3 DAYS - CHON CHON EE

This means slow. I often repeat this to my kids when they read an excerpt at one hundred miles an hour, ignoring pronunciation and intonation.

Today is my last night in this apartment. I just made my final cup of tea. I did my yoga. I poured my whiskey and here I am. This has been my routine most week nights while working on this project.

In the middle of my yoga sequence, I pressed my forehead into the ground during pigeon pose.  I rested there, took a good three breaths, and checked in with my feelings. Nothing intense registered.

Today feels completely normal, except for that bit where I turned my apartment upside down and shoved everything into bags.

I still have a lot to do, and perhaps a first, none of it's been manically formulated into list form. I'm serene, yet somehow still adequately putting out fires. I recall holding the same temperament before my departure to Korea. I feel steady and balanced; a little calmer, a little patienter, a little lighter and yes, a little slower.

I feel open to transition.

I also accept that at any moment I could become completely unhinged.

I'll get on that plane in a few days and that's just real. I'll walk slowly to the gate, under-slept and wide eyed.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Chon chon ee.

4 DAYS - FAMILY MATTERS

I was lucky enough to have my immediate family here for Christmas and New Year's last year.

That was rejuvenating. It's been a joy every time someone has come for a visit. 

Visitors are exciting because they force me to ponder as if I've just arrived. I remember how strange everything smelled, my first observations and my initial judgements.

I had my fair share.

I had six. My mother. My father. My sister. Ian. Allie. And Chris.

Visitors also douse me with "home" love, and that comes in the form of Reese cups AND long hugs. Thanks to everyone who made the haul. It was special and unique to share this experience.

SEOUL // DECEMBER 2011

MUDEUNG // DECEMBER 2011

MUDEUNG // AUGUST 2012

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

In case you were wondering, this is what the Seoul subway looks like at 2 am on New Years Eve.

SEOUL // JANUARY 2012

5 DAYS - SPACE

I’m working on staying present and nurturing a foundation rooted in patience.

Space can ignite truth or burn it, allowing for the possibility of a mind concoction based on false idealism and dangerous expectations.

At a distance I can create what I don’t know. I can compose a reality from fleeting thoughts. All I have is what’s in my brain. There’s no action to confirm my random hypothesizes.

I’ve learned to make peace with absolute truths when it comes to distance; to let love and relationships blossom, and to allow distance to spark transformation, equally for the individual and the unit.

I frequently hope I’m not tricking myself. I hope the space and distance that I sometimes want to squander provides breathing room for personal exaltation and exceptional growth that’s compatible with my loved one's versions of the same. Reintegration presents challenges. I hope I’m secure enough to accept change, keep my thoughts concrete and to trust the outcome.

Science says we can't be two places at once, but I'm not above clenching on to the ideal. Truth be told: love conquers time. Transcendence is inspired by action and intention, and in that I accept the things that space does. I know what I want and I trust that's compatible with my kin. We are all evolving. We are all adhering to someone somewhere; I just hope I’m true to myself, even if that truth is ever altering.

I'm looking forward to obliterating space, although that feeling is still far from real. I'm preparing my mind for a potent cocktail doused with devastation and exhilaration. I'm focused on significant human connection and a bunch of nights under the stars. Not a lot has made it onto my schedule this coming year that doesn't uphold one of those two intentions.

"WHEREVER YOU ARE, BE ALL THERE." -JIM ELLIOT

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

6 DAYS - ISLANDS

When it comes to islands, the Internet can't seem to agree on numbers so I'll just say this - Korea has a lot. Islands have hosted some of my favorite weekends. From Jeollanamdo, the province where I live, you can hit an island, get a day in of sunning and frolicking, and still return home before the last bus leaves the bus terminal (10:30). Or you can just camp on the beach. Here's my island highlights.

Imjado

TULIP FESTIVAL //APRIL 2012

TULIP FESTIVAL // APRIL 2012

Cheongsando

// MAY 2012

//MAY 2012

Bigeumdo

// JUNE 2012

// JUNE 2012

Ulleungdo

// OCTOBER 2012

// OCTOBER 2012

Dokdo

Dok do is a contended Island.  The only real reason to go there is for bragging rights. Here's mine.

// OCTOBER 2012

// OCTOBER 2012

7 DAYS - UGLY TRUTHS

According to Facebook, all I do is climb mountains, hang out with foreigners and party.

According to my blog, Korea is perfect: welcoming, safe, convenient and breathtaking.

So here's the annoying bits.

Trash is not managed very well.

