We just passed the three month anniversary of our arrival in Korea and when I think about how we're adapting I'm reminded of a drinking game we played recently with a group of friends. The game is called "Cheers to the Governor" and the objective is simple: count to 21. The tricky part is that every time you make it to 21 a new rule is made. For example, the numbers 7 and 14 are switched or the person who gets number 4 has to shout "I'm crazy!" instead. When someone messes up you start from the beginning again and it basically goes on as long as everyone has the patience and sobriety for it. Combine this with a language barrier and the game gets pretty interesting. To to get to the point, our friend James makes a rule that on 21 you raise your glass and say "I got this shit." We come to the end of the first round following the creation of this rule and who messes up? James, of course. Thinking he was supposed to be on 21 and not 20 he raises his glass, a huge smile on his face and says "I got this shiiiiii-" -and then he, as well as everyone else, groaned and realized that we did not have this shit. I think this is the perfect anecdote to describe our day to day here. Some days we got it and others we get dropped somewhere in the middle of "shiiiiiiit." A lot still surprises us, in good ways and bad, but with each week that goes by the average day feels a bit more predictable. To summarize, a list of the weirds and wonderfuls of note that we've experienced so far: THE WEIRD -We saw a man walking his pet raccoon through a busy nightclub area on a Wednesday night. -This hat: ,-Korean girls wear super short skirts and heels no matter how cold and icy it may be. Blame it on the influence of K-Pop. Boobies, however, are a big no no. -Hand washing and covering your face when you sneeze and cough is not a thing. This is a cultural thing I'm really struggling with given the recent MERS outbreak last spring and the large amount of Koreans who go into medicine. One problem is that most public bathrooms have neither soap nor warm water, but there is this thing called hand sanitizer, ya feel? The sneezing and coughing is especially not cool because you're regularly surrounded by other people in small spaces. After giving one of my students with particularly bad allergies the angry teacher face repeatedly he now sneezes into his hands rather than projectile spraying across my desk. My personal favorite was when a guy in a classy-enough-to-know better business suit standing above me on the metro, sneezed directly onto my head. Luckily I was wearing a hat so I was shielded from most of the blast....but I'm still blaming him for the cold I got the following week. THE WONDERFUL -Insadong, aka where everyone goes to shop for the gifts people back home actually want. Quirky shops, delicious street food, and this time of year, the Lantern Festival on the Cheonggyecheon. -My students. No doubt, there are those classes that will occasionally make me want to throw myself into the Han but in general, I really love my students. All 130 of them. Eh...make that 123 of 130. My third and fourth graders are my favorite. They understand a lot of English and are at the point where they can use it in creative and exciting ways. The majority also study Chinese so they'll be trilingual by the time they're 16. Asians are so ahead of us. -Our new friends are the best! We're beyond that college freshmen stage of "Oh my god every person I meet is my new best friend" and have finally landed with a group of really great people. The majority are not American which makes it a language exchange as well. We celebrated Thanksgiving with them this past week and it was one of the best Thanksgivings I've ever had, despite the fact that I was missing my family and there was no turkey or stuffing in sight. That night, we also celebrated our friend Jin's birthday and after cake he made a speech that was sweet, beautiful and encompasses everything I'm getting at here. To paraphrase: "We come from many different places and I am happy to celebrate this Friendsgiving with you. I"m happier today than I have ever been and to be here with you. Let's see each other's faces often." Yesterday, I walked into my Tigers classroom and started checking my students' homework. Che won - a chubby little 10-year-old who looks like a miniature Korean mob boss thanks to the gold chain around his neck and paunchy, sweaty face - needs to pass by me to get to his seat. Rather than a simple "Excuse me Casey teacher," he throws his whole head into my hip, shoves past, runs to the white board and flops against it for a few seconds before sliding down onto the floor.
