Amanda Takes Off...

Yes, I actually bought these ankle socks last night. I don't normally like ankle socks, but I'm in Korea...

And today I found these socks for 1,000 won a pair.

There's a small set of two islands called Dokdo in Korean, Takeshima in Japanese, and you may know them as Liancourt Rocks. This is disputed land. They're rocky and basically uninhabitable from my understanding, but Korean school kids will tell you they want to live there. Around the islands there's a rich diversity of sea life and that's part of the dispute.

The dispute is A Very Big Deal.

There's another disputed island, Daemado in Korean, Tsushima in Japanese. I hadn't heard of this dispute until I was looking up words from these socks.

I don't know why there's a ㅋsitting there, but the rest of it reads

And to complete your Random Photo Post, my dobok, folded up after class.

He tricked me.

Tonight I was supposed to be tested on Tae Gueks 1-8 Jang. In other words, everything. I told Master I wasn’t sure if I’d get there before 7:45 (on testing days, we start class at 7:30). He called me at 7:20 and asked where I was. I happened to be at the train station and told him so. He said, "OK, come quickly."

I heard my name called out as I reached the top of the steps and I waved my hand at the window while I took off my shoes. When I walked into the studio everyone clapped. I looked at them. There they were, sixteen students, Master, and his daughter, sitting on a circle, the floor in front of them covered in newspapers. There was a chocolate cake in the center and pizza boxes, soda, and chopsticks distributed. They were clapping because they were waiting for me and now they could eat.

"Sit down," he said, grinning. The only open spot was next to Master and his daughter, with Brave on the other side.

"I need to change." Everyone else was in their doboks.

"No, not now, last day of the year. Sit down. Then test." I sat down, he handed me chopsticks and said, "We have party. Amanda, American pijja?" pointing to pizza. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this party? I always know about the activities...

"Yes, pizza." (There is no z-sound in Korean, hence the z-sound becomes a j-sound.)

He tried, "PIZJA. This," he said, pointing to these fabulous Korean pancake things that were on the other side of the pizza boxes, "Korean pijja. [Studious’] mother."

I was seated with Master (and his daughter) on my right and Brave on my left. I wondered why everyone was from our class. Normally, on testing days, people come from all classes. I shrugged it off. It’s winter break at the schools and the earlier classes are made up of a lot of color-belt kids. Maybe they just couldn’t come, maybe he wanted his oldest, most senior students there. Who knows? I got to eating.

Besides being the last day of the year, it was also my last class in the studio for five weeks or so. I was looking around at the boys and Crybaby Gold Medal Girl. Master’s daughter was saying, "Annyeong hasaeyo, Amanda!" and waving her play handphone (and also a camera!) in the air. I accidentally bumped into Brave and apologized. He smiled his shy Brave smile and said in his quiet Brave voice, "It’s OK, Amanda." I looked at the ad on the newspaper in front of me from Kyung Hee University and easily understood that it was advertising study abroad programs. I said something to Master about understanding and he gave me a high five. Master offered me every drink and I said my throat hurt (I have a terrible cold!) so he sent one of the boys downstairs to get me water. Ghost was being his usual self, and sitting across the circle from me, Studious started joking about "Korean pizza! Yes, yes, Korean pizza!"

I suddenly understood.

I know how important the studio, "my boys," and Master are to me. I know (probably only in part) the impact they have on me, but this whole time I’ve viewed myself as a burden, the random woman who can’t speak, is belts below everyone else, and asks for numerous demonstrations of the same techniques, who makes the boys stay late sometimes while she asks Master grammar questions. (I realized recently that some of the boys are in charge of closing up, hence the reason they stay when I do, though they end up staying late most nights.)

A few of my friends back home have been telling me that I’m having an impact on these people, too, but I didn’t believe them.

The moment Studious said, “Korean pizza!” I thought about something that happened a week ago or so. Crybaby Gold Medal Girl was handing out these delicious chocolate covered bread sticks they have here. I said "thank you," and in turn every other person in the studio said "thank you" in English with a smile or a teasing, friendly look. When I leave, I say goodbye in Korean and usually I get answers in both Korean and English. When I come to the studio, the little kids greet me in high voices and when the older boys and I see each other, we specifically greet each other. Even if Blue doesn't greet any of the kids specifically, he greets me. Studious told me specifically about getting into University. I’ve met Ghost’s uncle and taken the boys out to dinner. They missed me when I was injured.

I’ve been in this studio for nearly 6 months and I am willing to bet this is the most experience any of these students at least have had with a foreigner outside of school. Ever. Master mentions one or two "American friends" from University, but I think they speak Korean and I'm his first ever foreign student.

I’m not sure exactly how I’m impacting these guys, but I know I am, just by the sheer virtue of being their foreigner as much as they’re "my boys."