Unless you've been wearing ear plugs, I'm assuming you've heard Psy's "Gangnam Style" and perhaps you've even seen the video. If not, a quick Google search will suffice. In the beginning there's a clip of him and two cute girls walking down the street in a whirlwind of trash. That's a humorous view on a serious truth. It's everywhere, not Central America "everywhere," but compiled poorly and in heaps on many streets.

Korea smells like kimchi. Surprise.

If it's Korean, it's number one. Sorry, Apple. Try again with your silly smartphone.

There's only toilet paper half the time.

Sometimes you have to use a squatter.

Korea offers only terrible excuses for cheese.

You can smoke basically everywhere. In the hallway. In restaurants. In the washroom. And a lot of people smoke.

I'm going to make three  huge generalizing statements here, so watch out:

Koreans love to follow trends. When I got here, it was Polo Ralph Lauren. Everyone had the same (unisex) button up with the large RL decal on the left pocket. Now it's Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch. It seems hard to convince them that something is legit unless you've already persuaded their next to kin and five best friends.

Second, Koreans love phones. This goes for children and elderly alike. Never have a seen such a majority in tune with that tiny piece of technology.

Third, old ladies are entitled to whatever they want. They walk straight to the front of the line. They'll give you an elbow in the back for a seat on the bus. In charades, they'll insist you fix your face.  (They will also kiss your forehead and give out a jolly laugh when you purchase produce from them on the street. I think they are lovely.)

There's my feeble attempt at a balanced argument for Korea. YIPEE.

8 DAYS - KOREAN KINDNESS

I am on my way to work. An old lady is collecting cardboard for pocket change. She has on the ajumma (old lady) visor, the ajumma pants and the ajumma shoes. She is 5 foot 2, and that's being generous. I have my head down and I'm thinking that this might be okay - leaving might be okay. She hobbles right on over to me, flashes me a big smile and exclaims, "IPPO DA." (translation: beautiful). I look to the sky. I shake my head. Oh, Korea. You're so good.

I am sick. Can't sleep. Can't eat. And I'm crying in the front of my classroom. I'm not sobbing, but my eyes are filled with tears and occasionally one escapes down my cheek. I try and compose myself and get the energy to yell. Be quiet, please. From the front row a girl says to me, "teacher. fighting!" and flashes me a hopeful smile. Now I actually cry.

I am at the super market. I need kale. Kale season is apparently over. The man knows I want all the kale. I always buy all the kale. So he goes to the back of the store and brings back a ginormous box. "KALE," he says. I am happy.

I am walking home. The lady who runs the corner store I frequent calls me over to her shop. "Sit," she says. She pours me beer. She hands me chopsticks and then she shoves a plate of raw fish, wasabi, lettuce and garlic in front of me. I eat. She says something about my face. And then she tells me I am beautiful. She doesn't let me leave until I'm full.

In all, I know I will see the friends who matter again in this life. We will catch up another time. We will travel together, sleep on one another's couches or meet up in distant lands. I trust that. What I'm going to miss is Korea. It's people. It's culture. It's abundance of kindness. It's cradled me. It shocked my system and then reeled me in like a fish.

I want to see my people at home, but I am not ready to leave. Nope. Not even a little bit. Here I am on the brink of departing, and I am constantly constructing ways in my brain for me to come back. It's wasteful to worry. If I want to return, I will. I'll buy that plane ticket. We're only really ever a plane ticket from anywhere.

Mudeung // NOVEMBER 2011

These men bought our food and then shared their makgeoli with Chelin and I. Following that, they offered to drive us to a neighboring mountain, Wolchulsan, come Spring. In other cultures this might be seen as suggestive - two middle-aged men offering to cart around two young women. Not in Korea. In Korea, this is normal... this is straight kindness.

9 DAYS - PEACE SIGNS

It just sort of.. happens.

I think there is an unspoken consensus that we all wish we did this less, but when the camera comes out, the deuces fly. Peace sign (self induced) photo bomb. THE IRONY.

10 DAYS- GIRAFFE

You can't take life too seriously out here or you'll just end up crying a lot.

You're bound to walk into school feebly masking a big fat zit and some kid is going to ask, "TEACHER, WHAT'S ON YOUR FACE?"

Kids just don't really care.

If you have dark circles, they are going to point them out. If you're having a bad hair day, watch out. A few months ago I walked into a class full of ten year old's and one exclaimed, "Teacher. hair. level down." Which in his terms means that my hair was a total fail.

