Standing in line for Zone B, waiting to get on plane, I had on a pair of broken down flats from Target with inserts in the bottom to prevent total foot collapse. Inside of my carry on luggage, I had a pair of slippers. Every woman in front of me, and everyong woman behind me, had on strappy, sky high, runway shoes with labels I hadn't even heard of before.
Which, in my opinion, was more than a little odd.
Then I arrived to find that 97% of Korean women are always dressed to kill from the ankle down. It's incredible! I mean, it's been rainy and humid every day since I got here, which means slippery sidewalks and puddles galore. Now to me, that's rain boot weather. But when I stepped out onto tho the street with my rainboots, every single woman I passed looked at me.
Puzzled. Horrified.
Teacher Ghey (my only friend at the moment) burst into laughter when she saw them.
"You look very safe," she said, "You are wearing safety boots."
Of course by 'safety' she means 'ugly'.
This is, sadly, not the first time we had that particular conversation. The first time was when I wore gym shoes to school. Ok, so I didn't wear gym shoes in school, I know better than that. But I wore them to walk back and forth, because the walk is about a mile.
When Teacher Ghey saw them, she put on a polite a face as possible and said, "Those shoes? With your dress?"
I have not worn those shoes out again.
My sense of practicality is viscerally offense to other people. If I am wearing ugly shoes, people stare at me, eyes saying: "WHERE IS YOUR PRIDE AS A WOMAN?"
It's pretty intense.
I've switched my gym shoes for my converse, and try to resist the boots unless it's pooring. Which is pretty often.
I am going to need more shoes.
8.30.2010
8.29.2010
Slightly of Fatness
In order to get a cell phone, open a bank account, and generally function as a legitimite foreign member of Korean society, I had to get a medical exam. Now, the last time I had a medical exam like this, I had to go shirtless in front of two male, french technicians to have a lung scan, then sit with a doctor who couldn't stop staring at the outline of my boobs on the print, instead of checking my TB free lungs.
I was, therefore, greatly relieved when I walked in the female-run medical clinic. Of course, this feeling was amplified for the fact that I was woozy from starvation, being accidentally about 20 hours into an 8 hour empty stomach regime, for the sake of the bloodwork.
My co-worker, Ghey, lead me gently from station to station, filled out all of my paperwork, and acted as a translator. Other than the starving thing, the process was pretty painless.
Then, I went over the weight stand.
I stepped onto a machine that eletronically measured my height in meters and my weight in kilos. Or whatever that measurement is that is not lbs. The numbers zipped along furiously, then stopped. In the topmost window of the machine popped up the result.
I gasped.
"It says I'm slightly of fatness!" The technician looked at the reading, then my backside and choked awkwardly. The tech next to her stiffled a giggled. Ghey gasped, too.
"Don' listen." She saidl, "You're beautiful."
I cracked up, my laugh bouncing around the otherwise quiet clinic.
"I can't believe it." I said, stepping off the scale, still laughing. "Slightly of Fatness!"
I mean, wow. They don't mince words here.
Welcome to Korea.
I was, therefore, greatly relieved when I walked in the female-run medical clinic. Of course, this feeling was amplified for the fact that I was woozy from starvation, being accidentally about 20 hours into an 8 hour empty stomach regime, for the sake of the bloodwork.
My co-worker, Ghey, lead me gently from station to station, filled out all of my paperwork, and acted as a translator. Other than the starving thing, the process was pretty painless.
Then, I went over the weight stand.
I stepped onto a machine that eletronically measured my height in meters and my weight in kilos. Or whatever that measurement is that is not lbs. The numbers zipped along furiously, then stopped. In the topmost window of the machine popped up the result.
I gasped.
"It says I'm slightly of fatness!" The technician looked at the reading, then my backside and choked awkwardly. The tech next to her stiffled a giggled. Ghey gasped, too.
"Don' listen." She saidl, "You're beautiful."
I cracked up, my laugh bouncing around the otherwise quiet clinic.
"I can't believe it." I said, stepping off the scale, still laughing. "Slightly of Fatness!"
