Shopping in Korea: A Contact Sport

I hate, HATE, H-A-T-E shopping in Korea. It's most definitely an exercise in futility and I usually end up giving up before I actually get what I need.

In shopping for clothing, there is the most blatant concept of nothing fitting me. I can usually find shirts, but I don't even try to find pants or bottoms of any kind that will fit my extra-long length. I'm 5'11" or 180 cm; I'm much taller than most Korean women. I pretty much don't shop for clothing in this country.

There is also the joy of grocery shopping in Korea. When I lived in Dangjin, I despised when I would run out of necessary foods and I would try to piece together a meal with whatever I had left in my apartment, because I just did not want to deal with the circus of being a foreigner shopping for food.

The grocery store I would frequent in Dangjin was pretty large, but I was still stared at and followed. I wish I could say I'm used to being stared at by now considering I've been in Korea for over a year, but I'm not. I wish that was different, but I'm still not comfortable with being stared at. It doesn't bother me when children stare at me, but when full-grown adults stare at me I want to smack the teeth out of their head.

I usually try to ignore it, but as of late I just stare back and most of them feel uncomfortable and awkwardly look away until they think I'm not staring at them anymore. Then when they think it's safe to stare at me again they look back at me and realize I'm still staring at them. This continues for quite awhile. It's been a fun little game for me, especially on the bus. I often wonder if the people who've been staring at me and hurriedly exit the bus are getting off at their actual stop or are just trying to get away from me because I won't stop staring at them. I'd like to think I've cured them from staring at other foreigners they encounter. It's wishful thinking, I know, but I'd like to think I've made a difference.

When I would be shopping in Dangjin, the store clerks would follow me around the store. They would pretend to straighten the shelves, but interestingly enough the only products that needed straightening were those that were closest to me. Coincidence? I wasn't sure if they thought I was going to try to steal something because I was a shady foreigner or if they were trying to be super duper helpful. Also, when I would be in the store for a few minutes I would notice the music on the store's loud speakers would change to English music. I even heard Michael Franti a couple times! I can't imagine they would play English-language music just for one foreigner, but I did notice the change quite a few times. I really appreciated hearing Michael Franti , or another American musician I knew, but it definitely wasn't necessary.

I was told from a friend about a foreign teacher that came to the Dangjin area a few years ago, she was one of the first foreign English teachers in the area. When she went grocery shopping she would have clerks and shoppers alike follow her around the store and look in her cart to see what she was buying. Within a couple weeks of her arriving in town, she began to notice signs under all the products she normally purchased. She asked her co-teacher what the signs said and she was told the signs said, "The foreigner buys this." She came unglued and threw a fit that there were signs at the grocery store broadcasting what she was buying.

I absolutely hate shopping in department stores. It's the custom in Korea to immediately greet a shopper and latch onto their side and follow them throughout the department. Obviously there is a language barrier, which makes communicating difficult but sales associates continue to follow you around and shove things in your face telling you to buy them. It's really overwhelming to be followed around incessantly and have things shoved in your face repeatedly. I would much rather prefer to be left alone and be allowed to find things on my own. If I need help, I will come to you kind and helpful sales person. It makes shopping a suffocating and claustrophic experience and needless to say, I don't spend much time in Korea shopping.

Skinship

Koreans are very affectionate people.
Obviously the young children hug and hold hands, but adults are very affectionate, too. It reminds me of being on the playground when I was a young girl in elementary school and holding hands with my girlfriends.
At what age does this stop? I don't remember. But in Korea it doesn't really stop. I will walk down the street and see men arm-in-arm or with their arms draped over another's shoulders.
They have a word here, "Skinship." It means the relationship one builds when affection is shown between people. My friends' hogwan directors said "Skinship" is very important in building trusting relationships with children. If a foreign teacher hugs, tickles or strokes a childs hair often, then that child will be more trusting, loving and affectionate in return. It's a very important aspect of Korean culture.
On the flip-side of that is the adversely opposite way Korean men and women view affection between the sexes once they've reached a certain age. I consider myself a very affectionate person, I always hug and touch my friends, both male and female. Koreans see this as a problem. Koreans don't believe men and women can just be friends, there must be a romantic relationship if men and women touch in any way. I have many male friends and I'm constantly asked if the men in my pictures or my male friends in Korea are my boyfriend. I try to explain that in the Western cultures it's very common for men and women to be just friends. This is a concept Koreans don't understand.
I've explained this particular cultural difference until I was blue in the face and it's like communicating with a brick wall. It's just something Korean people can't fathom.
I hugged my male adult students on their last day at the Foreign Language Institute and I could tell that many of them were very uncomfortable with the idea of hugging a female, especially a teacher, but some were much more comfortable with it and gave me bear hugs.
I've seen my adult male students, who are "tough military men," hug, lay their heads on each other's shoulders and otherwise touch often, and then when I talk to Koreans about homosexuality they say the "idea" is something that doesn't occur in Korea. I'm not saying that all men that show affection to each other are gay, but I just find it so interesting that "homosexuality does not exist" in South Korea.
A few of my foreign friends here in Korea are gay and one of the Korean teachers at one of the schools knows one of the foreign teachers is gay. The Korean teacher said he felt so bad for the foreign teacher because "their are no gay people in Korea and he must be so lonely." We made sure to inform the Korean teacher (after we stopped laughing) that this foreign teacher got much more play than most of us in Korea and there are MOST DEFINITELY gay Korean people in Korea. Just because the culture as a whole refuses to acknowledge homosexuality, doesn't mean it doesn't exist and thrive.

Balance

I started my new job in Korea approximately 5 weeks ago and I can't get over how incredibly different my experiences have been the second time around.
I guess one must experience the bad in order to appreciate the good.
My new job rocks. I work with adults who are already pretty good at English, so we just get to chat all day basically. I don't start work until 10:20 a.m. and I have a lunch break for 1 1/2 hours and then sometimes I won't have class again until 3:30 p.m. The schedule changes every 3 months with new students. So sometimes I'll have a 1 1/2-hour lunch break and sometimes I'll have a 3 1/2-hour lunch break. I finish my day at 5:20 p.m. It's flippin' fantastic and a far cry from my schedule at She Devil's House of Hell.
My students, so far, have been pretty amazing, too. They are so entertaining and so incredibly helpful. They always want to hang out, too. My students are always asking me if I want to go to dinner with them or go the gym together. They are quite fantastic actually.
I live on base, but my apartment is huge and I have many amenities I didn't have in my last apartment, like windows. Windows are awesome! Especially when you haven't had them for a year!!! I also have a stove (!!). Koreans don't really bake so having a stove is huuuuuge! Only two of us on base have stoves, so the other three Conversational English teachers are pretty jealous. It's amazing to be able to make things again. All my friends are jealous and rightfully so.
I also have a bathtub! Granted, when I sit in the bathtub, my knees are hitting my chin, but I am not complaining. It's amazing to take a bath again. I'm also very, very, VERY thankful for my double-sized bed. I had a single bed in my last apartment and I felt like a little kid. Although I really shouldn't complain. When a few of my friends came to Korea, they weren't given beds at all and were just given blankets while their school directors pointed at the floor.
My fellow English teachers on base are my neighbors and it actually feels like I'm back in college and living in a dorm, although we have our own kitchens and bathrooms and we're definitely lacking those pesky Resident Advisors...
I was talking to a friend the other day and he said it was just so nice to see me so chilled out and happy. He said he's never really seen me like that before. Three months ago, he said, I was so stressed out and hating life, but now I'm completely different. I told him now he got to see the real me and to see me happy.
Life is pretty good. I'm excited for the future and I'm glad I made the decision to stay in Korea a little bit longer.

Crazy Train

The last several weeks at the lovely E. Bo Young Talking Club will be time I will fortunately and unfortunately always remember. I've never encountered a bigger whack job in my life.

As per my contract, I'm entitled to a free return flight to my home country. I talked to She Devil about paying for a one-way plane ticket to New Zealand or Australia instead. I wanted to go visit my best friend in New Zealand and my good friends in Australia. The plane ticket would have been cheaper than sending me home, so I figured she would go for it.

Unfortunately I had to tell She Devil that I was going to be working at a different job in Korea, so she knew I was coming back to Korea. Therefore, she got this great idea that she wouldn't have to give me a plane ticket home, because I wasn't actually leaving the country. I told her since it was in my contract, then she was obligated to follow it and give me a plane ticket. She said it wasn't fair to her to have to pay for a ticket if I was coming back to the country. I told her it wasn't fair for me to not get what was stated in my contract when I fulfilled my end of the contract. She didn't see it that way; she just didn't think it was fair to her. I was really proud of myself, I didn't even raise my voice. Yelling got me nowhere with the psycho.

I called the Talking Club headquarters yet again and asked them how I should proceed. They then informed me that because I wasn't leaving the country, She Devil wasn't responsible for paying for a return flight to my home city despite what the contract said. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the point of a contract for these exact circumstances? Apparently contracts don't mean as much in Korea as they do in other countries.

I got off the phone and was thankful I was alone. I wanted to hit something so hard it would break and then break my hand. I was furious. I was getting screwed... again... and there was nothing I could do about it short of involving the Korean Labor Board, which would have cost more than it was worth and likely wouldn't have done much anyway.

I really hope Karmic justice is served with a heavy hand.

I tried every angle I could think of: trying to tell She Devil I had changed my mind and wanted to go home, trying to tell her the job was changed and my start date was extended, trying to tell her she was acting illegally and unfairly; nothing was working. At one point, she agreed to pay for the one-way ticket to New Zealand and then when it got closer to me actually finishing the job and needing a release letter so I could transfer my visa to my next place of employment, she backed out and told me she would either pay for the ticket or write the letter. She knew full-well that I needed that letter to transfer my visa, so I was completely stuck and she knew it all along. I've never been so close to lighting someone on fire in my life.

