Amanda Takes Off...

"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?