Amanda Takes Off...

Photos are up in the photo gallery.

I went back to the Kukkiwon today to watch more of the tournament. I met Master's friend. It went fine, I think. We were both obviously nervous. Most of the questions I got were pretty standard—where are you from, where do you live, what do you do, how old are you, do you have a black belt, etc. The biggest problems were a) the noise level and hearing the questions, b) they'd start talking to me without any warning and I'd miss half the question, then ask for it again and then we'd all get flustered because I had to ask, and c) using huge words I don't know like "world championship."

I met a few of his friends, including a world champion (which championship I'm not sure), someone who does something or other with Thailand's national team, and one of today's competitors. I think I understood all of that correctly. Sometimes it throws me: I think I can't possibly be understanding them correctly (Thailand's national team?), but then we verify in English, and I am.

After a few hours, he went home. I watched a bit more, then sat down to eat some food. I was eating my gimbap on a bench outside when a nearby ajumma brought me food (bean sprout/fish/tofu soup and a huge bowl of rice) and told me to eat. Then she and the man with her kept telling me to sit down with their group of boys, so I got more practice speaking there. (I was afraid if I didn't sit down, I might get pinched again.) Yes, I was forced to picnic with people I'd never before seen in my life.

And people wonder why I like Korea so much...

And the sparring was awesome. Really neat to watch. Master's Friend was dragging me around, "come, cheer, cheer!" At one point I was cheering for this guy's guy against a Kyung Hee guy. Master graduated from Kyung Hee. Shhhhh, don't tell him I was cheering against his school!

I came home and watched my first Korean movie. It was called 돌려차기 (English title: Spinkick).

Good guy coaches a team of bad kids. Bad guy coaches a team of good kids. They have a tournament. One guess as to who wins. One guess as to whether or not this was an award-winning movie.

Class was good. Master wasn't there. He came in for a few minutes and specifically told me that he wouldn't be there because there was a meeting of Kwanjangnims. He reminded me that we don't have class tomorrow due to Samil Day. I asked him what Koreans do on Samil Day. He asked me if I remembered the 만세 meaning. I did. He said that the flag would be put out, people may sing the national anthem, and they would reflect upon what the day means. (I didn't know the word, but he pointed to his head and said that without Samil, Koreans wouldn't have their liberation day on August 15th). He didn't say it, but there will probably be protests downtown, too (many against FTA and the American military, even though Samil has to do with the Japanese).

Despite February usually being my worst month, I think this one was pretty good. Hong Kong, Lunar New Year soccer, The Black Belt Test, Kukkiwon Tournament, getting back to my studio...

I'm stuttering on the phone. "관장님...뭐 해요... 국-가-대-표-선-발-최—" Master, what is...guk-ga-dae-pyo-seon-bal-choe— I was talking about something I'd found on the Kukkiwon's Korean calendar.

Master gets excited, "국가대표선발최종대회? 선배 아세요?" Gukgadaepyoseonbalchoejongdaehoe? You know 'seonbae?'

No, I didn't, but he told me I would probably be interested in going. When I broke the word down with a dictionary, it came out:

국가 + 대표 + 선발 + 최종 + 대회

a nation + representation + forerunner + the last + tournament

So, I gleefully ran off to the Kukkiwon. This was my first visit to the Kukkiwon. It was smaller than I expected, yet there had to be more than 500 people there.

Watching the competition was interesting. I saw high school and college teams, but I'm not sure who else was there. It was neat to watch the methods and strategies of various teams. Not much "Amanda-style" going on there, a lot more "chance-making."

I think my sports photography is improving. However, I need a much better digital camera...

Class tonight was great for the most part, especially considering Master wasn't there for the majority of it. At the start of class he'd told me that a friend of his had watched the sparring today, and would be there tomorrow again. While I was doing sprints, we were having a conversation. Who was this friend? Had I met him? When? Where?

At the end of class, I went into Master's office. He said that he'd called his friend (선배, Master's senior) and I was to meet him tomorrow and watch the sparring with him (and possibly the middle school team he coaches). "You've met him, the middle-school coach."