I'm also the "butt" of a pretty long standing joke among adults in my life. In April I went camping with a group of seven or so the night before we were meant to run a 10k. Around one in the morning, I decided to do what any smart person would do and crawl to bed. My friends were not impressed. They began making jokes around the campfire trying to pry me back out, but I wasn't having it.

Finally, just as things had settled down and they'd found another topic of conversation, my friend Brad exclaims,

"Who would win in a being tall contest, Mara or a giraffe?"

I wish this was a funnier story to tell, but for some reason it always comes out a bit bland. However, I got out of the tent I was laughing so hard.

A few months later we were at the World's Fair in Yeosu. In the African pavilion was a giraffe statue. Casually, Katie beckoned me,

"Hey Mara. Go stand next to that giraffe."

I did so without even thinking.

Looks like I lost.

11 DAYS - MEDICAL SYSTEM

As I'm sicker than I've been in years, it's an appropriate time for me to address a magical thing in Korea: The Medical System.

Yesterday my boss asked me, "Did you catch a cold?"

And yes. Yes, I did. I caught a cold. It might have had something to do with that bit of last weekend where I decided to  climb a mountain at 3 in the morning to catch the sunrise. Or the lack of sleep I committed to. Now it's Tuesday during my last full week in Korea and I can't breathe. My eyes are puffy and watering. I wake up sweating, then freezing, then sweating again. I'm wearing neck warmers and wool sweaters and it's still 65 degrees in the afternoon.

BUT, doctor to the rescue!

Regardless of what you enter for, there's two procedures that are bound to happen when you check into a hospital in Korea. First, they are going to hook you up to an IV. Second, they are going to give you a shot in the ass.

Considering the language barrier, the first time the latter happens it's quite shocking. One minute you're on your back. The next you're on your side getting a nice pat to the bum followed by a needle.

Tonight the school's bus driver dropped me at the hospital after work. After I explained my symptoms,  I was horizontal with an IV intact in under four minutes. Shortly after, a lady came to my bedside. "Hip," she said. And I turned over. From there I passed out. I awoke in sweat and I could hear the nurse watching cartoons.

I'm sure there are flaws, but they are definitely not in efficiency or affordability. If you have insurance, it's dirt cheap to get fixed. Feeling ill? Just pop in real quick to get some meds. Once a doctor spent an hour with me and the bill was only $12. In a shared room, my friend Kerryn stayed in a hospital bed for five nights (including three meals a day) for less than $8 a day. That's convenient.

A related story:
I got some x-rays done a few weeks ago on my chest. In the larger hospitals, all the rooms are labeled in both Korean and English. It should also be noted that visiting the doctor is similar to a pit stop: your vitals, teeth, heart, sight, hearing and blood are all checked in 30 minutes flat. As the nurse shuffled me from the room where I get my blood drawn to the room where I'm meant to get an x-ray, I notice the sign on the door. It's in all caps. BREAST SHOOTING ROOM.

I laugh.

This is what I've been staring at for the last hour and a half:

12 DAYS - KIMBAP NARA

The literal translation here is "seaweed rice nation." This is Korean fast food. This is the place you get your late night snack, your quick lunch, and your kimbap for the mountain. They sell a little of everything - cheese ramen, kimchi soup (kimchi jjigae), noodles, rice, fried rice with kimchi (kimchi bokeombap), bibimbap (rice and vegetables), curry, eggs and it continues.

A typical menu is posted on the wall: (1,000 KRW is about 1 USD)

Photo by: The Gluten-Free Nomad

I love these shops. Although nothing fancy, they are cheap, fast, delicious and if you make the right choices, relatively healthy. Many are also open 24/7. In the winter I stop in a few times a week to pick up something pipping hot on my way home from work.

You can also eat here alone. In most Korean restaurants you must be accompanied. I've tried to work out the reasoning for this. The primary reason is surely money related. The restaurant uses energy to heat your hot pot or stove. Eating is also very communal. You don't see a lot of people eating or sipping coffee alone. Perhaps it's just most comfortable for everyone if you chose to eat with another.

Here's me in my favorite kimbap shop in my neighborhood. NOM NOM NOM. And between my chopsticks in some tuna kimbap.

Korean food doesn't photograph well. Every shot looks like a terrible blob of rice and weird piles of brownish red food. Fourteen months of attempts, and this is the best kimbap shot.

13 DAYS - LOOKING LIKE A FOOL

I'd like to think that I dress pretty well. Scratch that. I know that I dress well. I've been told. It's on that list of things that I somehow do well without really trying.