Apparently she had a few conversations with the hogwan owners in the area and they said she should give me enough money to buy a one-way ticket to Japan or purchase the one-way ticket for me. Somehow, they reasoned, that was a fair trade for not buying a return ticket home and writing me the release letter I needed. Umm, that equates to about $250.

I knew I was stuck and, more importantly, she knew I was stuck. I had no choice but to just bend over and get screwed for the 9,000th time.

I opted to take the money instead of the plane ticket, which ended up being a really good choice. The immigration office had to take my passport and alien registration card (which is incredibly frightening) for the visa transfer process and they ended up holding my documents hostage for 3 weeks, which makes any international travel aspirations moot. I couldn't even travel to the DMZ, a trip I had been wanting to take since I got to Korea.

I was tired of fighting. I'd spent a very long, stressful and extremely painful year fighting without any form of victory with this horned, incompetent excuse for a lifeform and I was just tired. I had to give her what she wanted to get what I needed. I was so close to calling it quits and just going home for good, but I wasn't willing to let her beat me entirely. I guess I still got some money out of the deal, albeit not what I deserved.

I Hate Goodbye's

The last couple weeks have been so emotional for so many reasons. On one hand I have the intense desire to commit murder on a daily basis because my boss is literally the puppet of Satan and, on the other hand, I'm so sad to be leaving so many of the kids I've been teaching for the last 12 months.
Many of my students have come up to me with frowns on their faces asking me, "Erika Teacher, why go?" It's breaking my heart. I had two young girls, holding hands, come up to me about two weeks ago and say in unison, "Erika! We are sad!" I ask them why and they respond, "Because you!" and they point angrily and intensely toward the door of the school where I work. "Why you go?" they ask. All I could do was apologize.
Many of my students have been telling me they are so sad and they don't want me to leave.
"We love you Erika Teacher, don't go!" It makes me so sad to leave the majority of them.
Today was my final day at Talking Club and many of the students have been giving me gifts they picked out and wrapped themselves with little cards they took so much time writing, with eraser marks and re-write after re-write.
"I love you, teacher! Thank you for teaching me! We will miss you!" the letters say.
One of my co-teachers, who was also one of my students in my ridiculously-early before the crack of dawn class, organized an entire booklet of cards from all of her students. Each card was written and decorated by each of the students. Then the teacher, Bella, drew little pictures of each student. The last page in the booklet was a letter from her telling me how scared she was initially of taking my morning class because she was self-conscious about her English skills. She went on to say that I made her very comfortable and she appreciated all the help I gave her and she is now much more confident in speaking English.
I burst into tears.
Despite ending the worst job of my life, there are so many things I will miss.

Jeju-rrific!

Wheeeew! It's been forever since I've been able to post any updates on my crazy life in Korea. This whole "no access to a computer" thing is really cramping my style.
This entry is going to be veeeeerrrryyyy long, so hopefully you readers will have a good hour on your hands or you may want to break it up in shifts. :)

Cheers!