Was he at the soccer game this month? No. Was he at the Suwon tournament? No. Was he at the October tournament? No. Where did we meet? In Master's office. Did he speak English very well? No. What did we say to each other? Hello.

I looked at Master and tried to say in Korean, "Master, I've met a lot of your Kwanjangnim friends. I don't know who this is." I asked where and when we'd meet and he called his friend. He didn't see my jaw drop when he said something about me.

He gave me the meeting place and time and said, "Amanda, very, very, very little English."

I gave the standard, "Little English, little Korean, together, OK!" response that Master and I use all the time.

"No, Amanda. Very, very, very, very, very little English. You, much Korean."

Master kept emphasizing "very little," so I realized that he was seriously warning me. I said, "Oh no, is he nervous?"

Master looked surprised, "Yes! He said, 'Oh, I don't speak English, I'm so nervous! I'm so nervous!' But I said, 'It's OK, Amanda speaks Korean very well.'"

I looked at him dryly, "I know. I heard."

"Oh! See! Very good Korean!"

Yes, Koreans often say this about anyone who knows anything beyond "hello." But Master is usually very honest with his Kwanjangnim friends about my level of Korean, so he's serious. I'd better be prepared to speak only Korean...

화이팅!

Thursday

This conversation took place after The Black Belt Test. No, I don't recall what "it" was. Entire conversation was in English.

Master: Amanda, do you have it?

Me: No, I don't have it.

Master: You don't have it?

Me: No.

Master: You don't have it?

Me, realizing the problem: Yes, I don't have it.

Master: Oh, OK!

(No, it didn't occur to me to simply answer in Korean "네, 없어요.")

Saturday

H is one of my language exchange partners.

H: Amanda, you wrote something really funny in your text message. "'뭐해요? 저녁식사를 요리하고 너를 써요...'"

Me: I didn't write that.

H: Yes, you did. Monday night.

Me: You must be thinking of some other American woman. I don't even know what those words mean.

H, showing me his handphone: Amanda...

Me: Oh! I do know those words! I was trying to say I was cooking dinner and writing to you. I was writing an email to you, practicing the future tense. 쓰다, to write, right?

H, after explaining why 저녁식사 was wrong: 쓰다 also means to use. You said, "I'm cooking dinner. And I'm using you!" He checks his body. I checked my body when I got the message! I was afraid you were eating me!

태권도: Encounters

On the way home from reporting my cheating employer to the Labor Board, my taxi happened to get behind TempStudio's van. At the light, we were next to the van. I was hitting the back of the window, trying to get TempMaster's attention.

The taxi driver, with good reason, looked at me. "관장님 알아요..." I know him. The taxi driver lowered the window and I waved until I caught TempMaster's eye. He saw me, I bowed, and he lowered his window, too. We greeted each other and I said, "목요일에 일단 심사했어요!" Thursday I had my belt test!

"Ah, Amanda! Good job! I'm happy for you!"

태권도: An Awesome Class

Tonight's class was awesome. We did some sprinting drills where I was running against Handphone Girl. Amazingly enough, I actually beat her. I stink at the ladder drills. We did some general target practice, which was interesting enough.

Mixed in with all of that, we practiced a bunch of demonstration kicks. We were doing triple and quadruple jumping front kicks (jump, right kick, left kick, right kick, [left kick,] land), triple jumping roundhouses (not alternating, three kicks on one side), flying side kicks, really high jumping front kicks (the tallest guy in class, Goalie, was standing on a chair and holding the target) and some sort of running jumping triple kicking thing...

Let's just say...I need practice. A lot of the kicks were being practiced by running across the studio. Jumping front kicks are my favorite kick, but I kept missing the target because my running timing was off. Finally I yelled, "No! 다시!" I stepped back, stood there and did the jumps. I wasn't going to let my off-beat running ruin my favorite kick.

At one point I was staring at the ceiling. Beams cut the ceiling into thirds. I kept looking. Master asked what was wrong. I managed to get him to understand that one part was lower than the others. He looked and agreed and said I was the only person to ever notice that. I only noticed because my jumping front kicks seemed higher in that section of the room!

