August 30, 2010

Dear Tracy,

I just arrived in Korea! I don't have a phone or an internet connection in my apartment so I am pretty much, completely alone. There is a PC cafe in the same building that I live in, but to be honest I am a little bit afraid to leave my apartment at the moment. Everything is so different here! I'm overwhelmed, so sitting in my tiny studio, slightly insulated from the complete sensory overload is ok with me.

I've only been here a few hours, Tracy, but I already feel more alone then I ever have in my life. The feeling started, if I'm being honest, before I stepped onto the plane. You know that moment when you look and realize that you're the only black person in a room? Now imagine that room is a plane, a plane full of people speaking a language you can't understand, wearing heels and carrying small dogs in knock-off Louis Vuitton carrying cases, and the plane is carrying you to a country which will be much the same except more of them and less of you.

Good lord, what have I done? Why have I done this to myself? I knew two weeks ago when I smugly handed in my notice at Pete's Pizzas and just barely refrained from telling Barbie (you remember Pete's micro-managing bitch of a wife) exactly where she could shove her limp, greasy pizzas. I knew when I packed my bags and dusted off my passport, deleted Jeremy from Facebook (yes, I'm done with him. For real this time) and met you at Rex's Kelly Deli for one last gut-busting-american brunch.

But when Mr. Kim approached me (silently, he speaks no English) outside of the airport through the pissing rain into his comically small van with aggressively bright advertisements on the side, it hit me: I am alone here. If this is wrong Mr. Kim, if this man is a black-market dealer who picks up unsuspecting female English teachers and sells them into the sex trade, I'm toast.

I don't even know how to say, "help me!" in Korean.

There is no one to say it to, if I did know how.

Thankfully, it was the right Mr. Kim who lead me (with only a few slight grunts of communication) to my apartment. Barring the mini-panic attack I had when I stepped off of the elevator and saw a business banner with a huge swastika hanging in the hallway (for a Buddhist something-or-other, not a Nazi block party as I initially thought), everything seems to be legit.

Still, I am taking a moment and hiding from it all. My new co-teacher is supposed to stop by around 10am, which means I can catch a few hours of sleep, or at least try - nearly broke my back when I tested out my new mattress, it's actually harder than the floor, no joke.  It's quiet, and rainy this morning, perfect for sleep. Plus, my apartment has no toilet paper, so I might as well sleep to distract myself from how badly I have to pee.

Miss you already, Trace. Write me soon!

Introducing: Letters From Korea

Hello bloggies,

It has been a rather long stretch of time since I have written anything here, I know. I considered, again, abandoning this project all together, because I seem to be incapable of managing my writing time successfully between my blog-life and my fiction life.

Hence the silence.

But life in Korea grinds and skips along, and there is much you miss when I don't write. Actually, there is much you miss even when I do write, because I hesitate to truly show the naked, gooey details of my life. You know, the good bits.

So. I have decided to try something new.

I am going to write a series of short shorts, Letters From Korea. They will not be about me, although my own experiences will naturally influence the content. I am hoping that these shorts will be more honest, and more interesting than what has come before.

It's an experiment, so we'll see how it goes.

If you like them, I would love to hear your feedback in the comments.