My friend, Simon, invited me and our other friend, Ringo, on a hiking trip to Jeju Island. Jeju Island, or Jeju-do, (do, pronounced "doh", is the Korean word for island) is a large island about 62 miles south of the South Korean peninsula. It's about 44 miles long and 25 miles across.
Jeju-do is where many newly-married Koreans spend their honeymoon. It's also known as the Hawaii of Korea.
One can either take a plane to Jeju-do or a ferry. The summer weekends are usually booked solid for transportation to and from Jeju, as are the accomodations. But, lucky for us, we booked just in the nick of time! Woot!
Jeju-do is actually a volcano, which hasn't had a major eruption since 1007, and the highest peak in South Korea calls Jeju home. Halla-san ("san" meaning mountain in Korean) is approximately 6, 400 feet high, or 1,950 meters. I was frothing at the mouth to hike Halla-san and check out Jeju. This was a trip I'd been wanting to take since I made the decision to come to Korea. I was also excited to take the trip with Simon and Ringo, both Kiwis and highly unpredictable and entertaining.
Simon and I live in the northwest region of South Korea, near Seoul, and Ringo lives in the southern region of South Korea, near Busan. So we were going to pick him up along the way.
We had to catch a bus in Seoul at 11:30 p.m. on a Friday and drive down to Mokpo, where we would catch the ferry to Jeju. The bus took about 3 1/2 hours and I couldn't sleep at all. We arrived in Mokpo extremely early in the morning, when the bus driver parked the bus and we all waited for the ferry terminal to open. Still my attempt to sleep was futile.
Eventually the sun came up and we made our way into the ferry terminal and promptly layed down on the benches and attempted some more rest. Eventually Ringo arrived at the terminal and the three of us decided to take a walk around Mokpo.
There really wasn't much to see in Mokpo, so the walk didn't take too long. However, we did have a nice run-in with an ajuma (old Korean woman). She was walking ahead of the three of us, looked around in front and to either side of herself, then looked behind at us, saw us and let a giant and extremely audible fart loose. We all sat there stunned for a split second and then busted up in laughter. Welcome to Mokpo.
We mosied back to the ferry terminal and eventually it was time to board the ferry.
All the Koreans boarding the boat were fully decked out in their hiking gear. The Koreans don't mess around when it comes to purchasing treking attire. They go to special hiking stores and get the special hiking pants and the special hiking shirt and the special hiking sleeves for their forearms so they don't get sunburned, and then they have the special hiking jacket and the special hiking fanny pack, the special hiking hat AAAAANNND the special hiking stick. It's all color-coordinated, of course. It's quite a sight, as I'm sure one can imagine.
I've got my Chaco's, a tank top and quick-dri pants and I'm good to go.
We had a room in the ferry, so almost everyone immediately dropped their packs, laid down and tried to sleep. I did the same, but eventually Simon and Ringo got up and went on an exploratory tour of the ferry. I continued to attempt to sleep and I think I may have gotten about 45 minutes when our Nazi group leader, the Hiking Guru, comes flying into the room, turns on all the lights and announces "it's time for us to eat snacks." Apparently "nap time" is over and "snack time" has commenced.
The Hiking Guru decided to open every single package of food we had in the room with a pocket knife, which was a lot -- about 2 big boxes full -- and spread them all over the floor. At one point, one of the women in the group said, "Umm, Hiking Guru, I think we have enough food right now. You probably don't need to open anymore."
To which he replied, "I just like to cut things."
At this point I decided I'd had enough of snack time and wanted to see what Simon and Ringo were up to.
The boys had been wandering around the ferry and I found them easily enough in the main cafeteria area of the ship. They were headed up to our room when I intercepted them. Ringo handed me a bottle of beer and we ended up sitting down at one of the tables to play a Korean card game and drink until we reached Jeju.
We hit the ground running once we got to the island. We met our bus and our first stop was a lava tube, Man Jang Gul. It's part of the longest lava tube system in the world supposedly. The temperature changed about 10 degrees from the steps entering the cave to the underground tunnel.
There were various layers of lava in the walls of the tube and stalactites hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a large pillar formation that was made when lava poured in from a hole in the roof of the cave. It reminded me of the giant organ in Goonies.
There was a platform made of lava that supposedly looked like a turtle, however I didn't really see the resemblance. I kept hoping to see a bat, but to no avail.
After we left the lava tube we headed to Seongsan il chul bong (Seongsan Sunrise Peak). This is a tuff cone left over from the volcanic activity a long-ass time ago.
We hiked to the top of the peak, which wasn't all that high. I did appreciate the random pseudo convenience stores set up along the trail selling soju. That was a nice touch. Good job, Korea.
It was really foggy. We were told we would be able to see a gigantic crater full of beautiful foliage overlooking the sea once we got to the top. However, I can neither confirm not deny said beautiful landscape exists as we saw nothing but mist. But what a lovely mist it was.
Jeju-do supposedly has wild horses and apparently it's the only place in all of Korea that has horses. Though the only horses I saw were those attached to ropes walking around a ring with little Asian people snapping pictures. Those don't really strike me as "wild" horses, but the Korean tourists sure were enjoying them.
The people of Jeju are awfully artistic and they've carved little men out of the ubiquitous volcanic rock found in abundance all over the island. There's little stone men all over the island called Dolharubang (Stone Grandfather). Supposedly they are for protection for the island. However, I think they look like giant penises. Giant 3-foot-tall penises. So naturally, Ringo, Simon and I performed lewd and lascivious acts upon the poor Grand-stones. Turns out there are only about 40 of the original figures in existance today and we were dry-humping a few of them. Oops.
After we promised to call the Dolharubang, we set off for a waterfall. We first went to an area where we overlooked the waterfall from a temple. Then we walked down to the pool that the waterfall emptied into. By this point I was sweating like a race horse and I desperately wanted to jump into the pool, but unfortunately there were signs outlawing frolicking in the water placed all over the flatform where we were standing and the area surrounding the pool. We were also being watched by Capt. Hiking Guru and he's so excitable there is a distinct possibility he would have had a coronary if I would have broken the rules and jumped in the water. Koreans don't break rules. They don't understand the concept.
From the waterfall, we made our way around the island to the pension we were going to stay in that night. Pensions are basically hostels/backpackers that don't have beds. They come equipped with blankets and pillows and everyone sleeps on the floor. Our pension was overlooking the beach.
When we checked in, Hiking Guru tried to section us off in men's and women's rooms. Koreans have a hard time with the opposite sexes intermingling unless they're married. I immediately cut him off and said, "Nope, I'll sleep in here with my friends," and I plopped my stuff down next to Simon and Ringo's bags. We had three other chicks in our room and the other rooms were filled with both members of the opposite sex. For shame!
It was dinnertime and we made our way down to the front of the pension for a meal of boiled bulgogi and bagels. And, of course, beer and soju. The boys and I had been drinking all day. We started drinking beer on the ferry and then moved on to maekgoli once we got to Jeju.
I remember looking at the supply of beer Hiking Guru brought on the trip and thinking, "There's no way that's going to last through the night."
Sure enough, the supply of alcohol was depleted in no time. When we asked Capt. Hiking Guru where we could buy more, he said "nowhere," everything was closed by 8 p.m. and it was now approaching 10. "It's an island, things close early here," he said.
Ringo looked like he was about to cry. He turned to me and said, "Come with me."
So Ringo and I set off on an alcohol-seeking mission. We soon had a posse, which included Simon and a couple other alcoholics. We stopped at every business-looking building we could find. We came upon a restaurant that was closing, but still had patrons inside. We asked the woman if she had maekju (beer) and soju we could buy from her. We were in luck! We cleaned the woman out and returned to the party victorious!
Capt. Hiking Guru announced that everyone who wanted to hike Halla-san in the morning would need to meet the bus at 3:30 a.m. Simon had already made the decision not to hike Halla-san, but Ringo and I were still toying with the idea of hiking it. That was until we heard what time we would have to wake up in order to hike it. When we heard 3:30 in the morning, we both looked at each other and said, "The hell we are!" and continued drinking.
I've left a crucial element out of the story until now. The boys thought it would be absolutely hilarious to have a competition to see who could show me their testicles the most often and in the most creative ways. Needless to say, I saw way more of Ringo and Simon than I needed to throughout the weekend.
At one point I was sitting on a bench and Ringo came up behind me and said we should take a picture together. As he was positioning the camera in front of us to take the picture, he flipped it around so the LED screen was in front of my face displaying a zoomed-in picture of Simon's balls. I was not impressed.
As the night progressed more and more people continued to head to bed and one unfortunate soul forgot her camera and left it where the rest of us were sitting when she went to bed. Naturally Simon, Ringo and the rest of us still standing gave her a few special photographic mementos to remind her of the trip. It was really more of an anatomy lesson.
I have this affinity for skinny-dipping whenever I'm near the ocean. I don't know what it is. There's just something so pure and natural about the ocean and I have to get down to my most natural state to fully embrace it. So Ringo, Simon, the other guy still standing and I all stripped down and took a dip in the sea and then we finally went to bed.
The next day while everyone else was hiking Halla-san or otherwise exploring the island, Ringo, Simon and I decided to take a trip on a yellow submarine. Simon was obscenely excited about this trip. He was like a little kid, jumping around and squirming with excitement. I wanted to smack him after awhile.
We had to wait for a little while for the submarine tour so the three of us took a look around the bay. We went out to a lighthouse and we were lucky enough to see the Haenyeo.
Haenyeo are women divers who are famous and widely known throughout Jeju-do and Korea. Diving is only a profession for women on the island. They dive all year-round and in the past the divers would wear only loose white cotten clothing and used rope baskets to hold whatever sea-life they caught and gourds as floats.
Nowadays, women wear full-body wetsuits. In the past, the women would make up to 150 dives a year. Now women usually dive only from spring to fall.
Historically when the women dove in the white cotten get-up men were forbidden to look at the women. Divers were anywhere from 30 to well-over 60 years old. The population of the divers is decreasing, but there are still about 5,000 Haenyeo left in Jeju.
I was nervous that the women wouldn't appreciate us taking their picture, but when they passed us in their boat on the way out to find their daily catch, they were all smiles waving and yelling "Annyeong" and "Hello."
Soon enough it was time for the much-anticipated yellow submarine trip. The three of us were the only Waegooks (foreigners) on the trip and we were completely obnoxious. We took a shuttle boat out to the submarine and the three of us were audibly excited about the yellow submarine, clapping, laughing, singing and taking pictures. Ringo and Simon spotted a Japanese girl who then became the object of their affection and they spent the shuttle trip (and the subsequent submarine trip) trying to get her attention and her photograph.
I don't have the strongest stomach and the strong waves were becoming an issue. I'm sure the consumption of maekju and soju the previous evening were not helping matters, but I started feeling quesy -- really quesy.
We got down into the submarine and the waves had become 10 times more powerful. The saliva was increasing. I was sweating like an ape. It wasn't a matter of "if" I was going to puke, but a matter of "when."
Ringo and Simon took the opportunity to snap copious photos of me about ready to vomit. Assholes.
Once we got below the surface, the waves were no more and I felt better. I thought I might actually make it out of the yellow tomb of death without puking. I was able to momentarily enjoy myself.
We saw many beautiful fish and stunning coral, of which the highly eco-conscious and licensed submarine driver kept smacking into irreparably damaging for centuries. They even employed a guy to dive into the water and capture baby rays to stick on the porthole windows for our viewing pleasure. Of course I took pictures!
The waves of nausea came back in full force and in between the boys volleying back and forth between laughing at me, viewing the beautiful fishies and checking out the Japanese chickee I was trying to swallow back the inevitable.
I will be forever grateful to the Jeju Submarine Tour Company for providing little white plastic puke bags. They saved me from even more embarrassment. Luckily all I had in my stomach was pear soda, that's easy to throw up.
This was endless entertainment for the boys who spent the next several minutes snapping photos of me chundering into a plastic bag. At one point I thought Ringo was actually trying to be nice. He was rubbing my back and asking if I was OK. Turns out he was recording me on video. Assholes.
Luckily the vomit stopped and soon so did the submarine tour. Before we surfaced, one of the Korean women on the sub turned to me and said, "You! Number 1!" Both Ringo and Simon threw their arms up in the air and exclaimed, "Yeah! Number One!"
The Korean lady said, "Off! You Number One off!!!"
She was telling me to get off the submarine first. Hahahaha!
She blocked everyone else from getting off the sub first and made sure I got off first and then she followed me onto the shuttle boat and made sure I sat down and then she got me some water. It was very sweet actually.
I attempted to sit inside the shuttle boat, but after about 30 seconds, I realized that was a pretty bad idea. I headed up to the open air of the top deck and tried desperately to focus on a stationary object on the horizon. It worked for a half-second, but then I started puking once again into another bag. Awesome.
Thankfully the shuttle was swift and I bee-lined off the boat for stable ground.
The remainder of the day was pretty uneventful. We headed back to the pension where I promptly took a spot on the floor and tried to forget the fact that I just chundered in front of an entire submarine full of strangers -- and had it videotaped.
We had to wait around for the part of the group that actually hiked Halla-san before we could head home. Eventually they arrived and we all piled onto the wretched smelling bus and headed back to the ferry terminal.
We got to the terminal and it was absolute mayhem. All the ferries were booked and all flights off Jeju were cancelled. There was an impassable and lingering fog that was making air travel impossible. Thankfully our ferry tickets were pre-booked.
There were hundreds of bodies everywhere, all over the ferry terminal lobby. Lines for the ticket window were stretching outside and the ticket window attendants were screaming something incomprehensible into loudspeakers. I, of course, had no idea what they were saying, but assumed it was something along the lines of, "Good luck you sorry bastards. There is no way you're getting home tonight. Have fun explaining this to your bosses. You will likely be tortured with chopsticks and honor-killed during the next morning meeting." Or something along those lines.
Honestly, I wouldn't doubt it if that actually happened to a few people. Korean employers are a little intense and work is just not missed, no matter what the circumstances. One of my friends worked with a guy who's wife had a miscarriage. He was at work that morning and only asked to take the afternoon off to be with his wife. When I say Korean bosses are intense, it's not an exaggeration.
We stood, sat and laid around the ferry terminal for about an hour and a half and then finally it was time to go. People were pushing us to try to get ahead, people were cutting in line and standing all over everyone else to try to get on the ferry. It was like the island was going to blow up and this was their last chance of survival. We had to go through the gate single-file because we were being squished by hordes of people from every side. At one point, Capt. Hiking Guru almost came to blows with a man that jumped into line and cut the rest of us off from getting on the ferry. Thankfully he had a pocketknife... I was glad their were little Korean police officers there, but I'm not actually sure if they could have done much.
Once we finally got on the ferry, there were about three times as many people in our room and the ferry employees told us we were weren't allowed to lay down or extend our legs. Ummm, yup, luckily I can pull the foreigner card and honestly say I had no idea was he was talking about.
There were so many people in our room and all the Koreans were playing card games and drinking shots of soju. We were getting the stink-eye from them because we had the audacity to lay down or (gasp!) extend our legs in front of us!!! It was quite a great trip home. Luckily the more soju the Korean passengers drank the more they lightened up and didn't care so much what we were doing. Soju just brings people together; it seems to be a great equalizer.