Master was talking about one of the demonstration teams and how they do a "yuk ap." He pulled me aside to make sure I understood that it was five front kicks (alternating legs) followed by a punch ("yuk" is six). He was very animated when he was describing it. I haven't seen any demonstration teams, but I certainly intend to do so before I leave.

I know a lot of people deride the flashiness of such kicks, and how they're "not useful," but I think there's a place for them. It's not about using them in a fight, it's about practicing agility and speed and frankly, they're fun!

My feet hurt from the hard landings, my muscles are sore, and man, do I feel good!

After class, Master asked us to stay 20 minutes to help fold and stuff new fliers. He told me to change, so I knew he was dismissing me because my commute is long, but after changing, I sat back down and helped. It turned into an hour and he asked if I was OK. I said, "I have time." Due to my age, gender, and foreignness, I've never had to run errands, clean, or do any of the other minor housekeeping matters that are part of being a student. That studio is my home; I don't mind sticking around to stuff envelopes. Besides, I learned the word for envelope: 봉투. And Master sent one of the fliers home with me to practice my Korean with.

While we were working, I realized (again) that I have a really hard time paying any attention to Korean if I can't see the speaker. I'm exaggerating slightly, as I can understand, but it's just so much more work! I don't know why that is. It's not like I'm lip-reading! I will really feel like I've gotten somewhere with the language when I don't have to be staring directly at someone to understand them.

태권도: Mistakes in the Belt Test

As I was walking down the street on the way home, Master came out of his apartment and wished me a good night. Since nobody else was around, I asked him about The Black Belt Test.

"관장님...목요일...팔장 실수했어요?" Master...Thursday...Did I make a mistake on Pal Jang?

"아니요." No.

"그래요? 실수 없어요?" Really? No mistakes?

Master put two fingers to his eyes, "없어요. I watch, Amanda."

I shook my head and started acting the place in the form I was asking about, "하지만, 외산틀막기...하나...OK, 둘...삼번 사람 봤어요..." But wesanteuelmakki...block one...OK, block two...I was watching Number Three...

Master shook his head and made his one-handed X-means-no symbol, "Number Three, many mistakes. You, none." I must have looked doubtful. "Amanda, I watch. 실수 없어요. Chil Jang, Pal Jang, OK!"

Well. It's done. It's over!

To save downloading time, the photo album can be found in the Black Belt Test album. I really do hope you'll check out the photos, though!

This is a long post. But how many times will I have tested for my first degree black belt in a foreign country? Exactly...

Before

I got six hours of sleep last night, which is two more than I expected to get. I woke up and found a message from one of my students' mom on my handphone, wishing me luck. I talked to my friend Caro on the phone, then called my dad and chatted with him a bit. I ate a light breakfast, and set off for the studio.

I mentally ran through the forms before I realized that I was so nervous I needed to stop.

I got to the studio 20 minutes early, arriving at the same time as a kid who doesn't know me. I changed while a few other boys arrived. When I came out of the changing room, one of the little kids stared at me and asked me something in Korean. I heard "Kukkiwon," so I said, "Yes, I'm testing," and pointed to my name on the board.

"야! 아만다! 아만다! 일 단!" he yelled to the other kids. Hey! Amanda! Amanda! She's il dan!

Later, as a large group, Master told them who I was. He introduced me as their 누나, their big sister. While I understand that is how relationships work in Korea, it made me laugh to think of them thinking of my as their big foreign sister. It's one thing for Ghost and Crybaby Gold Medal Girl and everyone else from my class to think of me that way, but for strangers?

These kids weren't nervous. No practicing forms, nope, soccer!

Master came up to the studio and I asked where everyone else was. He explained that these kids' parents worked, so he was taking them, but everyone else was going to the testing site with their parents. I joked, "My mom is working, too. But now," I looked at my watch, "she's sleeping."

We got to the testing site, found everyone else, and stood outside doing our forms. As we went outside, I was greeted by someone. I shook his hand using both hands and when he started talking I realized it was Master's father. I am so glad I didn't say "nice to meet you" since we've already met! He said something that I took to mean, "So, today's the day, congratulations."

I said, "Yes, today. I am nervous!" I wish I had thought to use the -sumnida form, but I'm sure he forgives me for using the -yo form.