I mean, wow. They don't mince words here.
Welcome to Korea.
8.27.2010
My new apartment
I was (and will) post some pictures of my new apartment, but I think this video captures it better than a photo can.
Note: I am uploading this video from my work computer (I know - typical), which has no speakers. Seriously - I don't know how it's possible tthat this computer doesn't have speakers, but that's how it is. So I'm sorry if the sound quality is poor. I was not able to check it before posting!
Note: I am uploading this video from my work computer (I know - typical), which has no speakers. Seriously - I don't know how it's possible tthat this computer doesn't have speakers, but that's how it is. So I'm sorry if the sound quality is poor. I was not able to check it before posting!
8.26.2010
Octopus and Rice
17 hours. That's how long it took me to fly from Detroit to Incheon international airport. And that's not including layovers! It was 3AM EST when I finally departed from LAX for the last leg of travel - a 12 hour flight.
Have you ever flown 12 hours?
The most that I had done before was 8. If you, like me, think that 12 can't be that much worse, let me tell you: you are wrong. 12 hours is excrutiating. I kept waking up thinking it was time for breakfast only to realize we were still hovering above the pacific. And for some reason, on Asiana Air, even though they let you pick your own movies, they start at stop at specific times - one movie showing at the beginning of the flight, and one at the end. If you're counting, that's at least 6 hours of being bored in between.
And of course, I was sitting in front of a fractious 1 year old whose anxious parents were so wound up in trying to bribe her into being a "good girl" I felt like I would go into a panic myself. Kayla, the child, was having none of their malarchy - she just screamed and kicked, and asked if she could get up when the fasten seat belt sign was lit.
Thank goodness for air plane radio, set to "Ambient Nighttime Sounds" or I wouldn't have made it through.
When it was finally time for breakfast, I was all prepared to try the Korean option. One of the absurdly beautiful flight attendants leaned in and asked me: "Octopus and Rice, or Omelet?"
My mouth dropped.
My stomach curled.
My brain utterly rejected the idea of eating octopus 9 hours into a dizzying, leg cramping flight, and my resolve to be adventurous crumbled.
I ate a few bites of my soggy, luke-nuked omelet, then gave up on it favor of unripe orange slices and chunks of honey dew melon while I watched the last 20 minutes of Shrek: The Final Chapter.
I had time for one last trip to the bathroom before we landed, shuffled through immigration, picked up luggage and charted it through the gate in search of my ride, Mr. Kim.
Have you ever flown 12 hours?
The most that I had done before was 8. If you, like me, think that 12 can't be that much worse, let me tell you: you are wrong. 12 hours is excrutiating. I kept waking up thinking it was time for breakfast only to realize we were still hovering above the pacific. And for some reason, on Asiana Air, even though they let you pick your own movies, they start at stop at specific times - one movie showing at the beginning of the flight, and one at the end. If you're counting, that's at least 6 hours of being bored in between.
And of course, I was sitting in front of a fractious 1 year old whose anxious parents were so wound up in trying to bribe her into being a "good girl" I felt like I would go into a panic myself. Kayla, the child, was having none of their malarchy - she just screamed and kicked, and asked if she could get up when the fasten seat belt sign was lit.
Thank goodness for air plane radio, set to "Ambient Nighttime Sounds" or I wouldn't have made it through.
When it was finally time for breakfast, I was all prepared to try the Korean option. One of the absurdly beautiful flight attendants leaned in and asked me: "Octopus and Rice, or Omelet?"
My mouth dropped.
My stomach curled.
My brain utterly rejected the idea of eating octopus 9 hours into a dizzying, leg cramping flight, and my resolve to be adventurous crumbled.
I ate a few bites of my soggy, luke-nuked omelet, then gave up on it favor of unripe orange slices and chunks of honey dew melon while I watched the last 20 minutes of Shrek: The Final Chapter.
I had time for one last trip to the bathroom before we landed, shuffled through immigration, picked up luggage and charted it through the gate in search of my ride, Mr. Kim.
8.22.2010
Oh wait! One more thing!