Bloody Picasso and Dog Food

I was heading to my friend's apartment to watch a rugby game, but he lives out of town and so I needed to catch a bus. I'd never been there before, but I knew it wasn't too far away.
I hopped on a bus and called my friend to let him know I would be there shortly so he could wait for me at the bus stop.
He told me about the various landmarks that I would see along the way so that I would know where to get off the bus. He also said either himself or one of our other friends would be there waiting for me at the bus stop so I would know for sure when to get off.
I kept seeing various landmarks that could possibly be the ones he was talking about, but I wasn't sure so I kept waiting to see a familiar face. That familiar face was nowhere to be found. I kept searching for it at every stop. It just never came.
My friends kept calling me questioning me about my whereabouts. I had absolutely no idea where I was. Eventually, after about a half hour, my friend called and told me to get off the bus and just wait for the next bus heading back in the direction I had just come.
I did get off the bus at the next stop and landed in a random rice paddie. Absolutely nothing looked familiar and there was a random convenience store open, but no clerk. There was also a couple of small cages full of dogs that were barely being kept alive. They will be someone's meal soon.
I met some junior-high aged boys on the road and asked them if they knew where and when a bus would be coming along. In single-word sentences they informed me that the bus stop was just down the road and there would be a bus coming in about 30 minutes.
I stood at the bus stop, which was no more than a telephone pole, and waited for the bus to come. I was somewhat near some sort of factory that had smoke billowing from the stacks.
Big dumptrucks kept driving by me, too. There was one driver in particular who continuously drove on the road in front of me. He would head one direction and then 10 minutes later he would drive back. Each time he passed me he would slow to gawk at me. On the third drive-by he made a complete stop, whipped out a huge, very expensive looking SLR camera and began taking my picture. I was stunned and immediately turned my back to the freak and did my best to hide behind the telephone pole.
He eventually continued driving and I guffawed at his brazen dickishness.
But it didn't end there. He kept driving back and forth past me, every 15 minutes or so and each time he pulled out his camera and tried to take pictures of me. WTF? I was convinced he was going to grab me, throw me in his dump truck, chop me up into little pieces, take pictures of the pieces and then feed me to the poor malnourished dogs that were stuck in the cages that were way too small for them.
He drove by another time, stopped in front of me again and motioned for me to get in his truck. Are you friggin' kiddin' me, smalls? On what planet do you think I would actually willingly get into your vehicle with you and ALLOW you to murder me and take pictures while doing it? Psycho.
By this point it's raining. I called my friend, Reese, and explained the situation to her and said I just wanted her to know what happened to me in case nobody ever heard from me again. She said, "OH MY GOD!! Where are you??! I'll come get you!!!"
I ever so calmly exclaimed, "I don't even know where I am!!! Somewhere between rice paddies and my eternal grave!!! He's going to feed me to the poor dogs!!!"
That's when my cell phone battery began to beep as, of course, my battery was now dying. I can't actually make this shit up. By this point it had been about a half-hour and no bus was in sight.
Butcher-boy kept driving by and I was absolutely convinced I was going to become some sort of bloody montage of digital pictures for this freak. I considered walking to one of the little farm houses to see if I could borrow someone's phone to call somebody who could speak Korean to call me a cab. I thought better of it when I realized the only living quarters I could find was one that housed emaciated dogs in teeny-tiny cages.
I would wait for the bus.
I began standing behind an ancient decrepit pop machine that was near the telephone pole to cover myself enough from the prying eyes of Butcher-boy. Eventually, after about 20 more minutes, a bus came charging up the road and I nearly shrieked in glee and through my hands up in victory. I was not going to be dog food today! I've never been so happy to see a bus in my life.
After going all the way back into Dangjin, I called my friend who's house I was supposed to be at an hour prior and told him, screw it I'm getting a cab. Turns out, his apartment was literally 5 minutes from the center of Dangjin. I practically could have walked there.

Thanks Ya'll

I've been so lucky in my life to have met such amazing people and to have made such great friends. It's so humbling to have such phenomenal friends and family on my side.
The last few years have been so tumultuous and mercurial. I've made so many path-altering decisions. My friends have stuck with me and supported me and the friends I've made along the way have surpassed any expectation I ever could have made.
I can say without hesitation that I, by far, have the most amazing people in my life and I'm so thankful.
I can also say I've put myself in various positions and situations in the past few years which have forced me to rely heavily on others, which isn't something I was used to. I'm not proud of certain things, but it's comforting to know I have many people I can call on when I know I need help.
Even now in South Korea, I've made friends that are willing to give so much to me and it's overwhelming. I've known these people for 9 months and they're willing to open so much of themselves to me. I'm so lucky.

Three Months and Counting....

Has it been mentioned that I hate my boss? I may have let that slip once or twice. But I do. I really, really do.
I had been working at a kindergarten four days a week from 10 a.m. to noon for most of the last 9 months I've been in Korea. In the beginning, it was for 80 minutes a day twice a week. But apparently She Devil decided she wasn't making enough money off me so she upped my schedule. Then she rearranged my regular schedule from 2:30-9:30 p.m. so that I would have one or two 45-minute breaks throughout the day, so that I would never get overtime.
I later found out that Agnes and the owners of the kindergarten were friends. I wasn't aware that it was possible for Agnes to have friends, but when making money is involved I guess anything is possible.
The new schedule became such a giant pain in the ass. I never had a chance to have a life outside of school. I never had enough time to get anything done. I have to walk everywhere I go and it's a mission just to go to the bank or the grocery store.
I got to the point where I told She Devil I didn't want to do the kindergarten classes anymore. Two hours with 3-5-year olds is a REALLY long time. And then I have to deal with the rest of my students for 7 hours a day.
Agnes had a complete conniption fit and said I had to do it. Then I reminded here that my contract wasn't with the kindergarten, which is in a seperate location, but with Talking Club. I also called the Talking Club headquarters and had them talk to her, which further pissed her off.
She eventually relented, but said to give the kindergarten a 1-month notice. Fine. Whatever.
About two weeks after this all transpired, She Devil dropped a bomb on me telling me that because I wasn't going to be doing the kindergarten anymore I would be starting an adult English class Monday-Thursday from 6:30-7:30 a.m.
I told her, the hell I was. I told her it was unreasonable to ask (tell) me to do that. She said I had no choice and under my contract I was obligated to work 120 hours a month and that time would be part of my contract hours.
I told her I would call Talking Club headquarters again and ask them about it. She said, "Ok, go ahead."
I called the headquarters, explained the situation and the guy (who sounded like an Aussie) told me that unfortunately I was contractually obligated to do the class. He told me the way my contract was worded it didn't stipulate when the 120 hours had to be done.
He said, "I'm really sorry. I know you don't want to hear that."
I asked him what I could do. He told me, "Off the record, you should contact your recruiter or hand in your resignation. If headquarters got involved, it would make her more angry and she'd make your situation worse."
Super.
I contacted my recruiter and told him everything that had happened throughout the year. I hadn't contacted him throughout the year because I was afraid of what would happen to me. I didn't tell him everything because I wanted him to do something about it, I finally told him because I wanted him to be aware in case she tried to do something to me. I've heard stories about English teachers being fired in their 11th month for bogus reasons. I also don't want the next person to have to go through the same crap I did.
My recruiter said he was really sorry and he agreed with me that what she was asking was unreasonable. He told me he wouldn't send another teacher to this school ever again and he asked me what I wanted him to do. I told him I just wanted to finish my contract and get the hell away from her.
She came up to me the other day and said, "The morning class must be really difficult."
I said, "Yeah, it really sucks but there's nothing I can do about it."
She then said, "Uhh, yeah. I'm sorry about that." And then she just walked away.
I have three months left. I just have to get through the next three months. I've been looking for the next contract and I want to get as far away from here as possible. I've been looking for jobs in Busan or Jinju, which are both cities on the south region of South Korea. Basically I want to get as far away from this woman as humanly possible and since I can't afford to go home, that means I head to the southern coast.
I just really hope the next three months fly by.

Red, White & Blue

This was the first 4th of July I haven't had to work since I was in high school and, go figure, I'm in a different country. But fun was had by all!
My friends and I got together to have an Independence barbecue on the rooftop of one of our apartments. Since my friends are from all parts of the world, we decided to not celebrate any one country. We had Koreans, Canadians, Irish, Kiwis, Americans and South Africans at the barbecue. It turned into an American and Canadian party, however.
I showed up with watermelon and Budweiser. I don't even drink Budweiser in America, I think it's crap beer, but I had to drink it for the party! Somebody else brought an American flag and one of the Canadian chicks brought graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows for s'mores. Yeehaw!!!
At one point, three of us Americans broke out with the national anthem. I couldn't remember I actually remembered the words. It's been so long since I've actually sang that song. Then the Canadian chicks followed suit and had to sing their national anthem, too.
We also shot off fireworks and had sparklers. Yay for lighting shit on fire!!!!!
The police eventually showed up because, apparently, we were being too loud. Keep in mind this was before 10 p.m. on a Saturday. Luckily we had Korean friends at the party and they managed to get rid of the cops. If this had been a Korean party, there would have been no issue. But god forbid the Meegooks and Waegooks celebrate their independence. Whatevs. We had a great time regardless.
I didn't get to go camping, float the river or watch a parade, but I still had a great Independence Day celebration with good friends, beer, barbecue and fireworks. Sounds like a pretty successful Independence Day to me.
Happy Birthday, America!!!!

My Cup Runneth Over

I was at a bar recently, participating in the consumption of adult breverages with my friend, Simon. This bar is an establishment where the only employees are cute little Korean chickees. It's called a Hostess bar because there are little rooms where groups of people (i.e. dirty old Korean men) can go into a curtained-off room and enjoy the company of a beautiful mini-skirt wearing Korean woman who will listen intently to whatever they say, giggle at the correct times and cover their mouths ever-so-daintily.
Simon and I opted to fore-go the curtained room and sat at the bar. I was wearing a strapless shirt (which was my first mistake) when one of the barmaids came over to where Simon and I were sitting and asked me if I was "bigger than B-cup."
I sat there for a split-second slightly stunned at the question.
Simon busted up in loud, raucous laughter at the question.
Wide-eyed, I stammered a "yes" and then she asked me what size my boobs were.
Jigga-wha?!
I told her what size I was and she said, with a very serious look on her face, "Oh, very nice."
I uttered a thank you and joined Simon in the raucous laughter. I looked up at the other patrons of the bar (who were all dirty, old Korean men). They all were looking at me googly-eyed with dopey smiles on their faces. I immediately grabbed my sweater and covered up the goods.
Eeew.

Hey Son, Whatcha Packin'?