Outside I was stared at. No shock since I was the only adult with our studio. I caught sight of myself in a mirror and had to smile. It looked pretty funny, 3 rows of 4 kids and then a fourth row of...me. Master made us keep our jackets on, which made me very glad that I had worn my Kappa training suit jacket because it was pretty lightweight. It was a little before 1 pm and about 50 F (10 C) out. After doing each form twice and some of them more than twice, I was hot.

Master's Brother's studio showed up, including the Obnoxious Girl. They joined us to practice and she started talking. I ignored her, which ticked her off, if I read the tone of her voice correctly. When we started to head into the building she started talking. I said in Korean, "You always have a loud voice. Why? Why? Today I'm nervous. Therefore, we are not talking today."

She left me alone after that.

Opening Ceremony

We went inside, sat down, then were told to run down to the floor. I just followed the kids and we were all lined up for the opening ceremony. Unfortunately I have no photos of this ceremony, though it was similar to the one I saw in October's tourney. I counted a few lines. Sixteen to eighteen kids per line, seventeen lines total. I was, as I had expected, the only foreigner there. I was also, I estimated, the oldest person there by several years. I heard calls of "미국! 미국!" from not only the children but the spectators, too. And what if I weren't American, folks?

We did some warm ups, then did forms 8 through 4 in backwards order. I was listening hard to the official, hoping I could understand him and I mostly did, except for one at-attention military like stance that we don't use in our studio. I picked up on that pretty quickly, though. Even though I was at the end of a row, and even though we kept regrouping, holding our arms out in front of us and to the side to check for spacing, I had to shorten almost every kick because I was next to small children and I was in danger of hitting them on the head. In fact, the kid behind me managed to punch my in the back when we were doing the return on Yuk Jang. I guess I was stepping back into a low block with too long of a stride for this poor kid to keep up.

When we did the forms with count, you could tell different studios because during some counts, people would do more or less moves than each other. Without count was amusing because we all ended at different times and you heard a series of kiyaps. The officials even smiled at that.

Several officials were introduced, bow, bow, bow (one of them Master's father), a speech was giving using the -sumnida form. I understood "test...taekwondo...Kukkiwon...Gwangmyeong...Korea," and so on. The national anthem played. When we bow in or out to the flag (less common at my studio, more common at Temp Studio), we put our hand over our hearts. I have no problem doing this, even though it's the Korean flag. Nobody has ever questioned me about this (the TempStudio had both a Korean flag and American flag up, so I never worried about it there). However, since this meant holding my hand over my heart for the entire length of 애국가, I decided that it would probably be more polite to simply stand at attention respectfully. Unlike Zoe's experience, nobody sang.

Then we were dismissed or something. I'm honestly not sure what was going on since some of the students were leaving, some were starting to sit down, and some were standing around as confused looking as me. I looked up to where our group was and Tall New Guy (who was there helping) caught my eye and waved to me to leave the floor.

Poome Grades First and the Testing Layout

We sat back down, Master made sure Tall New Guy had told me to wear my jacket while I was waiting. I was told all of the poome (junior) tests would go first, then dan tests. I asked Master how many people were there, and said about two hundred first poome testers, but he didn't know about the rest of the tests.

(Photos of this setup can be seen in the album.)

Kids were called out to the hall, then lined up by number. Each one checked in at a desk, where glasses were removed.

Then the students ran to the front of the gym, where more waiting was done. Eventually 18 students at a time were tested. They were given two forms to do in front of two judges. Yes, Kukkiwon regulations call for an odd number of judges. No, two is not an odd number.

They then exited to the right and went to do freesparring in front of two judges, each pair getting one referee. Nobody was wearing protective gear. Face each other, turn and bow into the judges, face each other, bow, spar. End sparring, bow, face judges, bow, face each other, shake hands.

That was it, that was testing.

Fourteen Dan Tests Total

After an hour or so, all dan grades were called down. Master gave me the copies of my passport (and I had my original with me) and told me that he'd talked to the officials and I was to give them the copies when I signed in. He said everything was fine.

