Time flies when you're having fun. Time moves at a snail's pace when you're in front of a classroom full of Korean high school students who have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Good thing it's usually not the latter.
It feels like it's been more than a while since I have written a substantial blog. As I have become more comfortable in my school, at my home-stay, in Hwasun, and with Korea as a whole, I have become more busy ... which I deem to be a pretty good thing. This also makes me much more tired ... who knew that working 9 hour days would be so exhausting? Hello grown up world.
So instead of recanting the past two (or so) glorious weeks in a lengthy story complete with interwoven plot lines, twists, turns, and exaggerated metaphors, I will instead compile the interesting happenings of my life into a bulleted (is that a word?) list. Please forgive me, tonight I am too tired to write transition sentences.
But first, an Internet shout-out to my two lovely g-mas (that's Internet slang meaning grandma, for you ... Betty Lou and Irene). Your lovely letters, birthday gifts, prayers, and thoughts (even if they are directed towards a horribly outdated poster) are very much appreciated.
And now on to the bullets ...
I'm sad to report that my host-sister, Eun Su, lost her school election. However, I was told it was super close (I think she lost by only 14 votes), but she wasn't playing horseshoes, so she was still a little sad. My host-mother was by far the most upset. She explained to me, in a gloriously gratuitous flailing of hand-gestures one morning over breakfast, that one of the students Eun-Su was running against was the self-proclaimed bully of the first grade class. Apparently he was forcing students to vote for his team using only his bully powers. This, was enough to cause Eun-Su to lose the election, so I guess his strategy was pretty effective. But when I found out who this bully was, I was pretty surprised. He is actually one of my students, and one I definitely put in the "kind of weird" pile.
(Yes, I categorize my students - at least the more animated/loud/strange ones- - into distinct piles.) So I guess I put him in the wrong pile.
So Eun-Su is now back to studying forever, and not running the school. It would have been kind of nice if she won. I could then say I'm living with "the president" (yet one more thing I have in common with Michelle) whenever anyone asks where I'm staying in Korea.
Last week, after the election Eun-Su's opponent (the new president of the school) who I liked and put into the "hey, I like you" pile, gave me and some of the other teachers at school who helped with her campaign our own individual buckets of fried chicken. No joke. I wasn't completely sure if she knew that I am living with Eun-Su and that if anything I was working against her (that sounds pretty intense), but maybe she did and thus the bucket of chicken and not bananas. Koreans are sneaky.
So I passed off the bucket of chicken to the teacher I sit next to and he gladly accepted. Earlier in the day he told me I looked like an "Indian", so I guess this was my peace offering.
I have no idea why he would think I look anything like Pocahontas, but I figured it could be worse. Oh how tempted I was to start singing "Colors of the Wind".
I have started an English speaking club at school. Not too fancy ... me and a group of 8 or so students every Wednesday and Friday morning to come to school early and sit around and speak in English for about an hour.
What? ... you thought we spoke French?
Each week they pick a topic or two and I prepare my Americanized version, while they prepare their Korean version. Our most recent topic was food and the differing food cultures of the states and Korea. So I basically had to defend the glorious nation of America, "No we don't only eat fried twinkies, although that is an option." and try to make them understand that not all Americans eat 75% of their meals on a stick, while they explain to me just how different all the 5,000 types of kimchi are.
It is really nice to spend time with Korean students who are really interested in learning English and have come to find it somewhat fun ... something kind of difficult when they have English text books shoved down their throat since elementary school. Anyways, next week we are discussing American vs. Korean television.
I'm expecting a good presentation on the 50 or so Korean dramas that are on TV each night. (It seems like when Koreans find something they like (i.e. kimchi, dramas, boy bands, etc) they produce it in mass quantities. No joke. The largest boy band is none other than Korea's own "Super Junior" with 13 members. They're legit.
I'm more than likely going to talk about the Office and maybe Jeopardy. Show them the good stuff.
Yesterday an ajumma (an old, crazy Korean woman, who I suspect exists only to transport various sized loads of used cardboard around Hwasun with a cart) approached me while I was waiting for the bus. After staring at me intensely for a good 30 seconds she said some stuff in Korean and then proceeded to give me a hand massage for about a minute. Then she walked away. That cardboard has places to be.
I recently joined the Hwasun High School "Sports Dance" club out of curiosity and the fact that I believe there is nothing Tom Delay can do that I can't. So far I'm right.
As of now I have attended two classes/meetings/gatherings in the school's gymnasium, where I have learned the very basic steps of the paso doble.
The club consists of me, two other female teachers (who are actually pretty good at dancing, and who's fancy stilettos totally outshine my Nikes) one male teacher (who comes about 30 minutes late and then proceeds to do his own dances in the back of the room) and around 20 or so students. I believe some are there solely to escape the classroom, others genuinely want to learn to dance, and a small percentage come to watch me and the other not-so-advanced students flail around.
I'm having a good time so far ... it is definitely interesting to be a part of an instructional club that is taught in a language that you don't understand. But luckily for me, my body speaks the language of dance.
My host-mom has started to act more freely around me. This new sense of comfortableness has materialized (or dematerialized) in her no longer wearing pants around the house. She now deems large shirts acceptable house attire. I don't really have a problem with it ... it just strikes me as odd. At orientation we were practically forced to believe that all Koreans are extremely modest and showing any bit of skin that isn't below the knee or above the chin is the 8th deadliest sin.
Regardless, I am still afraid to wear anything that reveals my very sexy shoulders. My host-mom, however does not seem to have a problem with that.
On a similar note, my host-mother's birthday was this past weekend. I stayed home with the family and celebrated. This celebration took the form of a family dinner on Friday night and a dinner with me and her friends on Sunday.
The family dinner was extremely pleasant. I finally was able to weasel my way into the kitchen to do something besides eat. I made a giant plate of spaghetti and some garlic bread for dinner, while my host-sisters made a salad and got a cake from a local bakery. My host-mom ate it up (literally). She absolutely loved it.
I have to admit that it was probably the worst food I have ever made ... in that there was little to no flavor (Korean groceries sell nothing but hot sauce, hotter sauce, and why would you ever want to put this in your mouth sauce), and the bread tasted like something that came out about 20 minutes too late of your Easy Bake oven. But my host-family (save for the dad, who requested rice about 30 seconds into the meal) thoroughly enjoyed it and felt really fancy eating "authentic" Western food. Oh, the culture I bring.
On Sunday night I went to dinner with my host-mom and two of her friends at a local restaurant in Hwasun, to continue the birthday celebration. And the meal was, I have to admit, pretty disgusting. It was filled with various types of octopus, shrimp, and other things that should serve only as Ariel's best friend. But I sat through all of dinner (which ended up lasting about 2 and a half hours) with a goofy smile on my face and some mushrooms in my stomach as they spoke about God knows what in Korean. Well, actually God and pretty much every Korean knows what.
The highlight of the dinner, however, was my host-mother's choice of clothing. There are no words to describe the insanity of the things that she decided to wear for dinner. She did wear pants though. Always a start.
Somewhere on this tiny peninsula she managed to find and buy a pair of jeans that could only be described as the Korean version of "JNCO" ... super baggy, covered with faux patches or various materials, and pockets that came down to her knees. (I think the last might be due to the fact that she's really only 3 feet tall). Along with her glorious jeans she wore rain boots, a red scarf, and a gray skull cap. When we walked out the door to leave I questioned if we were really going out to eat, or if she was taking me to some type of underground hip hop club or rap battle. (Is that what people who still wear JNCO jeans do these days?)
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