I have a male student in my adult Tuesday/Thursday classes that wears the tightest pants I've ever seen. What is it about Korean man/boys wearing uber-tight clothes? I think he literally has to pour himself into his pants. Leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Unfortunately.
About every 20 minutes he will stand up from his chair and lean over the table where we all sit. The first time he did this I just looked at him and asked him if he was ok. He looked back at me, smiled sheepishly and said, "legs asleep."
His legs and feet actually fall asleep when he sits down because his ridiculous pants are too tight.
Korean men spend SO MUCH TIME on their appearance. They wear super tight pants and shiny suits. The suits are what get me. I think they could double as aluminum foil with all the shinyness in them and they may possibly be radioactive. And the color coordination of their attire leaves me in awe.
I wonder how much time it takes them to get ready in the morning? Also, is there some sort of medical problem that may result from wearing their pants too tight? I have heard the population has been decreasing in Korea lately. Perhaps the researchers should look into the paint-on pants?

Dangjin's 8th Annual Juldarigi (Tug of War) Festival

I was invited by some of my adult students to attend the Tug of War Festival (Juldarigi) in Dangjin. Many other foreign English teachers were also attending the festival and my friend, Jack, asked a bunch of us to go as well.
I'd made plans to meet with my students on Saturday morning so we could all go to the festival together. We met up outside Talking Club and I brought my friends Bennie and Ducky, too. It was gray and rainy, which completely bummed me out.
When we got to the festival, only about a 10-minute drive, I felt like I was in the opening parade of a circus act. Everyone stopped to stare at us and point and chatter and take our picture. One high school-aged girl asked me in best-rehearsed English if she could get a picture taken with me. (Note to self: Dye your blond hair brown STAT!)
She wanted me to bow my arm over my head in a 1/2 heart while she did the same. Koreans are big on making hearts with their arms for some reason.
We walked through the main gate of the festival, which took a ridiculous amount of time because everyone was stopping us and staring at us.
My Korean students wanted us to stop and try everything. So we attempted to do this jumping see-saw apparatus and us whities completely sucked at it, but everybody had fun watching us try and we had fun looking like complete morons in the attempt.
Next we walked through the artisan area and there was a potter throwing a pot. One of my students turned to me and asked, "You know Demmmi and Patrick Swayze? Movie Ghost? Sexy!" Ummm, yeah. I'm well aware of the movie and the "Sexy time."
There was also tons of food stalls and scarves and clay plates.
We came to a huge wooden table with a gooey paste spread on the surface of the table. There was a man pounding the paste with a huge wooden mallet. The paste turned out to be rice paste (you don't say? something made of rice....?) A group of old men pointed at me and handed me the mallet, which was a helluva lot heavier than it looked.
I swung it over my head as best as I could and nearly missed the table altogether. I tried again and hit the paste right in the center, sending it oozing to the sides of the table. All the old guys cheered and shouted, "So strong!" Gaaawd, just what a nearly 6-foot tall girl wants to hear. I was slightly embarrassed and tried to pass the mallet off, but the old guys said, "One more, one more." So I obliged and managed to whack the paste again before handing the mallet off to the next Waygook.
One of my adult students turned to me and said, "Rice paste, can eat, but taste is terrible," then she scrunched up her face in a disgusted look to hammer the point home that the rice paste tastes like crap.
We walked a little further and came to an archery exhibit where an old man was giving us pointers (in Korean) on how to shoot the arrow correctly. He kept grabbing our hand that was holding the bow and twisting it back in an unnatural position and repeating the same words over and over in Korean. I have no idea what he was on about.
We finally made it into the area where the rope was being kept until the start of the actual Tug of War began. The rope was massive and made in two seperate pieces. Each piece weighed 4 tons and had to be dragged for about 3 or 4 miles by hundreds of people. There were two teams; the orange team and the green team, which most of my friends and I were on.
One-half of the rope was said to signify the female and the other was said to signify the male. When the two pieces got together it was supposed to signify sex. It's so strange because there are countless times since I've arrived in Korea where I've heard about everyday products and produce being good for stamina, vitality and virility. Everything is based around sex, yet sex is such a taboo subject in Korea and it's almost never discussed in the open or in conversation. Korea is such a place of contradictions.
Anyway, so I eventually meet up with my other friends at the festival and everyone is well on their way to becoming three sheets to the wind. It's about 11 in the morning. It's going to be a messy day.
I continue walking through the festival with my adult students and we stop to have lunch. We have a lunch of Korean pancakes, which are made from eggs, various vegetables and pieces of seafood, like octopus. They are so freaking good. We also have kimchi (of course, it's served at every meal, even breakfast), toppoki (a really hot dish made from rice paste and red pepper paste) and we start drinking makeoli. Makeoli is a wine made from rice. It's delicious.
One of the adult students, Teresa, had woken up at 4 a.m. to make kimbap. Kimbap is awesome and it's actually part of my daily diet. It's basically like a sushi roll, but instead of raw fish it has pieces of ham, egg and vegetables. So yummy!
We all walked back to Teresa's car to get the kimbap, but by then it had started to rain. So we all sat in the car and ate kimbap.
All the Korean ladies had something to do that day, so after we ate the kimbap, we all went our seperate ways. Teresa gave me a big plastic container full of pieces of kimbap for my friends and me. She's so incredibly amazing.
I walked back to the Tug of War rope where all my friends were waiting for the ceremony to start. Half the rope had already been dragged up to the site where the Tug of War would actually take place. I'm not sure which part was male, the orange team or the green team, and which part was female, but I was on the green team.
It was time to start what turned out to be a very long, very slow and drunken process of pulling our half of the rope to the Tug of War site. Everyone was given cotton gloves to protect their hands and there were several ropes leading off the main rope to pull from. I can not emphasize enough how much this thing weighed and literally hundreds of people were needed to pull it. Couple that with the fact that both my friends Ducky and Kippy decided to hop on the rope and ride it like it was a bull. They were yelled at by ajumas, though. Obviously it was mostly Korean people pulling the rope, but we were all getting into it. There were South Africans, Irish, Americans, Brits, Canadians, Kiwis, Aussies, everyone was working together to drag this 4-ton rope through town. Rather metaphorical and touching, I'd say.
Everyone kept yelling, "Yong Cha!" which means, "Cheer Up!" I'm not really sure why we were chanting "Cheer Up!" but I'm sure there was some important cultural significance to it.
We'd all drag the rope for about 10 minutes and then get a 3 or 4-minute break. There was a man dressed up in traditional garb standing on the front of the rope who was in charge of when we would start and stop. He had a flag that he would wave forward with each heave and shout of "Yong Cha!"
At each break, there would be men that came by with a stack of paper cups and a copper kettle of makeoli. they would give us makeoli and miniscule dried fish (for virality, I presume) while we rested. They were especially concerned about us Westerners; following us around making sure our cups of makeoli were always full.
I understand why the effort took so long, obviously the rope weighed 4 tons, but also the breaks were frequent and everyone was becoming increasingly hammered. The "Yong Cha!" chant turned into "One Shot!" as the day wore on. Eventually there were tables at the rest stops where high school kids were handing out the makeoli.
There were photographers and video cameras everywhere. News crews were interviewing as many Westerners as they could. I successfully avoided being interviewed. I knew I wanted no part of drunkenly professing my love for Korean Tug of War festivals and makeoli broadcast on television. Several of my friends were interviewed and put on television, however. (And their students who saw the broadcasts have made sure they would never forget it.)
We eventually ran into the orange team crew coming down from having successfully dragged their half of the rope to the Tug of War site. I asked one guy that stopped to talk to us if we were almost there. He looked at us, looked at the road ahead and flatly said, "Uhh, no."
Shit. Where exactly were we going?!?
There was a traditional drum band that was following us behind the rope. The band members were playing music and dancing for the entire time. One old guy carrying a copper makeoli kettle grabbed me and my friend and took us back to the drum band. So he and I did the only thing we could; we started dancing along with the drummers and dancers. More picture taking ensued of the nearly 6-foot tall blond chick and the gigantic 6'2" black dude dancing with the Korean drum band.
We evenually parted ways with the band and went back to pulling the rope and we got to the bottom of a hill. I remember asking someone, "Do we have to pull the rope up that hill?!"
"Uh, yep," was their response.
Another hour of pulling a 4-ton hand-woven rope up a bloody hill. Thank God the makeoli was still freely flowin', but by this point someone had given us a huge jug of makeoli to carry with us.
One of the Korean spectators had given me a Juldarigi flag to wave, so I took a break from pulling and waved the flag around for awhile.
Two of my girlfriends, Bennie and Ani, had disappeared by this point and when they returned I had found out that they desperately had to use a restroom, couldn't find one, so they knocked on a poor, unsuspecting Korean's apartment door and asked in their best broken Korean if they could use the person's toilet. They ended up staying at this person's apartment for an hour, drinking coffee with the tenant and attempting to communicate with the man who spoke no English and they only spoke broken bits of Korean.
We finally made it to the top of the hill and the other half of the rope was waiting ever-so-patiently for the copulation to commence. I raced to the bathroom; too much makeoli! When I got to the bathroom, I noticed I had white lips. The makeoli had left a stain of white on my lips! Classy.
I went back outside and I noticed another drum and dance troupe so, naturally, I joined them. I was waving my freak flag high with my arms up in the air when one of my girlfriends found me and decided to join me in the dancing circle.
We eventually made it out of the circle and she told me that before she saw me, she and her boyfriend had been looking for us and her boyfriend saw me dancing solo in the drum circle and told her, "Well... there's Erika." And she said, "Oooh! That looks like fun!" And she joined me. Gotta love the serendipitous moments of happenstance.
She and I eventually left the dancing drum circle for yet another stop in the bathroom. This time there was a line and as soon as the ajumas (old crotchity Korean women) saw my friend and me they smiled and ushered us into bathroom stalls. We hardly had to wait. Ajumas often times go out of their way to be mean to Westerners but today, they were being exceedingly nice?! What's that about?! I assumed it was because we were participating in a traditional festival? Or maybe they had had just as much makeoli as we had? I wasn't sure, but I definitely wasn't going to argue.
My friend and I got accosted by an older Korean couple who spoke English. They were asking all about us and telling us about their lives. The woman worked at an English-speaking cultural center and wanted to know as much about us as she could. Then they insisted on taking a buttload of photos with us and then a lady from the drum band stopped by and wanted a picture of us as well. And the man dragged us over to a group of men surrounding a huge pot of makeoli. They insisted we drink makeoli with them. Who were we to refuse?!
By this point, huge gongs were being sounded by huge mallets operated by tiny Korean man/boys and fireworks had started to explode. I think it was safe to say the two pieces of rope were getting it on.
It was finally time for the actual Tug of War to start. I grabbed a piece of rope and tugged with all my might!! Jack was beckoning for us to go. Apparently the head honcho of the school districts in Chungnam province was going to take everybody out to dinner.
After all that dragging of a 4-ton rope (have I mentioned that?) for 4 miles I had to leave during the actual Tug of War? What the hell? The green team looked like it was going to take it, so I decided a free meal was going to win out, especially after all the makeoli I had consumed that day. I left and went to dinner. I still don't actually know which team won, but I'm SURE the green team won. We had all the heart. And I actually got a blister and a sore back from the cultural extravaganza. That's gotta be worth something!