I saw two other dan testers (Number 2 and Number 3) practicing, but I didn't. I figured I either knew it or didn't, and any last minute practice was bound to make me more nervous.

I sat with Master. "Master, me, age many have." I was trying to say, "I'm the oldest person here." He understood. "You, Amanda, number one!" They called us inside. I looked at him. "화이팅, Amanda!"

Once we were waiting to register, I realized that only five people were testing for dan rank. Number 1 was a woman a full head shorter than me. She saw me and suddenly looked very afraid. I figured she figured we'd be put together for testing. One person was testing for second dan, and eight people were testing for third dan (several from Master's Brother's studio). Fourteen people over the age of 15 testing. Although Number 3 had facial hair, I am positive I was the oldest person testing.

I stepped up to register, gave the official my paperwork with two hands. They made me remove my glasses. I was too nervous to say anything. A woman lifted my number, saw the Kyung Hee University patch on my dobok, got a razor, and cut it off. What? She waved for me to go somewhere.

I found my tongue. "못 보여—여—여요!" I finally spit it out. I held my hand a foot in front of my face and used my incorrect but cute "soft and squashy" word, "만낭만낭해요!" (I was hoping that saying something so silly sounding would work to my benefit. There are reasons to purposefully be incorrect in a foreign language.)

"아! 안경!" They let me take my glasses. Thank goodness.

More waited commenced. I jiggled my feet to keep them from falling asleep. Master leaned over the railing and coached me in our blended Konglish language. Snap. Balance. Slow. Sparring, Amanda-style.

Pal Jang and Chil Jang, 시작!

The five of us were called up and the official, who had only been calling out numbers with a hand signal suddenly started acting out his commands. While this was kind, the only words he used were the commands 차렷 (attention), 준미 (ready stance), 경래 (bow), 시작 (start), and 바로 (back to ready stance). Some readers probably know those as cha ryeot, jun bi, kyeong rye, shi jak, and ba ro. We used those words in my American studios. You'd think they'd expect me to know them by now. But still, it was kind of him to act them out for me.

We were called to do Chil Jang first, which was ironic since last night I told Master I hoped they'd call Chil Jang. Then we were called to do Pal Jang. This is where I think I may have messed up. Doing the second wesanteulmakki (one arm up, one arm in low block), I suddenly felt like I was screwing something up. But I was looking at a guy who was still doing the first one, so I wasn't sure. Essentially, he was doing the mirror image of me. I was not sure if I had truly made a mistake or if my perception was screwy. I decided that rather than worry about it, which I knew would throw me off, I should just keep going on the form. It felt normal when I was doing it. Afterwards, I got no word from Master on whether or not I'd screwed up.

Fact of the matter is, the Kukkiwon averages the scores over both forms. You're graded on "Eye Control, Concentration of Spirit, Speed Control, Strength Control, Flexibility, Balance, and Variety in Techniques." (I really don't understand the last one. A form is a set pattern. What are you supposed to do to introduce variety to it?) My 기합 (ki yap(s), "concentration of spirit") were loud, my uniform snapped, I didn't rush or lose my balance, so I didn't fret over whether or not I'd made a mistake.

Freesparring

For freesparring, I was told to take off my glasses.

We were told to arrange ourselves for freesparring. Although I was closer in weight and height to the men, I knew I'd be paired with the other woman. She looked at me, terrified, stood next to me, then whined to someone (her Kwanjangnim, I think) who told her she was stuck with me. She kept whimpering. Seriously, whimpering! I couldn't help it, I leaned over and said, "화이팅!"

We sparred without gear. Yes, Kukkiwon regulations call for gear, no we weren't told no-contact. We both seemed to naturally keep it light contact. I was not sparring in front of Master's Brother, who was one of the referees. I just took Master's advice and tried to get as many kicks in as possible. I did several jumping front kicks, a few back kicks, too. She got some kicks in, but I didn't let it rattle me like it usually does. I just kept going.

Somewhere, somehow, I pulled off a double jumping roundhouse kick, the first kick mid-level, the second one face level. She was so short, it really was at face level.

Of course I would randomly pull out a kick I've never once done in freesparring practice for my black belt test. The single kick that scares the living daylights out of me. Oh yeah, that's the ticket.