AAA! I'm not ready! I'm leaving today in the afternoon, and I keep thinking of a million last minute things. I was so wired I could barely sleep last night. I kept a mental "to do" list that I keep adding to in moments of panic between the hours of 2:46 AM and 5:23 AM.
But this is it.
I've packed my retainer and answered all of my emails until goodness knows when I'll figure out where the nearest PC cafe is.
OMG, I just remembered one more thing.
Gotta go!
8.21.2010
25th Birthday, the Last Day in America
Hello Bloggies.
Today is my birthday. I am 25 years old, which really didn't seem like a big deal until I stopped and realized that I have been alive for a quarter of a century, I have friends I have known for 18 years and I have truly outgrown my high school sense of fashion.
WHOA.
Later today, I am going to do one of my last american errands, which is going to brunch. Can you imagine a year without diner-style brunch? Without fried eggs, REAL bacon (none of that uncooked canadian bacon hooey), home fries, french toast, pancakes, and fresh squeezed orange juice?
I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it!
Of course, I have a back-up plan.
One of the items that has survived the packing-pare down is my Rumford baking soda - the only ingredient I'm afraid that might not have in Korea. Now, I can make pancakes whenever!
Okay. I just realized that I'm trying to tell you about my last day, and I keep rambling on about pancakes. Whoops!
The truth is, I'm distracted. And a little in shock. And still trying to find one button-one blouse that will cover my american-sized chest before I leave. And cuddling with my cats, and hugging my mom, and making her take me to Sweet Potato Sensations for the umpteenth time.
It hurts a little, to leave it all behind.
This is the sad part. The saying goodbye, the wondering what I'll miss. The overstuffed suitcase, the rush to the airport stress, the that minute things that just wont get taken care of.
This is my last day.
Of course, I'm excited. But it just really hasn't hit me yet. I've stopped thumbing through guidebooks in favor of reading old children's books that are in my room.
Tomorrow, I hit the tarmac.
Take a breath.
Fly.
Today is my birthday. I am 25 years old, which really didn't seem like a big deal until I stopped and realized that I have been alive for a quarter of a century, I have friends I have known for 18 years and I have truly outgrown my high school sense of fashion.
WHOA.
Later today, I am going to do one of my last american errands, which is going to brunch. Can you imagine a year without diner-style brunch? Without fried eggs, REAL bacon (none of that uncooked canadian bacon hooey), home fries, french toast, pancakes, and fresh squeezed orange juice?
I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it!
Of course, I have a back-up plan.
One of the items that has survived the packing-pare down is my Rumford baking soda - the only ingredient I'm afraid that might not have in Korea. Now, I can make pancakes whenever!
Okay. I just realized that I'm trying to tell you about my last day, and I keep rambling on about pancakes. Whoops!
The truth is, I'm distracted. And a little in shock. And still trying to find one button-one blouse that will cover my american-sized chest before I leave. And cuddling with my cats, and hugging my mom, and making her take me to Sweet Potato Sensations for the umpteenth time.
It hurts a little, to leave it all behind.
This is the sad part. The saying goodbye, the wondering what I'll miss. The overstuffed suitcase, the rush to the airport stress, the that minute things that just wont get taken care of.
This is my last day.
Of course, I'm excited. But it just really hasn't hit me yet. I've stopped thumbing through guidebooks in favor of reading old children's books that are in my room.
Tomorrow, I hit the tarmac.
Take a breath.
Fly.
8.10.2010
And then, I lost the dog. Almost.
The day I went to interview at the Korean Consulate in Newton, I almost lost my roommate's dog. When The Veganess came home, she greeted by enthusiastic yipping from the back porch, The Puppy sticking her head between the railings and yelping, "I'm so glad that you're home!"
I was standing in the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher, completely oblivious to the fact that I had locked The Puppy out. I had been distracted in the morning, leaving the door carelessly open. I dressed myself carefully, taking the time to make sure I didn't look like the vacationing ragamuffin that I currently am. I had just enough presence of mind to brush my teeth and put in my pearl earrings, and I didn't bother to check when I closed the back door to see if The Puppy was lingering in the sunshine.