All I can do is stare at him with a wordless, mouth-open, "What are you actually doing right now?" expression. Little boys make no sense. My Tigers class demonstrates this on the daily. It's magnified by an unfortunate distribution of 9 rowdy boys to 3 very shy girls. It's really an incredible phenomenon. It's like each little boy has an internal timer of about 10 seconds that goes off if they've spent more than one minute doing normal student behavior. Seriously, it's really amazing that most patriarchal societies have been able to exist for so long. When Young So or Tae Hee suddenly jumps out of his seat, makes a loud fart noise and throws his eraser across the room, I feel the same sense of affinity with the three little girls in the class as I do with my female co-workers when the boss man demonstrates, at an employee get-together, how he can deep-throat a shot glass (yes, that actually happened). All in all teaching is as you would expect for someone new to the game: a complete rollar coaster. Some days the students are great and make my heart happy, and other days, they use their faces as battering rams. Oh pork, oh bacon, how could you do this to me? You were so tasty, And you looked great on the coals, But you wouldn’t stay down with the kimchi. There it is folks, I’m pretty certain that I have an allergy to really fatty pork and bacon. After visiting a Korean barbeque joint earlier in the week, I have spent the past four days mostly in bed, debating if my stomach ache was severe enough to warrant a doctor’s visit (see: no health insurance until I officially start working). Not much fun as you can imagine. After a whole heap of bland food, stomach meds from the pharmacy, and drinking my weight in water, I finally feel like I’m on the mend. Between long naps and binge watching the final season of How I Met Your Mother? (SPOILER ALERT: Team Robin. I wasn’t mad. Sloppy writing, but I ain’t mad) I did have a few hours of time when I was not curled up in pain to be productive. I used this time to get in touch with my inner domestic goddess. It was weird. I’ve never really had the desire to “nest” but after two days of staring at an apartment that was teetering on the brink of uninhabitable I was forced to break out the pearl necklace, heels, and cleaning gloves. Meaning, I didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas and I sprayed bleach on everything. Can I just marvel for a second at how ridiculously good it feels to accomplish a small bit of housework when your world is reduced to the space you live in? Take, for example, this big pink winter blanket we inherited from a fellow ESL teacher. It was coated with dust and smelled like something died in it but I was determined to make it clean again, those kind of blankets here are expensive people and we’re working on a small budget right now. Please see below the text exchange I had with the far more domestically-inclined Danny: I think cleaning is directly tied to the endorphin centers in Danny’s brain. He grabs a Clorox wipe: yesss Dust gone in one swipe: oh my God so good!!! There are more wipes and more dust!??: IT’S ALL TOO MUCH!!! Here he is cleaning dishes: So happy. Also ‘habibi’ means ‘baby’ in Arabic. Don’t judge, you know you call your person weird stuff too.
Did you ever play The Sims when you were a kid? You know how when your sim made a new friend a little green bar would fill up above their head? Well right now, as we eagerly try to dig in temporary roots here in Ansan, any time I have a social interaction I can’t help but imagine that glowing green bar hovering above my head. A few days ago, Danny and I were definitely starting to feel like those little green friendship bars were dropping into the red. I think that homesickness is really just an awareness of the absence of anything familiar. Full disclosure, I called my Mom crying about a stupid DIY sock snowman video I saw on Facebook that reminded me of her. “M-mommm,” I ugly cried over FaceTime, “We can’t make snowman crafts together this winter!” It’s those weird little things that creep up on you and release the tear duct flood gates. And as much as I thank baby Jesus for things like Skype and Face Time, sometimes seeing pixelated, familiar faces makes it all the more isolating when you realize that you literally know no one in this brand new place. After sobbing into Danny’s armpit for an hour after talking to my mom, I decided that I needed to get out of our dorm room...er, I mean, apartment. Fast forward to the next day. On my way to find some palaces I’m riding the metro into Seoul and double checking my guidebook (for the third time) to see if I was on the right line (I was), when the two older Korean ladies on either side of me ask, one in English and the other in Korean, “Where are you going?” Along with the frantic tourist vibe I must have also been exuding the “I need friends!” smell. I struck up a conversation with the adorable grandmother to my right, who looked like she couldn’t be older than 40 - bless her perfect Asian skin - and by the end of the ride we had become friends on Kakao Talk. BIG. DEAL. Kakao Talk Friends = Friends for life! My friendship bar was creeping back into the green. After feeling inspired by the sightseeing and friend-making, I was on a role. That same evening Danny and I decided to check out a magical thing known as a meetup group. I can’t believe I never checked out meetups in DC, there is literally every interest you can imagine hosted by cool people who share that same interest!