After my double jumping roundhouse, I heard "그만!" Sparring was over.

A Medal? Huh?

I ran to get my glasses and heard, "Amanda! Amanda!" I couldn't see, so I had no idea who was talking to me. I can multitask in English. I can look elsewhere, converse with my eyes closed, whatever, but in Korean, I need to know who's talking to me. I figured I was getting directed elsewhere. "안경 없어요!" I called out. I don't have my glasses!

Proving that I really was blind, I tried looking for my glasses on the wrong bench. An official helped me and pointed to the judges' table. "Go," he said.

I walked over to the table. Extra people were standing there. One of the judges looked at me and said in English, "You are good. Nice job. We have reward for you."

I bowed and thanked them. They copied down my name, a bunch of people shook my hand. The English-speaking official congratulated me again and told me to study hard for my second, third, and fourth dan tests.

They told me to go to another table at the front of the room. I ran to that table and almost all of the bigwigs were there. I gave them my slip of paper, got another round of congratulations in Korean and English and some more "study hard for second, third, fourth dan" comments. The official asked me (in Korean) if I wanted my name in English or Hangul. "한글 촣아해요." I like Hangul. He grinned and started writing my name on the 표창장 (certificate). Another bigwig showed up and said something to the writer about my name. He said, "She wanted it in Hangul" and the questioning official smiled at me.

Someone asked me who my Master was and I suddenly blanked. I said, "I study at Tongil." He asked his name. I could remember the three parts, and part one, but not the order of his name. The last thing I wanted to do was screw it up. Tall New Guy was nearby said I said, "[Tall New Guy!] What's Kwanjangnim's name?" Poor Tall New Guy, me yelling at him in the same -yo form I was using with these officials because I have very little idea how to use the -sumnida form. He ran over, bowed to everyone, told them Master's name.

"Oh, good Kwanjangnim," the man said. In retrospect, I'm not sure if he meant Oh, I know him, he's good or if he meant Good Kwanjangnim because your sparring was good.

I bowed, "Yes, he's nice," I said in Korean.

They told me to go on stage. Tall New Guy came up to take photos. I bowed in and I stood there while the certificate was read out loud. I bowed and received the certificate with both hands, then bowed again while the medal was hung around my neck. I had to turn and bow to the now nearly-empty room. Since so many studios only had poome tests, and since a lot of mothers and grandmothers had brought their students, most people were gone.

I bowed to the officials again and Tall New Guy caught a photo of me trying to figure out if I was supposed to leave. There's a photo of my "Confused Waygook" look in the album. Check it out, I sport it often.

I have to wonder how much of the sparring award was given to me because of the novelty of being an old (relatively speaking) foreign female testing in Korea. But I'm not going to dwell on that. Hell, when it mattered, I pulled out a double jumping roundhouse kick! I don't know where it came from, but it was there!

When I got back to the waiting group, Master congratulated me, "Amanda-style. Good!" Some parents congratulated me. Both studios went outside to get more photos. Master's brother gave me another "study hard" comment. (Michael told me that coming from people of higher ranks than me, it means something like, "good job, keep it up.")

Finally, we went back to the studio. It was just past 3 pm. Total test was less than 2 hours from start-to-finish.

The following may sound ridiculous to people who are not familiar with Korean culture, but I try to be as honest as I can about Korean culture and practicing taekwondo in Korea, so here it is: this event is why I am sure that I could not have failed, despite one possible mistake in the form.

Korea is very much a face-saving culture. Absolutely nobody would save face if two judges failed me on poomse when two more judges gave me an award for sparring. Add to that the fact that Master's Brother is a referee and Master's father is well-known—at least in this city's taekwondo network. A dash of foreigner-female novelty to the mix...and well, right or wrong, I just don't think it's possible that I could have failed.

(Now that I've written that, watch Master call me in to have a rather "uncomfortable" conversation on Monday... ^^ Seriously, I won't find out the official results for a couple of weeks.)

