Filed under: Fulbright, crushes, how we roll, life in Chuncheon, music, okay seriously Korea, orientation, pictures, poetry, reading
Standard conversations with my teachers:
HILLARY Bang-teacher!
BANG-선생님 (teacher) Yes?
HILLARY Doesn’t your last name mean “room” in Korean?
BANG-선생님 You call me over for that? That is not question.
in Korean
KIM-선생님 We talk about location. So right now I stand in front of the
HILLARY Oh! Blackboard! I know this one!
KIM-선생님 Um…yes.
Note: we learned “blackboard” on the first day. I tend to get so excited when I recognize words, however, that I call them out regardless of their relevance. It should come as no surprise to anyone, then, that Bang-선생님 had to reassure me repeatedly tonight that she does not think I am stupid.
Here is Bang-선생님:
And here is Kim-선생님, shown here with my friend Ariah:
And here is part of our class at a hof called 75 (or 칠십오 , if you’re into that sort of thing):
This was, of course, pre-Korean haircut. On this night (Thursday), it was just our class. Apparently we are so well known for our poor performance that the advanced teachers actually make fun of our Bang and ask her how the dumb class is going, and she gets really heated on our behalf.
Friday was all the beginning classes’ party. This is post-Korean hair. Which is $8, so I highly recommend.
The club was called “STOP!” Our teachers reserved tables for us and set a cover charge. Note: In Korea, hugging is regarded as strange, but drinking with your teachers is totally acceptable. The above is an abstract depiction of noraebang.
Korean hair:
Something was funny, obviously. You can see the top of this Yoshitomo Nara shirt (also $8, incidentally) that says “mumps.”
These are the pitchers our teachers bought us. Lest you think “Oh, that’s not so big,” let me inform you that my friend Andy, who is shown above holding the aforementioned pitcher, is 6′8″.
The rest of the subjects I have mentioned in previous entries as needing discussion also require photo viewing, and I do not wish to overwhelm the reader, so I’ll deal with these topics incrementally. I will leave you, instead, with some lyrics to a song that I like. Also, I did not bring any books of poetry with me, so I am putting out an official request: blog readers, send me poems you like.
orange ball of peace - the mountain goats
they wanted me to be a lawyer. they wanted me to work in a machine shop. they wanted me to be a designer, but I came out on top. I'm a fire-man. I'm a fire-man. stand and watch the smoke. see the flames rise to the sky. I stand and watch the flames climb higher. I feel the smoke get in my eyes. I'm a fire-man. I'm a fire-man.