When we finished eating, I changed while they cleaned up. We sat on the floor, waiting for the test to start, and I breathed deeply. I was very, very nervous to test on all eight forms at the same time, especially since that involved my changed stances (which have improved greatly, but still sometimes trip me up). I was only told on Wednesday that I'd be tested on all eight forms. Tonight I had been studying my forms book on the subway, mentally running through each form, especially the problematic 6th form, several times.

He had us all do Pal Jang (8, my most recent form) together and kept saying, "뒷굽이!" Backstance! That was directed at me. We did it one more time without count.

Then he had us sit down. Master went through the room, saying words to everyone. He got to me and said, "Amanda! Fighting!" I grinned and squeaked out, "Nay!" That about sums up my life in Korea. The shortest statement made to anyone, and fits me to a tee.

When he’d said something to everyone, he went on about taekwondo for a while. I assume he was talking about more philosophical thoughts since I didn’t understand most of it. Then, everyone started clapping the studio's clap and he called me to the front.

I stood, ready to test, and sensed movement behind me. Everyone was moving around. I glanced to the sides, expecting them to be seated. Instead, they were tearing down the testing materials, returning the studio to its normal state. Master told me to remember back stance and use double knife-hand strike on one of the moves.

"Test? Test today? What are we doing?" I asked in Korean.

He grinned. "No test today. Your test yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Everyday."

I punched him on the arm. "어재 집에 연습했어요!" Yesterday I practiced at home! (Oh my, and I used the past tense!) He hadn't told me to, and I hadn't said I would, but I did it. (Why did he have them set up the whole studio to fake my test? Nobody else was testing, at least, not like I was supposed to. Oh...maybe that's why he told me class was only one hour last night when everyone else played soccer the second hour and the studio had been set up Wednesday night after class... They knew. Nobody else seemed at all surprised. They were in on it. Maybe. Maybe they were in on it. Were they?)

He said, "I know. Good. Every day is a test. You come here with a cold, test. You train with Bangi studio one month, test. You call me when you're late. Good. Test. Every day. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, here, home. Korean. All." I looked at him incredulously. I felt like I was in the some martial arts movie with the Master giving the student a smack-on-the-head over something simple. (I half expected him to tell me to go sweep while contemplating this-ness.) He handed me my passport and said, "I'll call the Kukkiwon Tuesday, they weren't open today. I wrote down your passport dates." He paused. "Are you OK?"

I was near tears. I've had a frustratingly bad week at work. I have been lied to left and right, been used and abused, and I've been very frustrated and discouraged that I may not be able to test until June because my first ARC was revoked. (As I said to someone else, "I know it shouldn't be about getting the black belt! If I were at home, it would take years longer, but dammit! I should get something good out of this country!")

And none of it mattered for two reasons.

Suddenly I felt like I could learn more philosophical aspects of the art from Master. I've always thought the language barrier would hinder us, indeed, "coaching" is one of the reasons I'm studying the language! But I realized it's never been about us, English, Korean. He's willing to teach me. It's about me (not) being ready for it. I could sit there, fluent in Korean, listening to him go on about the art part all day long. Who cares if the ear is there if the mind isn't?

And black belt, white belt, green belt, whatever, so long as I get to train. So long as I get to be involved in this this-ness, I'm happy.

I didn't know how to respond, so I just walked over to the calendar and mumbled something about me being here for six months. I managed to clear my tears while he told me good luck at Bangi (Fighting!) and when to come back. We briefly talked about ice skating, which turned into a mini-grammar lesson, and he sorted through my new set of taekwondo flash cards for me while Grin demonstrated the moves for me. (And I was right. Grin's been in charge of warm-ups lately since he's studying taekwondo at University.)

When we left, I told the boys I'd see them in February and walked partly to Crybaby Gold Medal Girl's home with her before going on my way. I wrote up some more flashcards on the way home and laughed to myself about being tricked...

"하지마!" Hajima! Don't do that!

Usually I try to be as unnoticeable as possible in Korea. This is a bit hard when your skin color makes you stick out like a giraffe in the Arctic, but what can you do?

Today all Blend-In Plans were foiled. Foiled, I say!

I was riding the subway to the studio. I was on the olive line for four stops. As soon as I got on, I noticed four or five, maybe even six, upper elementary to middle school aged boys sitting on the floor on the subway. They weren't in uniform, so they were probably upper elementary.

At any rate, it was rush hour, every seat on the car was taken, people were standing, and these boys were plopped on the floor for no obvious reason, taking up more space than necessary. Shortly they were running around, pushing into people (on purpose, which is different than the normal no-personal-space-pushing of Korea), shoving people around and being noisy. Everyone was glaring at them, but they didn't stop.