Our meet up was awesome. We met a Korean guy who went to school in South Africa who has a very confusing, albeit charming, accent; a sassy Chinese girl who is dating an American and has absolutely no interest in Korean men, much to their disappointment; a Guatemalan who said screw it to a regular job and life back home, came here, and is baffled as to why the Asian women do not respond to his latin swagger; and generally just a lot of really cool and eclectic people. In a moment of weakness, we grabbed McDonalds on our way to the group’s second location for the evening and over our quarter pounders that tasted like America, Danny mused: “It’s nice to know that there are great people just around the corner, no matter where you are!” I know I said I would write about school in this post but I’ve decided to put that off until Danny finishes his first week of teaching. Instead, there’s something far more pressing to talk about: young Koreans want to be gangsters. Or, at least, they want to wear watered-down versions of white peoples’ interpretations of 1990s-era rapper fashion…I think. Blinged-out hats, graphic tees with random combinations of English words like ‘yo’, ‘chill’, ‘bro’, and randomly, ‘happy beach time’, and LOTS of tattoos. American hip-hop and rap music is HUGE here and it comes up in the oddest places, i.e.: 8am, sitting at a café, Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” pairs beautifully with my morning grog and a latte. When it’s followed by Biggie’s “Fuckin You Tonight” I glance up at the very buttoned-up baristas and doubt that either of them really registers the line, “ Remember when I used to play between yo legs, you begged for me to stop because you know where it would head, straight to yo mother’s bed.” That brings up another observation: there is a very strange undercurrent of sexual humor that I don’t totally understand yet. I guess it comes as a surprise because I think most foreigners imagine Korea to have a very traditional and conservative surface appearance. Watching several K-pop music videos from my stool at a bar called ‘Lady Bug’ last night I noticed that all included groups of scantily clad, sexy dancing ladies and an excessive amount of ass-close ups. Looking around however, all of the young Korean women in the bar were very well dressed, even over-dressed for the location by American standards. I can certainly see some parallels to the way American women are portrayed in our media and the strange contrast to the way they actually behave in real life (a bit prudish according to some European friends). Lastly, a related story. According to Danny, who has an impressive amount of Asian-cultural knowledge, mainly gleaned from Anime, pervy old men are a hilarious joke in TV and real life. Yesterday, as we were riding the very-full metro back from a quick errand to Seoul, an elderly Korean man was so inspired by my “exotic” appearance he insisted on expressing his admiration through art. Image 1, for your viewing pleasure: Kinda cool right? He handed it to me and said it was a gift. Touched, we thanked him, repeatedly and proudly since ‘Kamsahamnida’ is one of the few Korean words we know well. Then he hands us another picture, this one of a lady. Nice. We thank him again. Then he hands us another, and another until finally… ...his pièce de résistance: At that point we stopped making eye contact and moved down the train. I’m in the process of finding out what all the writing with each image means, anyone who can decipher it and translate please feel free to confirm my hunch that it’s a dirty story. Day three in Ansan and it feels like we’ve been here a week already, probably on account of the jet lag and incredibly long days of trying to settle in. My brain is still a little foggy so instead of the well-crafted, delightfully clever post I would prefer to write, I’ll just give you some highlights, a few low lights and general reactions to our first few days in South Korea. Big people, little world. Our apartment is tiny. We are not. We kind of feel like two giants in a dollhouse right now. Having done some research prior to arriving in Ansan the space didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but walking through the door, dragging 200 pounds worth of luggage between us and blinking back the travel exhaustion, our dorm-room sized space hit us with a culture-shock punch to the gut. To save money and in order to travel to Korea at the same time, Danny and I have to live in an apartment that’s really only suited for one bite-sized person until September when we will receive a second room next door. Not an unmanageable situation but certainly a little cramped. With a good night’s sleep we resolved to make it work and it’s turning out to be very cozy and charming. I am especially fond of the cherry blossom wallpaper and frosted-glass sliding doors that look like they are hiding a geisha. Also, Koreans stare at us a lot. I can imagine them arriving at work and telling everyone, “Oh my gosh! Did you see the interracial American couple at the coffee shop this morning!? They are so tall!” Back in Fairfax there is a guy who walks around George Mason’s campus playing a tuba all day, everyone spots him and needs to talk about it, we’re on his level right now. (Almost) defeated by the kitchen. My American friends let me just say this: We are so lucky to have disturbingly plump, pre-packaged chicken breasts. Ok, maybe lucky isn’t the right word, sorry gluten-allergy generation. But after our first attempt to cook in our new home I am really appreciating the convenience of American grocery stores. Stopping by the little market in our neighborhood, Danny worked up the courage to ask the grocer in broken Korean for some chicken. It went something like this: Sillay hazeman (Excuse me)…tchicken?...uhh yes, tchicken (chicken?...uhh yes, chicken?). Turns out the friendly grocer knew a bit of English and was very excited to learn that we were from Washington DC. Smiling energetically, he took an imposing meat cleaver to half a semi-bloody chicken, tossed several small pieces in a bag and sent us on our way to do battle with the kitchen. Culinary experts we are not and de-boning a chicken, while not necessarily difficult, is an interesting process, especially when your kitchen tools are limited. Managing to get our rice and the meat prepared we discovered that our “stove” (i.e. two counter-top gas burners) probably hasn’t been used in a very long time. We lost a good layer of rice along the way (RIP my grainy friends) but eventually we produced a few tasty pieces of chicken and a bowl of semi-crunchy rice. Danny was feeling a little blue about the whole attempt and that we won’t be hosting any dinner parties any time soon. Happily, he was cheered the next morning when we successfully created an egg scramble with rosemary parmesan French fries which we dubbed “Scrambled Rosemary”…sounds like a batty next-door neighbor, right? Paris? New York? Or Ansan? Café and restaurant culture here is amazing! Kind of makes sense why our poor stove and kitchen has been neglected for so long, with an abundance of places to eat and hang out, why cook at home? There are tons of 24-hour coffee places with very open storefronts where you can sit with a latte, people watch with a judgmental, Parisian-esque gaze and enjoy the atmosphere…and free WiFi of course. What we’ve really enjoyed as well is seeing the city come to life at night. During the day the huge neon billboards and signs that cover the industrial looking buildings can appear a little gaudy but when they’re all lit up the main streets turn into magical little Times Squares. To come: Our confusion over the difference between the Korean words for ‘water’ and ‘radish’ as well as Danny’s first few days of training at our school: SLP-Ansan! You know that phrase "Nice Guys Finish Last," well, let me tell you, I am a convert to "Team Nice Guy" and I'm calling on you to help make nice guys finish first, because they deserve it and so do you.
