Filed under: books, changes, host fam, how we roll, life in Jeju, miscommunication, okay seriously Korea, reading
Considering the typhoon, it was a surprisingly wonderful Sunday.
Full disclosure, as always: We brought the storm on ourselves. My friend G’s host sister, J, told her cheerfully that a typhoon was coming Sunday, but given the fact that no one seemed to be evacuating, we all laughed it off as typical Korean hyperbole.* Also, the two weather words all my students seem to know on their own are “fine” and “typhoon.” I thought this was funny.
I was wrong.
It’s been a rough week anyway for pretty much everyone I know – my friend A said that atmospheric changes were afoot, which explained my desire on Friday to personally throttle every single student in my second grade class, but I don’t know anyone on this island who made it through the week without at least once casting a longing glance back towards American shores. So ending with a Category 4 hurricane isn’t really surprising, I guess. Yesterday was cloudy, a little rainy, but about 75% of the island crew ended up seeing The Bourne Supremacy and/or wandering around looking for entertainment and/or eating Red Mango (finally), eating Indian food, receiving a free coffee mug from the only GNC in the province, and visiting the English bookstore and buying copies of Kingsley Amis’ Lucky Jim and Paul Auster’s New York trilogy. (Okay, the last part was just me.) Then G and my friend E and I went to the jjimjilbang with my host fam, where we all fell asleep on the floor and didn’t leave until 2 AM. At this point: no evacuations, no alarms, no warnings from the Big Brother-style speaker on my wall from which the superintendent declaims. I hope you don’t think I’m joking on that last part.
We woke up this morning with a promise hanging over our heads: pudding, or “ding-pu,” as HB has taken to calling it. (The first time I made it – out of boredom, on another rainy night – he called the ingredients pudding, but after witnessing its metamorphosis into dessert, decided that the name needed a change as well.) Because it was HB’s birthday party day, E and G and I ventured out into the rain to the supermarket down the street and to Paris Baguette for breakfast. It was a walk that would cost us four umbrellas. I had trouble standing upright. By the time we realized how bad it was, however, we were on a mission. Also so wet that it didn’t really matter if we got any wetter.
So we got our chocolate and our sugar and our croissants and sticky buns and green-tea-cream-cheese-pancakey-thing, and headed home, where the power appeared to be flickering, to no one’s consternation but ours. We made pudding by candlelight. We ate pudding and fried chicken with HF and HB’s friends by candlelight. At this point, trees were falling. Then we sat around and talked and read our books, in English, and took a nap, listening to the winds batter the window. When we woke up, the buses weren’t running, so we played Uno with HS.
When we finally made it to the bus station, the streets were flooded, windows were broken, and branches littered the streets. We got E on a bus to Seogwipo and G in her taxi to Hallim, and made it home, where HD, HB, HS and I ate ramen and, because I am forever behind every trend, I read more of the last Harry Potter, again by candlelight. (Side note: I can’t put it down. I wouldn’t call myself a Potter fanatic, but what I love about Rowling is her ability to create a propulsive story – i.e., I always always always want to keep reading.) Then the lights came back on, and I was able to discover that what had actually occurred was Typhoon Nari, with winds somewhere between 131 and 155 miles per hour. Oh.
This is so typical, for us to be here and have no idea that we’re surviving a massive storm. It’s the grand-scale edition of getting on a bus and hoping it goes our way. Welcome to life in a foreign country. My American mother asked me today if people don’t evacuate, and HS said no; I’m not sure if this was the first typhoon to hit the island, or if it was just the first typhoon in a while, based on what she said (see? SEE?), and I don’t know if people are blase or if they’re actually freaking out and they’re just doing it in Korean. You know? I never imagined that I could experience a storm in this way. But then I never imagined a lot of things.
*There is no typical Korean hyperbole. Mistake Number One.
I’ve been watching this music show thing with HS – maybe it’s an awards show? – and for lack of a better word, it’s awesome. A few observations:
- We just saw the lead singer of this band called Banana Boat prance around on stage in a tailcoat
- Um, I just saw a band called Banana Boat
- All of the bands seem to have at least seven members
- Maybe “bands” isn’t the right word?