This interview is a pretty big deal. In order to get and E-2 visa, I had to meet with the Korean Consul. This is, I am sure, to make sure that I'm not a psycho-drug-dealing floozy masquerading as an English teacher. I know that's what they would check for, because the interview tips sent to me by recruiter included helpful nuggets like "deny all drug use". After skimming the list of questions, I realized that I needed to put on my ultra "goody-goody" gear to make the right impression.
Yes, I said skim just now.
It was not until I was halfway down Mt. Auburn Street on the 71 bus that I really took a good look at the prep sheet. That's when I saw "They may ask you questions about your generally knowledge of Korea."
Uh, oh..
My knowledge, such as it is, was taken mostly from the Insight Guides book that I'm not yet done with. And unfortunately, the only name that I seem to be able to remember is Kim Jong-il, and I'm pretty sure that's the one name I definitely should not mention within spitting distance of the South Korean Consulate.
Now I'm sweating, despite the air conditioned bus.
I showed up 30 minutes early to the interview, which was just enough time for me to plop down in the waiting area and watch Korean TV, hoping to gain some last minute insight.
Of course, I don't speak any Korean, so it's not helping.
Then again, even if I did speak Korean, most of the stuff on the TV is adds about toothpaste, tooth gel, healing tooth pain, and cooking frozen dinners.
Interesting, but not helpful.
"This way!" The door into the office opens, and the small man who took my papers waves me inside. "The Consul" he says, "is gibbity elle gibbity".
...
"Pardon?"
" EE ELLE EE."
" E L E?"
He shakes his head, "EE ELLLE EE"
I smile and nod. Ok, welp, pronouncing the Consul's name (or was that how you say "Consul" in Korean?" just went out the window.
An office door opens, and there is the Consul. A smiling, friendly, neat looking man. He says hello, and bows. My hand twitches back from almost reaching out to shake his when I see he's not going for it. No hand shaking in this culture, I guess?
I should have known that. That how it goes in the movies.
Not that I make a habit of taking any cultural clues from movies.
Still.
I hustle onto the plush leather couch before I can embarrass myself too badly.
"So," says the Consul, flipping through my documents which have magically be transferred to the thick leather folder on his coffee table, "what do you expect from your experience in Korea?"
"Well," I said, "I expect to teach. But also to learn," I start grinning, "I was watching the TV in the lobby. I would love to learn Korean."
He smiles, so I continue.
"Actually, I know one phrase." So I lied early. I know a little Korean.
"I know how to say my name," I put my hands out for balance, "here we go."
"An yong ma seyo*" I say.
"Oh," he chuckles, "An yong ma seyo" (It sounds so much more legit when he says it)
"Chan yun, Mishi, Imnida" I grin, wide. I am truly proud of myself. I kind of can't help the grin.
He laughs, surprised, "Perfect!"
I felt like I had just been given an official pat on the head for saying "Hello, my name is Mishi." I decide I really like this Consul.
We chatted for 5 more minutes - seriously, only 5 - about whether or not I had in Korean friends, and when I was expecting to arrive in Korea. Then it was over.
"Really?" I said, "You don't have any more questions for me?"
"Nope" he smiled again, totally reserved.
We said our goodbyes, and that was that. After all that worrying.
Oh, there was one more thing. When I was on my way out, he said,
"Enjoy your time in Korea!", and I saw myself out.
At home, The Puppy was waiting patiently on the porch. "Did you let her out?" The Veganness asked me, but I couldn't remember. Why would I have opened the door? What was I doing out there?
Oh yeah, opening up an old container I'd found while packing that was full of...
scratch that. It's really gross.
Thankfully, The Puppy stayed put and didn't run away. She is such a good doggy.
*Please excuse the transliteration. I don't know how to write Korean at all yet, so if I got it all wrong, just forgive my lack of knowledge.