In early November I traveled with a friend up to New York for an evening of readings at the Grand Bar and Grill in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. My one-act piece, "The Time is...What?" was featured as the third of four short plays for an audience of actors, writers, artists and theater lovers.
Here's a synopsis of the play: In a tiny apartment somewhere near the sea, dairy comes on Mondays and staple guns on Sundays. A Ferris wheel turns outside and a traveling knocks on the door. Two women who call themselves Raf and Tot invite this stranger in for a drink of vinegar. Two will leave, one will burn and the dog will die. Crazy crazy good fun! Thanks to Chad & Clarke for including me in November's Playwrights at the Grand! If you’ve never seen an episode of NBC’s Parks and Recreation please stop reading this (but do come back to it later) log on to Netflix immediately with your roommate’s “borrowed” account info and check out season two. The first season is worth a look too but mainly I’d like to introduce you to the character of Chris Traeger (played brilliantly by the never-aging Rob Lowe) who appears in the second episode of season two as the Pawnee Parks & Rec department’s new boss. He’s an extremely fit, health-food obsessed, over-the-top optimist who can’t comprehend sarcasm or why anyone would eat red meat over a vegan burger. Paired with the (mostly) under-achieving and unenthusiastic staff of the Parks & Rec department, Chris’ overflowing positivity is a regular annoyance to his colleagues. However, though they may find Chris Traeger’s attitude to be irritating rather than inspiring, I’ve found that there is value to his method of thinking. Just think “Literally” To be an educated adult working in the service industry can, at times, feel like a modern form of torture. After a countless blur of “Do you want fries with that?” you start to wonder if all of that brain growth gained via your $45,000/yr college education is rapidly receding with each table turned. After days and weeks of this you find yourself sporadically flipping between a state of fragile mental stability and all out hysteria. When that old woman at table 212 insists that all of her toppings must be on separate side plates you clench your teeth, smile sweetly and hold back the urge to run screaming from the restaurant. When your party of teenagers asks for another basket of bread - for the 8th time - you get it rather than again, running screaming from the restaurant, this time all the way to the airport and a plane bound for the forests of Vietnam where you will live the remainder of your years totally secluded. The mundane, repetitive and taxing nature of the food industry is incredibly wearing and it’s no wonder that long-time employees often find themselves becoming hostile and bitter to most other human beings. But this is not fair, to the employees or to the people their job services. This is where Chris Traeger comes in. In the show, whenever somebody asks him for something, no matter how outrageous or unpleasant the favor may be, Chris replies, “There is LITERALLY nothing I would rather do!”… or some variation of that. It’s very silly how he says it and I haven’t (yet) used the expression out loud but I decided to try thinking it regularly at work. I really love what it does. Not only does it give me an inward giggle but I’ve found that my interactions are consistently more positive. It’s particularly useful when i’m faced with an especially frustrating request or it’s the end of the day and my exhaustion is outweighing my patience. I find that when I reply with an enthusiastic affirmation, “Of course!” “Absolutely!” “Certainly!”, even if I don’t feel genuinely excited about the request, if I do my best to sound energetic and genuine then I actually start to feel energetic and genuine. I know that this is not some new discovery. It’s sort of a riff on “fake it till you make it.” But I’d have to say my favorite thing about it is that it forces me to put others before myself. This sounds so simple but it’s not always an easy task in the self-focused society that we live in. The Chris Trager attitude is one that is inherently other-focused. It’s made me feel patient and kinder. So no matter the situation, whether its your boss asking you for that report that suddenly has a earlier deadline or maybe it’s your spouse telling you to wash the dishes after a bad day, smile and think: “That is LITERALLY the only thing I want to do right now!” |
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