- No one can sing – at least in America our production values take care of singers who go flat
Anyway I’m about to call Tony and head out to Hallim for the evening, but I think I have to spend a little more time with HF, since I just got out of bed, you know, an hour or so ago. I actually woke up at 8 AM (thanks, school), watched an episode of Cupid, talked to Glypie, and generally was unproductive before falling back into a hangover-induced stupor around 11. I was working under the (erroneous) impression that my host fam was also asleep, so my sloth was acceptable. Actually, my host family was doing things, like normal people do on Saturdays, and they just didn’t happen to be in the apartment.
So now I’m sitting here in a shirt that says “What a Lovely,” thinking about what the rain means for my plans tomorrow with HB and HS, and about last night. I’m still not worried about the island – I think we’re all settling in, trying to establish our places with our families. I can see how one might be concerned. But I’m not, yet. I’m still happy.
What I am concerned about, though, is Monday. If my class of obnoxious eighth-grade girls yesterday reminded me of anything, it was that I really do need to come up with some sort of disciplinary policy and a set of rules – even if there’s another teacher in the room with me. I wish I’d established this routine earlier. Why did I just assume that they wouldn’t be needed? The educational system is different here, but kids are kids are kids. Even if it seems like only in South Korea would I find a student reminiscent of a small, Korean Eugene Levy. Why are the only resemblances I find obscure ones?
I think – I think - we’re having our first a cappella (aka “English pop song? Do you want to join English pop song club?”) practice on Wednesday, where I will begin the process of whipping these children into singing shape. I want to start with “Lean on Me,” because it’s easy, and who doesn’t like it? Co-Teacher has been incredibly supportive of this endeavor, and she also wrote me a really sweet letter the other day that basically told me to keep on truckin’. It made me glad I spent a lot of money to take a taxi to buy us frozen yogurt.
Filed under: changes, host fam, life in Jeju, miguk fam, skool, stuff, teaching
Korean Minkus* was back in class today. I have to say that a) I really kind of love Class 1J** and b) in addition to KM, it has this really adorable fat kid, another one with these sort of weirdly cute crossed eyes, and one (non-fat) student who clearly speaks English pretty well and uses it to be an asshat. That would be the one who told me that his favorite hobby was “studying” and that I was “beautiful, very beautiful.” (Again, how sad is it that the only kids who tell me that are the ones who are blatantly sucking up?) But he’s funny, and tiny, and I like both of those things.
I’m taking my happiness where I can get it this week, so I was happy to see them, and happy to teach “weather words” today – my goal is to push them out of this semester with the ability to answer basic questions about themselves. Ex. Where are you from, and what is it like? Just to be able to get around. That’s all I’m asking.
In the meantime – I spent tonight painting. Some things about Korea still surprise me, like the fact that the dinky, junky 문방국 (stationery store) down the street sells palettes for $2. As I walked with Host Sister today to the store, I couldn’t help imagining the same goal in Tennessee; first I would have to go to Michael’s or Wal-Mart, but it would be a drive, and depending on traffic and what else was going on that day I would probably have to wait until there was another occasion to go…Here we left; we went into this store that, quite honestly, didn’t look like it should have anything worthwhile, and bought a palette with cartoon characters on it; and then we walked to the grocery store across the street and bought Popsicles. I ate a melon bar.
*My brother has a Shawn Hunter*** jacket – a leather bomber with a shearling collar – and one day my sister and I started calling him and my dad “Shawn and Chet,” which always makes me giggle when I remember it, partially because my father is the opposite of a Chet and partially because Chet is a funny name.
**The people who are sponsoring this yearlong vacation have politely requested that we all dissociate our blogs from: the organization, our schools, our families. So from now on, following Laura’s lead, my organization is now The Program, the people who run my organization are now The People Who Run The Program or possibly The Powers That Be, my school is now My School, my host family is now made of Host Brother (HB), Host Sister (HS), Omoni (Mom), Aboji (Dad). And Class 1J is obviously not named Class 1J. As of right now my friends’ names are staying in, but that might change. If you actually know me and you want more specific information, feel free to comment.