Many people are fortunate enough to understand taste and can throw together a fine meal in minutes. I happen to know how to put together an outfit without looking like an idiot.

I'll just go ahead and put that on my life resume filed under skills that don't lead to jobs.

Somehow in Korea I misplaced the motivation to utilize this trait because I feel invisible. Of course, this is highly imprecise because, in fact, I stand out more than ever. I am tall, blue eyed, have the Western high nose, and among that, I now have a piercing on my face.

I'm not exactly blending with the background.

Still there's a freedom that inspires me to go in public looking absolutely ridiculous. This last weekend I was walking through downtown in seven shades of green, a swim suit top over my shirt, leg warmers, confetti pants and a Hitler stache.

Yes. I had a Hitler mustache in board marker on my face. I have no idea how I got nominated for that. It was my friend Tammy's birthday and she wanted to have a K-themed party simply because she wanted to dress as a kimbap (Korean sushi roll). I was a "kiwi kaleidoscope," which at some special point in the day turned into a "Hitler kiwi kaleidoscope."

During a moment of reflection I stopped in the middle of the street to announce,

"You guys realize that in two weeks I have to be a proper human being."

It seems I'm always wearing mismatched clothes because I threw the wrong shirt in the bag or the temperature shifted twenty degrees midday.

I am interested in why we do this. I say "we," because I am completely not alone. Truly, my incident is not isolated. Katie wears heart-shaped sunglasses everywhere. Tammy sports capes. It seems there's always a themed gathering going on and I've seen a decade's supply of animal costumes.

There's a festive bunch out here. That's undeniable. I'll miss these wacko's and as I slowly deplete my wardrobe, I'll think of you as I rebuild.

Here's to looking silly -
to utilizing props,
to letting your guard down,
to being festive
and to making it work.

14 DAYS - GETTING PUNCHED IN THE MOUTH

on accident.

The Korean girl who did this is kind and sweet. We were in a club and for whatever reason, she was dancing about with her locker key positioned erect between her knuckles. I was casually walking and got struck in the mouth.

She'd be horrified to know I even remember this happened. (The perks of photo cataloging.) She also apologized to me profusely, only after I stood there stunned, and then quickly ran to the bathroom to confirm the events.

 
 And there's the one and only time I've been punched in the mouth.

 Here's to that.

15 DAYS - TEMPLES

BAEKYANGSA // APRIL 2012

SEORAKSAN // MAY 2012

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

SEONUNSA // NOVEMEBER 2011

If you're a person who enjoys mountains, you'll have a hard time avoiding temples. You don't need to be Buddhist to enjoy them. Listen for the monks chanting. Take a peek at a person worshiping. Enter for some quiet time in a sacred place.

When Japan occupied Korea, they burnt down the majority of the temples. Most of these are replicas, but I hand it to a nation for doing such a thing.

It seems wrong to give a "cheers" to a set of sacred buildings, so I won't.

So temples. Yeah, temples. Thanks for being beautiful.

16 DAYS - JOB

I rarely talk about it here, but I do actually work. Yes, I have a title. I am a teacher.

It should be ingrained by now. Save a few obvious contenders, "teacher" is by far the noun I hear most. If anything under the age of twelve needs my attention, there's a pretty good chance they're shouting "TEACHER. TEACHER. TEACHER." until I make some indication that I've heard their wolf cries.

I'm actually still Miss Handsome, or generally just, Handsome Teacher.

Of all the things I did not anticipate feeling at this point in the deal, it was missing children.

I've never been super attached to kids. The same goes for animals and pets, or really anything I am meant to take care of. I love a select few. The rest are nice, but really just ornaments on a tree full of complex, full-sized humans that I adore.

This past week as I took long draws at their faces from the front of the classroom, I realized I consider them my peers. I don't recall being too good at being a kid. Maybe I was in my head too much, stuck on my internal bantering or perhaps a bit too conceited to ponder the rest of the world.

Point blank - Children have taught me that I am not cool.

Now I sing songs, dance, do charades, laugh at myself, make funny faces, scream, shout, pout, take chances, fail and wiggle.

Yes, I am making a cliche point - Teaching is so rewarding. But 18 months ago I was lying in a bed considering if it was possible for me to stand up in front of a group of 12 children and lead some kind of discussion, and now I dance on stages in front of hundreds of people. Or maybe that just happened once.

So here's what I've learned: Life is a series of Whatevers.