Meanwhile, someone was stretched out and sleeping (and probably drunk) across four or five seats. One and a half stops away from my stop, they started running up to Rip Van Winkle, whereupon they would hit him on the foot, butt, or head, and dash away laughing. They did it a half dozen times or so, when—

"하지마!" Hajima! Don't do that!, a sharp voice scolded.

A sharp voice scolded with an American accent.

A sharp voice scolded with my American accent.

And I said it louder than I intended to (blame the iPod).

Everyone was looking at me. They glanced at me, then glanced at each other, then went back to ignoring each other, as is normal on the subway. I glanced back, glanced at the boys again, and went back to ignoring everyone else, as is normal on the subway.

(Like I cared. I always appreciated it in Atlanta when someone said something to someone obnoxious on public transportation, as I was too afraid to say anything myself. The Koreans glaring at them told me that the behavior was indeed rude in Korea. Whether or not I should've said anything is a different manner, but I've seen enough public scoldings to feel that foreigner or not, I was not out of line. Besides, better to look at me for a reason rather than just stare at me for 10 stops like some random ajumma did on Christmas Day. (Oh me, oh my, wonder where the foreigner is going...))

Now, the fantastic part about all of this is that the boys, particularly the ringleader, were instantly shamed. Those children turned around so quickly I'm surprised their heads didn't snap off. No arguments, no eye rolling, just stiff bodies and pure silence.

As we were exiting, the man standing in front of me and slightly off to the side had a smile playing off the corners of his lips, but I couldn't decide if it was a real smile or one of those embarrassed Korean smiles. He angled himself toward me, caught my eye, and nodded slightly at me.

I guess it was a real smile.

Class was only an hour tonight. I did all of my forms 4 times each with Ghost and New Girl (who, in standard fashion, knows my name though I have no idea what her name is). During Sam (3) Jang, all three of us simultaneously forgot the last line of moves. We stared at each other. Two black belts and a red belt. We all started giggling. I was the first to remember the next move.

Due to a long complicated story, I may not be able to test for my dan grade this spring. It makes me want to cry, but heck, what can you do?

My Christmas holiday was interesting. A pipe broke in my house and I somehow managed to get hold of my landlord, say "I don't have water in my bathroom, are you coming?" (not exactly the truth, I could get water, it was just leaking) and get it fixed.

I baked Snickerdoodles and brought them to a friend's house for Christmas. Five of us spent Christmas Day together and four of us spent the next day together too. We. Ate. So. Much. Food. It was great fun and meant staying up way too late discussing all things under the sun.

Some of the sentences heard included: "We were all communists, but then Tiananmen Square happened. And we had to rethink communism. So most of us became nationalists...", "I can send some of my fetishist students to you...", "Did you just speak Korean?", "I know you're a sympathizer...", "That wine bottle holds 9 liters. You need a cart to drag it around.", and "You'd have to consider which market had been hit by AK-47s and decide if they'd get hit two days in a row..."

I was too exhausted to go to class last night, and besides, I didn't wake up until after noon and just couldn't get there on time. I called Master and managed to make myself understood in Korean. "I'm at a friend's house. We are talking a lot. I'm tired and I don't feel well. I can't come tonight." Two of the people at Christmas were Koreans and said my Korean was good. I think it's still abysmal for having been here nearly 6 months, but it was nice to hear.

Tonight I made it to class. I asked if we were playing soccer since Friday (soccer day) is a test this week and since he was pumping up a soccer ball. He asked if I wanted to play and Cocky, Grin's Brother, and Ghost all turned around, grinned, nodded at me and gave me "OK" hand signs. I said, "네!" He kept asking if I wanted to play and I got more and more excited, "Yes, I love it!" However...I think maybe "love" is only used for people here, based on the way he cracked up about it. And, in Korean fashion, I omitted the object, so it's very possible it sounded like "I love you" directed at him. Of course, everyone knew what I meant, but even so, I'll have to ask someone around using 사랑.

We did poomse (and I totally screwed up 8, which is what I'm testing on Friday!) and then played soccer. I ended up tripping over my own feet, fell backwards, landed on my hip, and slid across the floor a bit. When the older boys were playing, one of them fell. Another fell backwards over him, and another tripped over them. There was a heap of three of them on the ground. Those of us waiting were amused.

I (relearned) the word 구신 (ghost). I think I'll remember it this time since the student who said it grabbed his ear (Korean, 귀) then hit his (English) shin: gouishin. I also asked Master about 하나씩 (one by one, point by point, step by step) and how to say "week" (주).

I two interesting Studying Korean Realizations.

1) I asked Heidi about word-order when using day/date, time of the day, specific time. I couldn't figure out what order they went in. I've been told that often word order isn't super important in Korean since markers are used on everything. However, I'm very fresh as this and would prefer to use the most common word order. She told me "biggest to smallest." In other words, if you have "9:15," "morning," and "Thursday," you'd put them in the order of "Thursday, morning, 9:15." (They writes dates as year:month:date, too.)