***Did you know that Rider Strong graduated Magna Cum Laude from Columbia? (I accidentally typed in Manga. That must be why I didn’t.)
1. American music played: Azure Ray (host mom likes, natch)
2. Teaching today, I realized that I sound like Will Ferrell talking to Sean Connery on “Celebrity Jeopardy.”
3. New KFB post…check it out on the sidebar, kthx
Filed under: fondness for analogies, host fam, life in Jeju, music, okay seriously Korea
Good thing it’s around midnight and I still have a PowerPoint to complete for Classes 1-4 tomorrow. In college, to be honest, that would have been a decent track record. But now I am a functioning adult – I am – and so I should be doing these things earlier, even though the rush of excitement I feel about tomorrow is the same feeling I’ve always had before the first day of school, from age five to age now.
Again, full disclosure: I would probably have made more progress had I not arrived at school this morning, achy and congested, to find that my computer was entirely in Korean. This made making a snazzy presentation difficult. It actually made making any presentation difficult, since I couldn’t understand any of the commands. After half an hour of trying to explain to the other teachers that I just wanted my computer commands in English, I did NOT want to type in Korean, I did NOT want to read English-language websites, and I was NOT having trouble accessing Microsoft Word, I was able to move on to asking if I could go home and work on my laptop, where all the commands are in beautiful, blessed English. After deterring me for another half hour with hollow promises of repairs by the computer teacher, it was finally discovered that the computer teacher was too busy to fix my computer that day. But then, of course, it was time for lunch. Not time to go home and get some work done, time (of course) to eat. They told me that if I was not feeling well that I should order some mandu with them, so I did. Then they got me some Tylenol and told me that I should eat some noodles before taking the medicine, and that we would be eating both noodles AND mandu, despite the fact that I didn’t really want any mandu in the first place, much less noodles + mandu. Eventually I managed to talk them down to just noodles, although the moment I came home my host brother and sister were like, “Hey, do you want some mandu?”
But in the interest of complete truth, I will admit that I went downtown exploring with HS and HB today, as we had previously planned, when I had foolishly believed that my morning might be productive. After they left for hagwon I stumbled upon an underground fish and vegetable market, where the fish were so fresh that the market didn’t smell and huge pyramids of Jeju tangerines decorated the stalls. I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Then I emerged back into the downtown, went to the wrong Pizza Hut, and finally made it to meet the Jeju-si crew, where – much to my surprise – I almost cried in relief. I told my host mom that I like Korean food better than pizza, which is largely true, but tonight this was the best pizza I had ever had, despite the fact that it was accompanied by really gross and partially frozen lasagna. The crust was filled with cheese and sweet potato. I suggest you not knock the combination until you have tried it.
The operative word around here seems to be “maybe.” As in, “Maybe the computer company is very busy, so they will maybe come tomorrow, or maybe Monday,” or “Maybe that is cuttlefish,” or “Maybe my mother will pick you up.” The element of terrifying uncertainty that’s already inherent in having your language brokenly translated by a twelve-year-old is amplified by such statements; will my host mother be there, or won’t she? Is it squid, or isn’t it? The only explanation I can come up with is that “maybe” is somehow synonymous with “to be,” or that here on this island, nothing is for sure, not even the identity of dried seafood. But it still seems to fit, somehow; after tonight, I have hope for this year. Will it fly? Maybe.
I don’t know if I could drive a car
Fast enough to get to where you are
Or wild enough not to miss the boat completely
Honey, I’m thinking maybe
You know just maybe
- Liz Phair, “Shatter”
- “Praise You,” Fatboy Slim
- “Satellite,” Dave Matthews Band
- the entirety of Sufjan Stevens’ “Michigan” album
- Ralph Stanley
To be fair, the first two stemmed from the fact that Host Brother was working on his English vocab, and two of the words just happened to be “praise” and “satellite.” Also the fact that I will use any excuse. I played Sufjan when we returned home from seeing “D-War” on Saturday night and I was eating instant udon with my host brother and sister, and my host sister requested “soft” music. (My host mom, or omoni, liked it so well that I made her a CD. Incidentally.) As for the bluegrass…well, that’s what I brought them, so. I don’t speak Korean, so this will have to do.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about compromise, and not compromising. I am so happy to be on Jeju with these ETAs, specifically. I am. And I cannot wait to see them. But – at the same time – I am very happy here, happy to be settling in, to continue to get to know my host family, to befriend my teachers, to know the beaches. I miss my friends in other cities, but I’m not leaving Facebook wall posting for everyone I see. I think I’ll be okay for the next six weeks, in other words. But I can’t help but wonder: is this wrong? Is the absence of dependence just a masquerade for the absence of connection? I am content here, at least so far. I know I shouldn’t be doubting myself. But I am.
