I visited the nurse's office first, and as it turns out I was running a low-grade fever. Once I realized something was really wrong, I cannot express how much I wanted to be sitting on the couch at my parent's house! What made this situation even more interesting was that this was my first encounter with Korean medical practices. The nurse gave me some barely-labeled pills (all in Hangul anyway) and sent me off. No better time to start really trusting another culture than when you have to get medical attention!

After school, one of Yaksa's PE teachers, Mr. Woo, took me to the hospital. Mr. Woo refers to himself as my 'Korean father' because he has a daughter my age studying abroad in Japan currently. He is a sweet man who has nothing but jokes and advice for his 'American daughter'. As any 'father' would, Mr. Woo wanted to give me health advice as well... and I'm really glad he did. The first question he asked me as he got into the car:

"Laura, do you sleep with
your air conditioner on?"

Now, being a girl from the Pacific Northwest, I am completely clueless about air conditioning. It's the kind of luxury we enjoy on those oh-so-hot-90-degree-Fahrenheit days when we go to the mall or sit in the movie theatres. having an AC in my own one-room apartment? Unheard of! And on days when the low is 90 degrees, it only makes logical sense to crank that thing full blast until hypothermia sets in.

Which is precisely why the air conditioner is considered dangerous in Korea. According to Mr. Woo, the doctor I saw, and every nurse who made that universal "ah haaaa" sound in the lobby, no one should use the air conditioner all night. It causes sickness. If I was at all skeptical yesterday, I'm a believer now. After just one night of not using my air conditioner, I feel a lot better. And maybe those other random pills from the hospital are helping; I'm not sure.

By the way, my doctor's bill went something like this:

Hospital visit: $5 USD
Medication: $2 USD
Time spent in the hospital: Under 30 minutes.

So all's well that ends well. And although this has completely ruined my appreciation for the air conditioner, I'm happy for the experience.

Sing-a-longs.

When I first came to Ulsan, I figured I'd be teaching the Korean children songs in my classes. When you teach 3rd graders, it's almost expected. But when it comes to teaching adults, I wasn't thinking they'd be interested in singing songs.

Well, I was wrong. Very very wrong. But I'm so happy.

These 7 or 8 adults I work with each week were stoked when I brought up "Fireflies" by Owl City and taught them to sing it. We spent a lot of time going over grammar, vocabulary and Western expressions (and they asked me to sing it for them first!), but by the end of the week we were all singing it! The highlight of this lesson was that Mr. Woo said I inspired him to begin singing again, and on Friday he performed for us all by himself. It took him about 30 times to practice, but it really paid off. Once he was on stage, he totally cut loose! It was so, so great.

Aviator shades.



My friends and I have been taking time this week to check out the downtown scene when possible (difficult with our schedules, but we make it happen!), and this weekend was pretty magnificent. There are 2 downtown districts in Ulsan: Old Downtown (Song Nam Dong) and New Downtown (Sam San Dong). If you want tons of people and a larger-than-life ferris wheel, check out San San Dong. If you want cheap aviators and nearly-abandoned bars with the nicest owners you'll ever meet, Old Downtown's your scene. Personally, I prefer Old Downtown for its charm and cheapness... and marvelous Indian cuisine.



But New Downtown has characters like this:




My big nose.

I've always known I have a big nose. My face, in general, has large features... and in Korean culture everything on my face only looks bigger. But I've been wondering what Koreans think of my nose. Normally, I wouldn't have given this much thought. In fact, I had a lady tell me that she "liked my face" the other day (which I found hilarious coming from a non-native English speaker), but the nose thing... well, it's caused some interesting situations:

1. My first day of teaching, there was a student who approached me after class, holding her face and saying, "Your nose, your nose!" and walked away before I could clarify.

2. A week later, I was in the girls' bathroom waiting to wash my hands. My students moved out of the way for me, and as I approached the sink, two girls standing next to me gasped and began to clap, again saying nothing but, "Your nose!" Now I was really confused.

3. This week, one of my students asked me if my nose was broken (it has a small bump in the middle of it) and I told him no. Then he looked at me and told me it was "an amazing nose".

I'm not sure if this means they think it's beautiful or if it's like some weird Ripley's Believe-It-Or-Not nose. Either way, the reactions I get are sometimes outright hilarious.

A Korean meal of things to say.

Which basically means a mish-mash of whatever... mixed with rice.

1. Although I'm still the youngest of all my teacher companions (be they Korean or foreigners), I'm literally older over here. Because of Korean tradition, infants are considered a year old upon their birth, taking account for their time in the womb. In addition, the lunar calendar dictates birthdays, so they aren't as consistent as birthdays in the States. As a result, my co-teacher informed me that I'm actually 23. Hmm.

2. When I'm not teaching, planning, or wandering around, I'm learning Hangul and practicing Korean. It's been a long time since I've learned a new language, but I'm sticking with it and really enjoying it. Fortunately, there's really no better place in the world to learn a language. Signs in Korea are huge and, for the most part, written in very simple characters. Easy reading for a newbie like me. By co-workers think it's hilarious when I sit at our weekly meetings and practice my Hangul. Sometimes I try to spell out names; other times I learn new phrases. Gotta fill that time with something; I have no idea what my vice principal is saying, and it rarely applies to me anyway.