Last night I had just put myself to sleep and I was trying to decide how I would ask Master what "week" was. (Yes, yes, I know, why couldn't I just look it up? Because I didn't want to.) I considered writing on the white board "day/일, week/___, month/월, year/년." Then, remembering what Heidi had said, I decided I'd start with year and work my way down.

Then I recalled a study described in Nisbett's book The Geography of Thought: How Asians and Westerners Think Differently...and Why. In this book he describes a study where Japanese and American students were shown brief clips of fish in a tank, with one focal fish. They made about an equal number of statements about the focal fish, but the first sentence Japanese started with was likely to me one about the environment ("It looked like a pond"), when the Americans were three times as likely to first talk about the focal fish ("there was a big fish"). Although the point of this study was to see if both groups could separate objects from their background/context, my thoughts wandered elsewhere...the Japanese (albeit not Korean) students started with the big picture whereas the Americans started with the details.

I literally sat up in bed.

When there are sales in Korea, the percentage off is written "80~50%!" or whatever. They start with the larger number and work towards the smaller, the opposite of how we write signs in the West. When Master tells me to do forms, he starts with 8. He'll usually say, "Do 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" and sometimes say, "Do 8, 1, 2..."

A Korean sentence is complete with a verb. Subjects and objects are very often implied. As infants, Korean children learn verbs (relationships) faster than Western children do, whereas Western children learn nouns (categories) faster than verbs. Western toddlers categorize objects sooner than Korean children do. The verb is the big thing; the subject and object (nouns) are details.

This "biggest to smallest" thing suddenly made complete sense to me and it all seemed interconnected.

Tonight, when I asked Master, we were sitting on the bench. I held up four fingers and said in Korean, "Year, month," I folded down the third finger, while leaving the others straight, "day." Right away he understood what I was asking. Master's a smart guy, but I wonder if he would've understood so quickly had I started the other way.

2) The word for week is 주. I decided that since "every day/daily/per day" is 매일, perhaps yearly, monthly, and weekly were 매년, 매월, and 매주. I was right. They are. I am very clever.

3) I skipped studying some mostly known words for a day or two and seemed to know them better. This was true for my Sogang vocab and my taekwondo vocab. I'm thinking maybe I've been over studying the words, not giving them enough time to sink into my memory. A few months ago I was bent on learning the body parts. I finally gave up on the last six and three days later, like magic, I knew them. I wasn't trying and suddenly they stuck. I didn't consider what that meant before. I am now.

It's Friday, so we played soccer in class. The first goal was scored by me with my back to the goal. I kicked the ball with my heel, pushing it behind me and somehow managed to get a clean goal. In the first five minutes I scored three goals. Sounds good, right?

We use these net goals that can be folded down. They falls sometimes, the supports on the side were busted early on, they flop around, and so forth. At one point I was the goalkeep (not "goalkeeper"). One kid nearly scored a goal on me. The ball was right up onto the goal; it was really a fight to keep the ball out of the goal. We ran into each other, I started to fall, my feet got caught in the net, I fell on the floor—hard—and smashed my head against the wall.

Falling on the wooden floors didn't hurt. Slamming my head into the wall did.

Poor kid, it was an accident and I was playing really hard, but he felt bad. I rolled over onto my side, hand over my head, and slowly stood up. This didn't hurt as much as the ball straight to my face, but I thought if I want to cry, I will this time.

When I stood up, Master was standing there and asked if was OK.

I could stand, I could see, I wasn't bleeding, I could move all of my body parts. "I'm OK, I'm OK."

He made me sit down and breath while he played for me (and got scored against). He felt my head and said, "Umm...bump?"

"Yes, bump."

The kid left at 9 and said, "Amanda, so sorry. You OK?" I know he doesn't understand a lot of English but I said, "It's OK. I'm OK. You play, good! I play, good! Accident." I smiled and patted him on the back. I really need to learn the phrase "it was an accident."

During the second half of class, I rejoined the game. Studious told me to kick and I said, "I am kicking."

"No. Kick more."

"I am kicking."

He whined, "Amanda, no yell at me. Go home."

I was really hurt. "Go home? No!"

Cocky jumped in right away. "Amanda! Joke! Joke!" Studious looked at me and said, "Amanda, joke."

Ahh. So. Misunderstanding humor goes both ways.

By pure, beautiful chance, my very next kick bounced off the wall and hit Studious in the head. I thought that was fabulous. He said, "OK, Amanda, no kick" and laughed. I was doubled over, I was laughing so hard. Master said, "Oh! Amanda! Good!" I couldn't've planned that better had I tried.