I was standing in the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher, completely oblivious to the fact that I had locked The Puppy out. I had been distracted in the morning, leaving the door carelessly open. I dressed myself carefully, taking the time to make sure I didn't look like the vacationing ragamuffin that I currently am. I had just enough presence of mind to brush my teeth and put in my pearl earrings, and I didn't bother to check when I closed the back door to see if The Puppy was lingering in the sunshine.
This interview is a pretty big deal. In order to get and E-2 visa, I had to meet with the Korean Consul. This is, I am sure, to make sure that I'm not a psycho-drug-dealing floozy masquerading as an English teacher. I know that's what they would check for, because the interview tips sent to me by recruiter included helpful nuggets like "deny all drug use". After skimming the list of questions, I realized that I needed to put on my ultra "goody-goody" gear to make the right impression.
Yes, I said skim just now.
It was not until I was halfway down Mt. Auburn Street on the 71 bus that I really took a good look at the prep sheet. That's when I saw "They may ask you questions about your generally knowledge of Korea."
Uh, oh..
My knowledge, such as it is, was taken mostly from the Insight Guides book that I'm not yet done with. And unfortunately, the only name that I seem to be able to remember is Kim Jong-il, and I'm pretty sure that's the one name I definitely should not mention within spitting distance of the South Korean Consulate.
Now I'm sweating, despite the air conditioned bus.
I showed up 30 minutes early to the interview, which was just enough time for me to plop down in the waiting area and watch Korean TV, hoping to gain some last minute insight.
Of course, I don't speak any Korean, so it's not helping.
Then again, even if I did speak Korean, most of the stuff on the TV is adds about toothpaste, tooth gel, healing tooth pain, and cooking frozen dinners.
Interesting, but not helpful.
"This way!" The door into the office opens, and the small man who took my papers waves me inside. "The Consul" he says, "is gibbity elle gibbity".
...
"Pardon?"
" EE ELLE EE."
" E L E?"
He shakes his head, "EE ELLLE EE"
I smile and nod. Ok, welp, pronouncing the Consul's name (or was that how you say "Consul" in Korean?" just went out the window.
An office door opens, and there is the Consul. A smiling, friendly, neat looking man. He says hello, and bows. My hand twitches back from almost reaching out to shake his when I see he's not going for it. No hand shaking in this culture, I guess?
I should have known that. That how it goes in the movies.
Not that I make a habit of taking any cultural clues from movies.
Still.
I hustle onto the plush leather couch before I can embarrass myself too badly.
"So," says the Consul, flipping through my documents which have magically be transferred to the thick leather folder on his coffee table, "what do you expect from your experience in Korea?"
"Well," I said, "I expect to teach. But also to learn," I start grinning, "I was watching the TV in the lobby. I would love to learn Korean."
He smiles, so I continue.
"Actually, I know one phrase." So I lied early. I know a little Korean.
"I know how to say my name," I put my hands out for balance, "here we go."
"An yong ma seyo*" I say.
"Oh," he chuckles, "An yong ma seyo" (It sounds so much more legit when he says it)
"Chan yun, Mishi, Imnida" I grin, wide. I am truly proud of myself. I kind of can't help the grin.
He laughs, surprised, "Perfect!"
I felt like I had just been given an official pat on the head for saying "Hello, my name is Mishi." I decide I really like this Consul.
We chatted for 5 more minutes - seriously, only 5 - about whether or not I had in Korean friends, and when I was expecting to arrive in Korea. Then it was over.
"Really?" I said, "You don't have any more questions for me?"
"Nope" he smiled again, totally reserved.
We said our goodbyes, and that was that. After all that worrying.
Oh, there was one more thing. When I was on my way out, he said,
"Enjoy your time in Korea!", and I saw myself out.
At home, The Puppy was waiting patiently on the porch. "Did you let her out?" The Veganness asked me, but I couldn't remember. Why would I have opened the door? What was I doing out there?
Oh yeah, opening up an old container I'd found while packing that was full of...
scratch that. It's really gross.
Thankfully, The Puppy stayed put and didn't run away. She is such a good doggy.
*Please excuse the transliteration. I don't know how to write Korean at all yet, so if I got it all wrong, just forgive my lack of knowledge.
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