3. I learned that my last name, Hughes, sounds like the Korean word for 'napkin'... Thus the massive confusion when I first arrived and the school took me to lunch.

4. The PE teacher I met at Yaksa is extremely nice and always greets me in English every morning. Often I walk out the front door instead of the back (which is basically 20 paces from my apartment entrance), and he will point and say, 'Your home is that way.' I will tell him what I need to do that day (usually I'm on my way to buy food or visit a PC room). One day he shared with me that I remind him of his daughter, who is my age and studying in Japan currently. It's very sweet to have this fatherly PE coach watching out for me.

5. As described in previous posts, my home is literally behind my school, which has its up and down points. In the winter (and when a tropical storm is passing by), I'm thankful for the close proximity. However, it's only a matter of time before most of my students find out where I live and come to visit at random times.

6. I don't like jumping to conclusions, but I'm 99% certain that my school staff is trying to set me up with one of our teachers. Unfortunately, men 20 years older than me aren't my style. Day 1 of teaching, the staff was eating lunch and one of my co-teachers said to me, 'The vice principal would like to emphasize that this man is not married.' If that weren't strange enough, she tried to get me to talk to him, and I could hear them talking about me in Korean. Needless to say, my first meal in the cafeteria proved to be sufficiently awkward, and I've had a love-hate relationship with lunch ever since. Half the time, the only seat they leave open for me is next to or across from this guy. I feel bad for both of us because I rarely talk to him.

7. Busses in Korea are the most systematic yet utterly chaotic things I have ever experienced. Every major bus stop has a screen with updates of bus routes (including interactive maps so you can see when your bus is coming), but actually riding a bus is a whole different story.

Tips to be successful on Korean public transportation:
-Stand in the road so you can sprint to your bus, which stops any old place on the street.
-If there's a crowd, getting on the bus trumps actually paying for the ride.
-HOLD ON. No seriously. Maybe even with two hands.

Some of the strangest experiences I've had so far have been on the bus. If it's not Emily and me getting lost and headed in an hour-long loop in the wrong direction, it's a drunken man with a bag of half-eaten chicken being forcibly removed from the bus by two police officers. Usually I feel safe in Korea. When I'm on the bus it's like entering an alternate universe. Anything can-- and does-- happen.

8. Living so close, kids are beginning to see and recognize me more. So it's not uncommon that I hear my name being shouted by little boy voices as I walk through my neighborhood many weekend mornings. I respond, in my English teacher voice. But it's usually to nobody, since I can never find them (where they're hiding, I'll probably never know!).

9. Toast has a completely different meaning over here. As do many other food dishes. With toast, it's a benefit. Instead of bread popping out of the toaster, you get a grilled sandwich with cheese, egg, special sauce, and all the fixings you could possibly ever want. With other things, it's a compromise. Or just a flat out confusion. Like, you may walk into a restaurant, try to order a particular dish, and after minutes of language barrier, throw your hands up and say, 'I'll take anything.'

Just an FYI: you'll GET anything.



A list of the strange things I've eaten so far:
Squid of all kinds
Chopped octopus
Whole baby octopus
Still-half-alive baby octopus
Sea snails
Cow's stomach (we thought it was stingray)
... and perhaps more. I'm not sure I even want to know. It's always an adventure.

Speaking of which, I'm off to dinner!
Be well and be happy,
Laura

tea-time and the explaining the easter bunny.

"Tea-time, Laura!"

This is what I hear twice a day, and I love it so much. Because these three ladies-- my co-teachers Jasmine Claudia and Kelly-- know how to make time for self-care.

I'll admit, it's not always the easiest to talk to someone when you don't know their language, and after 8 hours a day of planning lessons or carrying on conversation in Konglish (my little bits of Korean words and intonation mashed with their much-clearer-yet-not-perfected English), I sometimes just sit at the table and let them have a converation in Korean without attempting to pretend I know what they're saying.

Most of the time, however, it's not like this. Because these ladies and I usualy find ourselves talking about our respective cultures, and learning so much from it. We laugh, we drink tea (Earl Grey is a novelty item we are drinking this week, while I'm still fascinated by all the 'Chick Chock' cookies they eat and still stay so small!), and we always end up writing English and Korean words in our journals.

Today the topic drifted to holidays, and we giggled as I tried to explain the logic behind the Easter bunny. They were fascinated by egg-dying traditions; as I promised to get some dye sent in from the States, I realized just how much culture I do see in the States. It takes a big move like this to see the things you take for granted.

And it also takes this kind of change to realize how similar human nature really is. I had no idea I would be having tea-time with these ladies everyday, but it definitely feels like home to me, even speaking a different language.

By the way, I taught my co-teachers the term self-care, which is our Human Services mantra from college. They loved it.