Eating and 장미란

Back at the studio, Master asked if I was hungry. He told me to stick around for some sweet and sour pork. Tall New Guy and I played with Master's kids while I watched Master struggle to order food over the phone. Ha! So it's not just me who gets "what, try again..." seventeen times!

We sat down to eat. Somehow I ended up with the single mismatched plate, and I started laughing. Master asked why I was laughing. It was the same blue flower pattern I had grown up with. I said, "This, my mom! My home in America!" He flipped the dish over. "Oh! Amanda! Look!" Made in the USA.

We chowed down on sweet and sour pork, jajangmyeon, some rice dish very similar to jajangmyeon, fried mandu and kimchi. Master's son kept feeding Tall New Guy onion slices and a good time was had by all. After dinner was mostly finished, Cocky came down (he had been teaching the 3 pm class) and Master ordered another huge bowl of jajangmyeon for him. Poor guy, he looked sick having to eat all of that food. Although it's not common to speak very much while you're dining, we did chat a bit.

Master's wife complimented my mad chopstick skills.

I found out the patches were sliced off because they were against regulation.

I found out that the sparring award was not given out once per testing group, like I thought it might be. It was given out randomly, when the judges liked what they saw. I was the only Tongil person to get one, and one person from Master's Brother's studio received one as well.

Master and I joked about our Konglish. He did say, seriously, that when I first came to the studio, I knew three phrases (hello, thank you, good bye) and now I speak a lot of Korean and understand even more. That was nice to hear. Coming from him, it means something.

Jointly, we retold the story of my ice hockey/soccer confusion and I was teased, once again, about my love for soccer.

Cocky and Tall New Guy asked if I remembered their English names, Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp. They asked if I had a Korean name and started debating my Korean name. You know, names like "English letter," and "Girl." Finally they said 미란, Mi Ran ("i" like the "ee" in "bee" and "a" like the one in "father"). I looked it up and it was "inflammation; ulceration; fester; erosion; decomposition." So I slugged Tall New Guy (who was sitting closest to me) on the arm.

"아만다! 아야! 왜?" Amanda! Ow! Why?

I showed him the definition per my handphone and Master laughed. "No, no, Amanda, 장미란 weight, weight—" he lifted his arms above his head.

"Ah, weight lifter."

"Yes, she's very good, number one! He says, you strong."

I looked at Tall New Guy, who was still rubbing his arm, "Amanda, spar? Spar? We go now?"

I apologized. He kept threatening to spar me.

Master joked that his son was Superman and his daughter Wonder Woman. "Master, what's 'Jeolla Man!'?" I cheered it like my kids say it. Tall New Guy responded by making Batman eyes. No, 절라맨 is not Batman.

After a dessert of some really delicious fruit (Asian pears, oranges, special oranges from Jeolla, apples) and some iced coffee, I headed out.

The day has come. The day has gone.

통일 화이팅!

I am trying not to freak out over the fact that Master needed to copy my passport to fax it to them tomorrow when I told him they needed proof 15 days in advance. Oh well, if the paperwork doesn't go through, I'll just do it again.

I'm also trying not to freak out over the fact that my number, as Master showed me tonight, is four. Dan tests (adults) and poome tests (kids) are split apart. So why am I freaking out? Well, the number order could mean nothing. Or, it could mean that I'm one of the first to test which is good because I get it out of the way but bad because I won't get to watch anyone else. Or, it could mean that I'm one of the last to test, which is good because I get to watch everyone else but bad because it means extra time to be nervous.

Above that, the word used for "four" in this case is the Chinese one, sa. Sa is considered unlucky because it sounds like the same word for death. It's common to find "F" in place of "4" on public building elevators. (This superstition is less and less common amongst younger Koreans, though.)

We had this conversation in English.

"Master. Sa? Sa?" I faked slitting my throat.

He laughed, "Amanda, it's OK."

"Master, fax OK?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Are you positive?"

He paused. "Yes."

"Do you know what 'positive' means?" I was obviously teasing him.

"Um..." He thought. "No."

"What about 'certain?'"

"No, I don't know," he said with a big grin. "But yes, yes. Fax, OK!"

I looked up "certain" in my digital dictionary and showed it to him.

"Yes! Certain, OK!"

OK! 화이팅!