These are my two favorite kids: Steve and Johnny. They were in a class together, but one of them moved. They are polite, focused, sincere and just hilarious. On the right is Bofill Teacher. He's been my foreign co-teacher since June. Before that it was Frederikson Teacher, and he's actually coming back in two weeks to take my job. I'm learning it's hard to stay out of this country once you've had a taste.

Here's to teaching -
For inviting children into my life.
For paying me the big bucks.
For giving me confidence and forcing me to ACT A FOOL.

17 DAYS - GAMJATANG (감자탕)

After bean balls , my next deathbed request is gamjatang. Gamja means potato, but this is actually pork bone soup.

The vertebrae are separated into pieces with the meat still attached and then heated with vegetables in a hot pot. The pork spine can be brought into a smaller bowl in front of you, and chopsticks or tongs can be used to remove the meat. With enough staring, it might be possible to will the meat off - It's that tender.

A special bin is placed on the table for disposing the inedible bits.  After that, you pour a few ladles of vegetables and broth atop the meat and EAT.

What's absolutely dangerous about this meal is that many gamjatang restaurants are open 24/7.

Since we've already discussed my deathbed requests, I might as well throw this out there:
In my next life I'd like to have a stomach and metabolism system equipped to devour one of these alone.

 

Here's to gamjatang -

For your hearty, spicy, delectable taste.

And for answering my late night calls.

18 DAYS - CHERRY BLOSSOMS

They come in April; they leave in April. Catch 'em quick.

Here's to cherry blossoms -
For representing spring.
For being simply glorious.

19 DAYS - CHRIS

Chris' favorite phrase:

YEAH, WELL, __________________  POOP. Fill in the blank with anything you can think of.

When learning about different kinds of sentences:

Tell me a declarative sentence.
You are stupid.
Okay. And an exclamatory sentence.
You are REALLY stupid!
...And an interrogative sentence.
Why are you so stupid?
And how about an imperative sentence?
Stop being so stupid.

Touche, little man. Touche.

This is actually a really terrible representation of this kid. Chris is very smart, super smart, and there is no denying that he is aware.

My pathetic bantering is no fun. He wants to talk about aerospace and history. I can't hold these conversations in my own language. Sorry, pal. Let's read "The Twits" and be on with it.

Here's to Chris-
For making me laugh.
For testing my patience.
For sky rocketing me head first into the mind of an exceptionally intelligent 12-year-old boy.

20 DAYS - BON CHON

At any given time during a Korean meal it can be assumed that there are a lot of bowls on the table. The small bowls are called bon chon, or Korean side dishes. The most common, of course, is kimchi.

This is my own theory, but bon chon works as a concept in Korea because meals are family style. You order for the group and therefore nobody needs their own plate space.You have your chopsticks and you simply pick around the table, shoveling tiny pieces of goodness into your mouth.

Bon chon make it easy to try new things. You don't order bon chon. You order something else, and then anywhere from 3-10 side dishes arrive for "free." Bon chon are also bottomless.

My favorite is standard kimchi. I also like gamja jorim (braised potatoes), seasame leaf kimchi, cucumber kimchi, bean sprouts and the various mushrooms. Bon chon have also conveniently let me try larvae, octopus and an uncountable amount of unnameable, questionable foods.

Here's to bon chon -
For larvae.
For making it normal to reach across all my neighbors for a bite of food.
For securing the fact that I'll get my hand swatted in America for sticking my fork in someone else's meal.

21 DAYS - DAMYANG DINNERS

My friend, Ryan, on Damyang Dinners:

"You ladies don't just have a normal girls night where you snack on chocolate and talk about boys. You have a wine and food massacre and things just get ridiculous."

DAMYANG // OCTOBER 2011

DAMYANG // FEBRUARY 2012

Damyang is a town 20 minutes outside of Gwangju, and Katie has an apartment there. We refer to her house as the winter cabin, because once you've arrived, there's no easy access back into the city until the morning. In addition to your ingredients, if you're going to Katie's you bring your toothbrush and your sweatpants.

We cook a lot. We eat a lot. We drink a lot. We talk a lot. We laugh a lot.

Her apartment is also about seven times the size of just about everyone else's. She has two bedrooms, two beds, two fridges, two kitchen tables, two washing machines and so much floor space. Her kitchen has an open landscape and allows for multiple hands to get messy.

And remember those soups I mentioned? Yeah. YUM.

22 DAYS - BOOZE IN A BAG

Because cups are over rated.

SEOUL // DECEMBER 2012

Here's to booze in a bag -
For being un-classy and spill-proof.