Last night I also watched an episode of “Scrubs” with HB, who seemed to think it was funny, probably because of Fat Albert’s double cameo appearances. At the part where Dr. Cox explains, “Kelso’s not just some harmless guy pushing my buttons, Carla. He’s a pod person,” I found myself laughing out loud for no particular reason. I seem to be prone to inappropriate displays of emotion lately; for example, right now I am thinking about Coldplay’s song “Yellow” and Joanna Doiron’s house, two things which have no obvious connection, and even though I am lying in a room filled with giant yellow flowers on the walls, I’m in, as they say, a glass case of emotion.
…to paraphrase my friend Elizabeth.*
“You are sick, so I recommend rice.”
- one of my co-teachers/the story of my Korean life
HILLARY, IN MANGLED KOREAN I hope you ate well.
PRINCIPAL, IN NOT-MANGLED KOREAN Tea house?
Getting through Gimpo International Airport was a little like Legends of the Hidden Temple. Can you get to the stationery store to pick up wrapping paper and scissors? Can you get your flight time changed? Can you run to make it to your now-earlier flight? Can you talk your way through the gate when you left your passport in your checked bag? Can you pacify the security officials who want to stop you from going because you are carrying scissors? Can you do it all while bowing to the right people and not causing offense? In a dress?
The answer to all these questions, of course, is yes, as I am currently sitting in an apartment in Jeju City, Jeju, South Korea, aka not Seoul, aka not Chuncheon. The whole adventure made me really appreciate my co-teacher a whole lot. She dropped her papers and the principal had to pick them up, she made us run to catch our flight, and she got lost on the way to the restaurant. In other words, she’s a lot like me. I feel kind of bad for telling one of my friends that I thought she was awkward, because clearly what I should have said is “awesome.”
My principal, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to enjoy speaking in either English or Korea. He mostly communicates through actions, including but not limited to:
- elbowing me and gesturing that I should eat
- forcibly removing my name tag
- making me run faster to the plane
Reportedly, however, he told the other teachers at my school that they got the best teacher. I say reportedly, of course, because I still don’t speak Korean, and my co-teacher told me that. He probably said that they got the sickest teacher, or maybe the most disgusting.
My host parents don’t speak English either, for the most part, but I think this is clearly the family with whom I am meant to be. My host sister is in eighth grade and she’s really into volunteering. My host brother is in sixth grade and says, quote, “My mother and father don’t speak English, but they say I am…mischief?” Meanwhile, I have managed to convey to them that I have a mother and a father, that my father is from Vietnam, that I have a brother and a sister and two dogs, that one of the dogs died, that I have lived in both Kentucky and Tennessee, that I didn’t wrap their presents because the wrapping paper I bought was really ugly, and that I am a walking ball of germs. Everyone here seems to be really into the fact that Dad is 빋남 사람. At lunch yesterday, all the teachers and principals present had a conversation that sounded very much like
She looks Asian. Her father is Vietnamese. Oh, her father is from Vietnam? What did you say? She looks Asian. Oh, it’s because her father is Vietnamese. And her mother is American? Yes, but her father is from Vietnam. Oh, that explains why she looks Asian.
They threw me a surprise party yesterday.
I have to say, so far, that I am very happy.
*Can anyone guess which city in Pennsylvania this quote originally referenced?
EDIT: My host mom has apparently decided that she wants to wear the shirt that I brought that says “Real Men Wear Orange…Tennessee.” Oh God.