Put the Pizza Down and Nobody Gets Hurt

I've gained just under 10 pounds (or about 4 kilos for the non-Americans reading this) since coming to Korea, which obviously sucks. My eating habits are not so great. I eat a lot of rice, but I've been told rice isn't metabolized in a Western-raised body the way it is in an Eastern-raised body. I don't know if that's true or not, but I'm sticking with that story... Makes me feel a little bit better. Although that beer, soju and pizza probably aren't helping either.
In one of my classes this week my students were reviewing a few vocabulary words and writing sentences with the words. One of the words was "previously". One of my students appeared to be thinking quite hard on her assignment. When she handed me her paper the sentence for "previously" was: "Erika was previously thin."
Those silly Korean kids have such a limited vocabulary, they don't know what they're talking about.
I couldn't help but laugh and agree with her.
When I came to Korea I was told that people who start off thin in Korea end up gaining lots of weight and those that come to Korea heavy end up getting really thin. I don't think I was thin when I came here, but I was definitely thinner.
I just hope I get my act together and lose some weight, especially if I'm not able to fit into my clothes. They don't make clothes for fat girls in Korea.
I've also become much more self-conscious than I already was. When you're constantly being stared at it tends to make you think the worst. I spend much more time picking out what to wear for the day than I ever have before. I have to make sure certain body parts are covered sufficiently and I'm not showing too much flesh.
It's weird though because Korean girls and women wear the shortest and tightest skirts I've ever seen with their asses pretty much hanging out, but if I foreign woman shows her shoulders or the teeniest bit of cleavage than she's a dirty slut who deserves to be gawked at and cussed out. I don't quite understand that one.
It's funny because never in a million years have I been or would I be self-conscious and hyper-aware of my chest. But here, I'm doing everything I can to cover the girls up. And now that I've gained weight, the boobs have taken on a life of their own.
I really miss cultures where nobody gave a shit what anybody wore or how you wore it. It's so strange to be constantly aware of how I look or how what I'm wearing may be perceived by the people around me. It's just another thing I'm working on getting used to. I should be glad I'm not working in the Middle East, I guess. But a burqa would come in really handy for swimsuit season....

Incompetence Abounds

My office key was taken away awhile ago and I had discussed with Agnes the possibility of having the key returned to me. She said she couldn't discuss it at that exact moment and said we would discuss it later. I knew she would think I would forget about it, so I purposely waited about a week before I asked her about it again.
I had a couple minutes before my adult class on Thursday so I thought I would bring up the "key issue." I asked Agnes if she had time to discuss giving me the office key back. She asked me why I thought I needed the key. I told her it was incredibly inconvenient to try to get all my prep work done for all my classes and use the internet to email family and friends.
I told her I didn't understand why the key was taken away in the first place. I asked her if I had used the key or the office inappropriately and she answered, "No." I said, "Well, than why was it taken away?" She answered that no other teacher had a key and she didn't think it was appropriate for me to have it. She also said she didn't feel comfortable with me being in the office without her supervision. I asked her why she felt comfortable with me being "unsupervised" for 5 1/2 months and then all the sudden she didn't feel comfortable?
She didn't have a rebuttal, so she just looked at me, smiled and said, "Sorry."
I said, "So you're not going to give me the key back." She smiled and said, "Sorry," again.
I lost it.
I told her, "You are incredibly unprofessional and immature and so incompetent, but I'm getting used to that! You are by far the WORST working experience I've ever had!"
She said, "It is?"
I answered, "YES!!!!! And I just hope the next person that comes here has a better time than I have, but I doubt it!!!!!" and I stormed off to teach my evening adult class.
As I was walking away, I was absolutely furious and then I felt like a jackass because I was thinking, "Wow, that was an incredibly immature reaction, but whatever, I don't even care!!!" (in typical immature fashion)
The adult class is a 90-minute class, so halfway through the class, we have a break time. I went outside to make a phonecall and when I came back in the building, Agnes asked if she could talk to me after class. I mumbled an answer of "yeah, sure."
After class, all the students left and Agnes came into the classroom and sat down with a notebook in front of her. Apparently she spent the previous 90 minutes compiling a laundry list of all the things I had allegedly done wrong.
She started by saying that she didn't know how many jobs I had had in the past, but she doubted this was my worst. I told her I had been working non-stop since I was 15 years old, so I had had many, many jobs in my life and this one was by far the worst. She asked me why. So I gave her the reasons I could come up with off the top of my head.
I told her she never orders the books I need for class on time, so I'm running around scrambling trying to figure out what to do with my students. I said that wasn't fair to the students or me and it was incredibly disorganized and unprofessional. And after 6 months of me being here, she should have her crap together more by now. Not to mention, she has been running this school for the last three years, so she should really know to order books in a certain timeframe.
She admitted that, yes, she was very disorganized and she would try to order the books on time. She asked, "Would that make you happier if I ordered the books on time?"
I answered, "It's a start."
I then said that she never gave me my new schedule until a couple minutes before classes were supposed to start. I get a new schedule every month and I never actually get the schedule until the day the classes start. I told her this makes it very difficult to prepare for the classes. I told her that I had asked her for a new schedule last week for the classes that started this Wednesday. She didn't have the schedule ready. So I asked her again on Monday and she said, "Oh yeah, I'll get it to you." I asked her again for the schedule on Tuesday and she said, "Oh yeah, I forgot. I'll get it to you right away." I finally got the schedule Wednesday when I came to school to start class. I told her it was ridiculous that I wouldn't get my schedule for the month until the day classes started.
She said, "Ok, if I get the schedule to you earlier, would that make you happier?"
I answered, "Once again, it's a start."
The next gripe on my list was the pay that I always had to fight her for. I told her I give her a copy of my hours every month for a reason. I do it so she has a copy of the hours I've worked and so I have a copy as well. I told her every month there is an issue because she didn't want to pay me for work I've done. I used several national holidays as an example. I told her she would always fight with me about paying me for national holidays and I said that was ridiculous. She didn't want to pay me for Christmas for God's sake because I "didn't work that day."
I told her the fact that I've had to call the Talking Club corporate headquarters to find out what I should and should not get paid for is kind of ludicrous. She said she didn't realize she had to pay me for those days.
I told her I felt like she was trying to cheat me. She got all huffy and said, "I'm not trying to cheat you!" I told her, "I sure hope not."
She then asked, "Ok, anything else?"
I told her that was all I could think of at the moment, but if anything else came up I'd be sure to let her know.
Then she started on a list of things I had apparently done wrong. She said about a month ago, one of the students came up to her and asked what crazy meant. She told me apparently I had called this kid crazy and he wanted to know what it meant. She said I shouldn't be calling kids names. I said I didn't maliciously call any of the children names(except behind their back, of course). I told her it was probably a joke in the class, because my students always say to me, "Tee-chaa, you so crazy!" and I answer back, "No, you so crazy!" It's a joke, but apparently one student was a little sensitive.
I said, "Ok, I'll try to be more sensitive and I won't call anymore kids crazy."
Then I asked her why she waited a month to tell me about this. She answered that she forgot about it. Clearly it was really important if she forgot about it.
Her second gripe was that I had let some classes out a couple minutes early and their parents were paying good money for those classes and I shouldn't let them out early. Ok, I will no longer let any of the students out a couple minutes early. No problem.
Her last problem with me was that I had been teaching the Middle School English lesson from the book. She said that all I did with them was teach them from their book that was provided to me.
I said, "So you don't want me to teach them from the book?"
She answered, "Well, yes, I want you to teach them from the book, but I don't want you to use the CD that comes with the book."
The book is primarily based on listening and the CD is the main component of the book.
I said, "Ummm, ok, so you want me to use the book, but not use the book?"
She answered, "Yes."
"Ok," I said. "I will find a way to use the book, but not use the book. Anything else?"
"No," she answered. "That's all I can think of."
She then went on to tell me that she was sure her school was definitely not the worst place to work. She said she knew of several other hogwans near Talking Club that were far worse than hers.
Uh huh. I find that hard to believe, but I'll placate you if it means I can get out of this room right now.
She said she hoped the next 6 months would be better.
I said, "Yeah, me too!"
The next day when I came in to the school, all the teachers, the school secretary and Agnes were standing around speaking rapid-fire Korean. As soon as I walked in, they all got really quiet and looked at me. Geee, what were you guys talking about? Then Agnes came over to me, pointed to a box of books that had just arrived in the mail and said those were the books I needed to teach my classes that started two days ago.
I went through the books and realized she hadn't ordered enough. She came over, counted the books and realized her mistake. I didn't even react. I knew she would not order enough. She breathed a heavy sigh and said she would order more books right away and I told her I'd make the kids share until the new ones came.
This woman is so incompetent.
Do they screen for mental illness before they allow a person to open a hogwan?

Poor Fido!

I went to the outdoor market yesterday in Dangjin. There are tons of vendors there selling everything from vegetables, to blankets, to live octopus, to pottery, to toothbrushes. It's huge and you can buy pretty much anything there.
The smells that waft from that area of town are perplexing to the senses. There's fresh fruit and beetles being boiled in a large pot by a tiny ajuma (old Korean lady). There's live turtles swimming around and gasping fish flopping their Swan Song.
I came along an interesting piece of meat that I couldn't identify. I looked at one of my friends quizzically.
"Ummmm, what is that?"
He answered, "Dog." He answered very flatly, without making eye-contact and just kept walking. I stood there with my mouth agape.
"Um, what?!"
I just stood there.
I'm trying to look at it all anthropological-like. Such as, don't judge, this is a different culture, this is how they do things. But, no, I couldn't do it. I was staring at a freaking dogs flesh.
I tried to continue walking and forget about it, but we came along a freezer a couple stalls down. This was the only freezer-like or refrigerator-like object I saw all day. Plucked, headless chickens had been baking in the sun all day with no fear of salmonella in sight. I'll stick to buying vegetables and fruit here, me thinks.
The freezer was chock-full of skinned dog meat. The heads were still attached. The teeth were still intact in the poor things snout. I was completely mortified. I looked straight ahead and walked as fast as I could away from the freezer. Just a few steps ahead were two steel cages full of fluffy, sweet puppies. Fully breathing, licking and heart-beating, adorable puppies. I instantly fell in love with all of them, wanted to buy them and take them home and make absolutely certain that they wouldn't be a part of anyone's meal. I couldn't help but wonder if the puppies were being sold as pets or if they were being sold to eventually be eaten as food. I'm hoping for the former and I may be delusional, but I'm just going to hang on to that hope.

Things I Love About Korea

I've compiled a list of just a few things I love about living in South Korea.

- First of all, ondol heating. It's awesome! The heat comes through the flooring and it's warm and toasty on bare feet. It also dries your clothes fairly quickly, as clothes dryers in Korea are non-existent.
- Ridiculously easy and cheap transportation.
- Bibimbab: a rice dish with beef, egg and vegetables all mixed together. It's freaking awesome and someone should write a song about it.
- Galbi: marinated grilled short ribs; this stuff is amazing. I don't know what they marinate it in, but it's damn tasty and I would consider staying in Korea for the rest of my days solely to eat galbi!
- Samgyeopsal: essentially this is grilled bacon and then mixed with kimchi on a lettuce leaf with some rice. De-to-the-vine!
- Gimbap: rice, pork and vegetable seaweed roll. I eat this stuff all the time, it really has become a part of my daily diet.
- Gyul: tiny mandarin oranges. I eat about five a day. They completely rock and my students give them to me frequently, which makes me extremely happy.
- The innocence of the Korean people, especially the Korean children.
- Feeling completely and totally safe walking down the street (especially after living in Vegas).
- How excited kids get when they see you, especially outside of the classroom.
- Street food vendors (they are beautiful, beautiful people, especially after a long night at a Hof).
- The little warm pastry ball things sold by the street vendors. I don't know what they're called, but they have some sort of custard filling. I'm not sure exactly what's in them, but they completely rock and smell amazing!!!!
- Cheap prescription drugs.

This is a short list that I will be adding to as the remaining 6 months of my contract progresses. There are more things that I love here, but I'll get to the rest later.

Stay off the Sidewalks if You Wanna Live

Korean people are horrible drivers (and yes, I'm aware that is a blanket general statement). Traffic signs and lights are merely suggestions and rarely followed.
Korea has one of the highest vehicular accident rates in the world. I'm convinced they're the worst drivers on the planet, but I've heard drivers in Southeast Asia and Central and South America are worse.
Traffic lights are frequently run and there are thousands of little moped drivers to whom no rules apply. Most food delivery drivers are on little mopeds and they cut people off, drive on sidewalks and make up their own rules. Oh, and they stare at me while they're zooming by at top moped speed. There's even a flower guy, whose entire bike is covered in flowers. I actually like him, though.
Also, inconsistent brake and accelerator pedal pushing is highly encouraged. Whenever I'm in a vehicle I feel like I'm in constant whiplash mode. And, when I'm on a bus, I'm constantly feeling like I'm going to vomit because the bus driver's foot is constantly springing forward and zooming back.
Drivers also like to leave the windshield wipers on when it's not raining, causing the wiper blades to screeeeeeeeeeeech back and forth across the windshield. I wonder how many times a year they have to replace those suckers?
This leaves me to my final point: honking the horn. I'm convinced drivers' hands are permanently attached to the car horn. They honk at everything, most often when it's not necessary.
Agnes' father drives me to one of my weekly classes. Thank god he doesn't speak English. He drives like a bat out of hell, swerves into on-coming traffic, zooms through lights and honks at air. I really do put my life into my own hands when I get in the car with him. But, at least it's not Agnes who's driving.

Adventures with the Devil, Act 416

I swear it's an absolute miracle I haven't committed murder yet.
This woman is certifiably insane. I'm going to have to find a way to survive six more months with her.
A couple days ago, I turned in my hours to Agnes, which I do at the beginning of every month. I get paid on the 10th of every month.
I went over my contract hours for the month, so I'm supposed to get paid overtime. Agnes had a couple questions about the hours I had written down, which I knew she would because I had added the hours from a holiday and the time it took me to go to and from my off-campus teaching job; all reasonable additions to a normal brain functioning person.
March 1st is Lunar New Year and a national holiday in Korea. I'm supposed to get paid for national holidays. So, of course, Agnes pitched a fit about that, saying I didn't work that day. I told her according to Talking Club corporate headquarters, I get paid for national holidays. Dropping the "Talking Club Corporate Headquarters" bomb seems to scare her so she shut right up.
Then she wanted to fight me on the time I wrote down to grade tests. I had been given a huge stack of tests to grade as I was leaving school one day, so I counted the time it took me to grade those tests at home. She told me I shouldn't have taken them home. I fought her on that, saying maybe the teachers shouldn't wait until the end of the day to give me a huge stack of papers to grade. They could easily give them to me throughout the day.
Then she got all fired up (and so did I) about writing down the time it takes me to walk to and from my kindergarten classes, which aren't at Talking Club. She got crazy pissed about that and I told her if she wanted to cheat me out of the money I had earned, I would just stop going to the kindergarten. She said I couldn't do that because the kindergarten hours were part of my contract hours. I said no they weren't. My contract was with Talking Club, not Ischule (the kindergarten). She said, "Ok, we'll just bus all the children to Talking Club and you could do the classes here." I said, "Great, that would be fine."
I knew full well that would never happen and would be a logistical nightmare and the kindergarten directors would never agree to it. Bussing 40 4-to-6-year-olds to Talking Club four days a week would never happen and I knew that. Agnes then said, "Ok, fine, but I want your key back." She had given me an office key when I first started so I could get into the building and do prep work and use the computer.
I hadn't been using the key or office inappropriately and she knew that, she was just mad at me. I chuckled a little and said, "No problem."
Now I intend to call her incessantly for her to open the office for me. I know she sleeps in really late, so I'll just keep calling her early in the morning. It's going to be fun! I've got to entertain myself somehow for the next six months with her!!!

Take a Picture, It Will Last Longer

I'm so freaking sick of being stared at. Everywhere I go, I get stared at, pointed at and talked about. I understand being curious, but there comes a point where it just becomes rude!
People have no shame about it either. They stop and stare at me and look me up and down and then start talking and pointing at me. Then, if I pass them, they will turn around and watch me walk away. In the beginning, it was funny, now it's infuriating.
I walk to a kindergarten where I work four days a week and every day there's a woman that walks the same road, but in the opposite direction. We pass each other every day.
Every day she stares at me and looks me up and down and kind of has this "Tsk, Tsk" look on her face. It's not like I'm dressed inappropriately. She always sees me in either jeans or dress pants and my winter coat.
At first, I smiled at her when we crossed paths, but her reaction has never changed. She always does the same thing: stare at me and look me up and down.
The other day I lost it. I could see her coming and she was staring at me, so I stared back. Then she started looking me up and down with a look of complete disgust on her face.
I started yelling, "STOP STARING AT ME!!!!!! JESUS!"
She quickly scuttled off while looking back at me and shaking her head.
It's so frustrating!
A friend of mine wants to have a T-shirt made that says in Korean writing, "Stop staring at me, it's rude." I think I will have one made, too.
I asked some of my high school students about the staring issue and they just laughed. They said it's because people here don't see white people very much. But, honestly, I'm not the only white person here and the advertisements, storefronts and television shows and ads are plastered with white faces. Surely, I'm not the only white face this woman has ever seen.
Apparently manners are not universal.

Enough Already!!!

Being an American living abroad poses a problem. Most people hate us and they let you know that at every possible opportunity.
I always try to be very careful when meeting new people. I'm aware of how Americans are generalized and perceived and the majority of it is warranted. If someone actually gets to the point of asking me where I'm from I try to tell them quietly and calmly; Americans are perceived as loud and in-your-face. I also try to say I'm from the U.S., rather than America. I think saying I'm from "America" is kind of pompous because there's also Central and South America, not just North America.
I only have a couple of friends from the U.S. in Korea, most of my friends are from South Africa and Ireland. I get crap ALL the time for being a "Yank" (a term I completely despise and doesn't even make any sense. I'm from Montana for God's sake, not the East Coast!!) Whenever I'm with my friends they tease me relentlessly and incessantly about being from the U.S. It's getting quite old.
"Oh Erika," they say. "We're just teasing you. We love you. We know not all American's are assholes."
But, honestly, I get crap ALL THE TIME from them and it's really starting to irritate me. I know the U.S. has A LOT of problems and the country's leaders and many of its citizens are pompous, arrogant, bullying assholes. I know this. The U.S. has many faults and it's done many bad things and will continue to do many bad things motivated by power, money and greed. But not all of us are bad people.
One of my friends told me I was "the least American American" he'd ever met. Ummm, thanks? I know he meant it as a compliment, but I wasn't entirely sure how to take it.
I've had a couple other friends tell me that when they first heard I was from the U.S. they weren't too excited about meeting me, but they said they actually really like me, which I just think is funny. It's so unfortunate that there are so many U.S. assholes out there giving the rest of us a bad name.
I love my country. I know it's not always a great place, but it's still my home and I don't want to hear how terrible it is, and how terrible I am because I happened to be born there, seven days a week.

A "Shocking" Lesson

There is a Korean pop (K-Pop) music band called Twenty-One. Apparently their little gang or "call" sign is some sort of crazy hand action.
The action is extending one's forefinger, middle finger and pinky finger, while keeping the ring finger down. This, if you try it, is called "The Shocker" and if you're a junior high boy, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
However, it's supposed to depict a "2" and a "1" for the band.
All my students were doing it in class yesterday. They have no idea what the hand action means. I kept trying to get their focus onto something else so they'd stop throwing the shocker around in the classroom while I was trying to teach them about adjectives.
I love that Korean children are incredibly innocent, but sometimes their innocence makes me blush.

What's in a Name?

I absolutely love some of the names of the students I see every day. Everyone is given an English name when they begin learning the language. Some of them are chosen for them and some of them choose their own names.
I've heard quite a few crazy ones since landing in the ROK five months ago. Here is a snippet of my favorites thus far (and yes, I actually have to call them by these names):

Prize
Lion
Princess
Shiny
Rolly
Elmo
Joon
Bee
Cherry
Ravi (I think it's supposed to be Robby, but Koreans get confused with "v's" and "b's")
Sugar

I think they are absolutely hilarious and when I have to call out roll in class, it's all I can do to keep from cracking up. If they misbehave in class, it's even more ridiculous.
Most of the students I teach have "normal" names like Robert and Alice, but these ones take the cake. I just wonder what will happen if they eventually end up studying English at a Western university. They will no doubt get a few looks and the poor kids will have no idea what is so funny.

Black Day

Keeping up with this blog would be so much easier if I actually had a computer of my own.
Heavy sigh.
Oh well.

So the couples of South Korea recently celebrated "White Day." This is much like Valentine's Day, except the man in a relationship must shower gifts upon the woman in the relationship on White Day. It's celebrated on March 14th. Valentine's Day is still celebrated on February 14th, however just the women are responsible for bestowing gifts upon the men in the land of coupledom on February 14th.
One of the Korean teachers I work with was all bent out of shape because her boyfriend's birthday is on March 14th and so she was STILL responsible for giving a gift on White Day, the day that was reserved for her! However, she still got an embarrassingly large basket of chocolates on White Day (which she did NOT share, I might add).
I've heard that there is also something known as "Black Day," which is a holiday for singles in Korea. ("Singles Apprection Day", I would assume?) I don't know if this holiday does, in fact, exist but I'm certainly interested in that particular day. I would think it's on April 14th to stay consistent with the mid-month theme? And who exactly buys you candy and gifts of love and affection? Is it much like the Tooth Fairy where small tokens of monetary goodness (or chocolate) suddenly appear while I slumber?
One does not know the answer to such burning questions, but as April continues to come ever closer I will wait with bated breath...

Practice Makes for a Bit of VD

Being exotic has such an intoxicating magnetism to it. There is nothing exotic about me except when I'm traveling abroad -- especially in Asia.
It is such a drug, one where you can only feel high when far away from home and all those who know you. In a far-away land you can, essentially, be whomever you want to be. You can be reborn, you can choose a different path, pursue interests you never had the chance to before or never knew you wanted to.
I have a friend here who I will not name because he would be deeply embarrassed. He was never much of a ladies man back home, quite the contrary, he would tell me. But in Korea, he is utterly fascinating and exotic and he completely relishes it. Who wouldn't? It's only human nature to want to be desired so intensely.
When he came to this country he wasn't even attracted to Asian women. Now he can't get enough of them and he has eyes for no other.
He doesn't want to leave this country. Ever. He goes from social event to social event desperately trying to meet as many women as he possibly can, hoping to make enough of a connection. He has a personality that is charming when he wants it to be and, given his "exotic-nes," the Korean women lap it up. It is quite something to watch.
He actually has books on how to talk and interact with women - and he studies them. He will purposely put himself in certain situations with the intent to practice specific techniques. He actually told me all this. I had no idea men went through so much work and effort to get laid. Amazing.

Highway to Hell

Uggg. I'm so behind on my updates...

In my fruitless efforts to make my students prolific writers, I am constantly making them write sentences. Literally every class I give them words and make them form their own sentences with the words.
One of the words in a recent class was "welcome." Easy enough and a very common word used in the English language.
One of my students wrote, "Welcome to Hell."
I could not stop laughing. It doesn't happen very often, but sometimes I'm knocked off-kilter by my students' brazen humor and honesty.

Yin & Yang

Today I had a lesson with some of my younger students about opposites. We were writing sentences with words that had inverse meanings, like black and white, hot and cold, etc.
One of my students, Mike, is such a sweet little kid. He's very studious and always wants to get the right answer and find the correct way of doing things. He's extremely well-behaved and just an all-around awesome kid.
During our lesson today, Mike was trying to figure out what to write for the words "young" and "old". He said, "Erika, you are old and I am young." Then he got a big smile on his face and started laughing. I started laughing too and said, "Hey! But, yeah, you are right, that would work for a sentence."
Then after class he was the last one to leave the classroom, he turned to me, smiled and said, "Erika, you are not old." And then he continued walking out the door.
Aaawww! These kids are awesome sometimes.

"Shush!!"

I have a middle school class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The class has 3 boys and 3 girls. The girls are sweet, shy, quiet and smart. The boys are loud, uninterested, funny and incredibly annoying.
There is one student in particular, Jerry, who is always getting in trouble for talking in class. I know that sounds crazy being an English class and all, but he's rarely on task and almost never talking about the subject the rest of us are discussing. I'm constantly saying, "Jerry, be quiet." "Jerry, shuuussh!" "Jerry, seriously, shut up." Yes, I've told my students to shut up. You can't do that in the States. At least not that I remember.
Today my students were asking me what kind of job I had before I came to Korea. I told them I used to be a journalist. They said, "Oh, like a reporter?"
"Yes," I replied. "Like a reporter."
Then they asked me if I'd ever written a book. I told them I hadn't yet, but I wanted to someday.
Jerry then pipes up: "I think your best seller is called 'Shush.'
I think he's on to something...

Rules of Korea

This was posted to my Facebook account by one of my friends in Dangjin. He's getting ready to go home after a year in South Korea. It's all frighteningly true.

Things foreigners should have been told on arrival:
1) Despite popular belief... you are NOT handsome.
2) Kimchi will cure cancer.
3) Don't climb a mountain unless you check the current fashion trends.
4) Kimchi will cure AIDS.
5) Old women do have super powers, the older, the more powerful.
6) Ice cream will solve any dispute, even in the middle of winter.
7) He can understand you, but he is just seeing how many ways you can say the correct word.
8) Taxi drivers do promote whiplash and inconsistent pedal pushing.
9) Don't ask what it is till you have eaten half of it.
10) Watching TV while driving is much safer than driving and speaking on a cellphone.
11) Your body hair is fascinating.
12) No they don't sweat, its just you.
13) "Boobi Boobi" is allowed in clubs, just don't touch boobi while doing it.
14) Its fine to talk in the subway, just don't smile.
15) Your jeans will never be tight enough.

Ugg

Partying until 7 a.m. is never a good idea, no matter how old or young you think you are. I thought I was passed that crap. Uggg.

Canine Consumption

Talking about eating dog has become a topic of frequent conversation lately between my students and myself.
It starts off innocently enough. We begin talking about food and I ask the students what they're favorite kind of food is and we discuss differences between Korean and American food.
A 16-year-old student in one of my advanced classes started talking about food and somehow veered toward the subject of eating dog.
"Absolutely not!" I retorted. "I will never eat dog! That's the one thing I won't try."
"You should, it's delicious," she said in a sinister half-whisper as the corners of her mouth turned upward in a little smile.
I just sat there blinking at her. Did I just see her smile when she said dog was delicious?! I whipped out my camera and showed her a picture of my black lab, Bohdi.
"I can't eat that!" I exclaimed. And we both started laughing. "He's so cute, he's my baby!"
Then just the other night, during my middle school class, I was asking my students what was in bulgogi and one of them piped up saying that it was made of dog.
I said, "What?!" eyes wide and terrified. I've eaten bulgogi and was under the impression it was beef. If I had inadvertently eaten dog I would have cried and likely vomited.
Luckily one of the other students said bulgogi wasn't dog, it was beef. But, she said, dog is very healthy and much more tender. Then all the students went on and on and on about how delicious dog is.
I told them I'm willing to try anything, but I refuse to try dog. I absolutely won't eat a dog.
"I have a dog," I said.
Then they asked what kind of dog he was and if I had him here with me. I told them my dog was safe at home with my parents in the U.S.
One of the students asked, "Your dog is with your parents?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Will your parents eat your dog?" he asked with a serious face.
I laughed.
"Umm, no. My parents most definitely will not be eating my dog."
I'll try anything twice. Except bacon martinis, that I will only do once! And dog -- I will never, ever, EVER eat dog.