Amanda Takes Off...

All photos were taken today. The moon caught my eye because of the ways the clouds were. A large group of us were standing at COEX, gaping. Good Man was a good sport and let me use his fist and a wall to form a tripod. The dress was custom made in Vietnam.

Good Man in a Suit

Good Man, COEX, Moon

Moon Over COEX

Moon Detail

Vietnam Dress Detail

Dress, Vietnam

Choco Cheese

Good Man got his name from Master. I guess "He drinks soju" is Reason #1 that he's a good man.

Reason #789
He Does My Dishes (and Enjoys It)

Met Good Man after work. We were on the bus, one stop from my house and heard a giant "CRUNCH!" and the ajummas all gasped. The bus had hit a car and made it spin out. I don't think anyone was injured.

Good Man and I met to watch the full lunar eclipse, but it was too cloudy to see anything. Instead we had dinner near my place. I live near a very busy section of the city, and there are several different fountains near my house. I want to join these kids every time I see them.

The three kids in the first picture were having such a blast. They'd stand near the fountain until the water came out, then run away screaming and slowly creep back.

Playing in a Fountain

Playing in a Fountain

After dinner we wandered around just a bit. I took photos by holding the camera on my shoulder casually and shot away without a flash. Hence this photo is blurry and tilted. But I love all the colors.

This fruit market is across from my apartment building. They change the price for older fruit so I know which fruit will go bad the fastest. The people are friendly and the fruit is generally quite good.

Fruit Market

We grabbed some ice cream from the mini-supermarket near the fruit market.

Good Man got a 돼지바 (Pig Bar). Pig Bars are these amazingly delicious ice cream bars that are also amazingly fattening. Michael loves them. Last year, when we went to The Jeollas, Michael, Leslie and I were eating Pig Bars with every meal. When Michael and Good Man met, we somehow got on the topic of 돼지바s and a great day being a "three 돼지바 day."

돼지바 Deliciousness

"돼지바 Has a Special Factor."

"돼지바 has a special factor," Good Man said while I was shooting this picture.

"What's that?"

"The outside is crunchy. And the inside is crappy."

I burst out laughing. "Crappy?"

"Yeah, it's crappy, so it tastes really good. It's bad for you, but so crappy it's good."

I was still laughing. I thought about how we polished off a huge bag of marshmallows before I went to Vietnam. "You mean like marshmallows?"

"Yes, exactly. If you Google 돼지바, you will see. Lots of Koreans think it's crappy. That's why it's so good."

Good Man took the camera and got a number of shots of me. Since I had to ask three times to post the above photo, I decided that turnabout was fair play.

Ice Cream Goodness

Good Man finally had to leave. I was standing 25 feet away when I took this picture and unfortunately the camera auto-focussed on his chest (now cropped out) instead of his face. It was dark and I didn't notice the Korean-V-Thing.

I Am Korean

[As a side note: I have no idea why, when I am in flash mode, my camera leaves a round shadow at the edge of the picture. I need to figure out how to fix that because it's driving me nuts. Any ideas what it is and how to fix it?]

"I want to see a picture of your family," I say to Good Man over Lotteria food.

"I have one. It's in my purse."

I shake my head.

"My wallet."

I shake my head.

He thinks. "My bag?"

"Yep."

He can be forgiven. They call men's underwear "panties" in Korean.

Lest you think I'm picking on Good Man, he had to correct me when I said I had presents that I'd brought from Vietnam the Person. Who is Vietnam the Person? I don't know, but that's what I was saying. "I have gifts from Vietnam the Person!" He corrected it to the point that the only original words of mine were "gift" and "Vietnam."

I was late to taekwondo and gave Master's Wife the gifts then headed up to the studio. Before I could finish closing the door, Master's Daughter was running behind the desk, "Open Amanda's presents! What did she bring?"

Class was good. At one point we were on the floor on our backs, head to head with another student. We were supposed to raise our arms above our heads, flat on the floor and grab their elbows, linking our arms together for support.

Master said to one of the kids "Elbow! Elbow! You don't know Korean?"

I caught it without having to think about what he had said and burst out laughing because I did, indeed understand him. He grinned and switched to English. "Elbow? Elbow?"

When I went downstairs after class to talk to Master, his daughter was prancing about the house in her underwear and the conical hat I got for her (also got one for her brother, and brought back some food and tea for the parents).

"Master, tomorrow I won't come to class. There's a moon...moon, sun, moon, Earth thing tomorrow. You know?" His confused look told me no, so I got out my dictionary, "Lunar eclipse tomorrow. And Good Man and I are watching it together."

Master made "oooooh, woooooh" romantic sounds at me, which just caused me to blush terribly.

Despite people sometimes thinking there must be some sort of romantic undertones to our relationship, there never have been any and I've never heard him make romantic sounds, not even when he teases the boys. It surprised the heck out of me.

* * *

"I will never become an ajumma if you never become an ajosshi."

Good Man looks at me, "What do you mean?" Though ajumma and ajosshi lit. mean "aunt" and "uncle," they are terms of respect used to describe middle-aged women and men. And the middle-aged women are often called The Third Sex by Korean teens because if their...look.

"If you don't get pants that belt exactly at your waistline and do a comb over to hide a balding head, I will not perm my hair and wear visors." He laughs at me and I go on. "But if you start acting like an ajosshi and do that spitting thing—kkkkcccrrrrrakkkkk SPIT!—I will start acting like an ajumma."

He laughs and I yell, "사과 5개 2천원!" Five apples, two thousand won! He breaks into giggles and I wave my hands around like the ajummas do at the subway stations. "I will sit at the subway station. 사과 5개 2천원! 사과 5개 2천원!"

He just keeps laughing. Every time he tries to get a word in, I start yelling about apples.

"사과 5개 2천원!"

My flight left at 3:30 am instead of 00:45 am. (I told Good Man this through GoogleChat, much to the annoyance of the Vietnam Airlines woman who didn't want me to use the computer in the business lounge. Hey, your airline delayed my flight by nearly 3 hours and there are no phone booths inside the terminal. Let me use the computer.)

I had a great time in Vietnam (and am sorting through 500 pictures to make an album) but I was ready to get back to my own bed, my own subway system, and my own money. (By the way, I accidentally-illegally removed Vietnamese dong from the country. There was no currency exchange open.)

Good Man was waiting at the bus stop for me, which is equal to getting picked up in a car when a) Good Man doesn't have a car or license, b) it's 70 mins by subway from his house to mine and c) it's 55 mins from the airport to my house by airport "limo" (bus).

I felt my face change when I saw him; as soon as he saw me, I knew what I looked like. (So nice, compared to how I felt the last couple times I've come home to boyfriends from trips abroad!)

We spent the day together, eating, watching Californication and Weeds. I gave him his gifts and unpacked just a bit.

I am not ready to go back to work tomorrow, especially as there are no students for several days and I will just be sitting there while the Korean teachers get to sit...not there. I was also not ready for Good Man to leave.

"Let's call in sick all week! 'Oh, sorry, boss, I am very sick!'" He laughed. "Tell them you ran off to the circus! Forget Cirque du Soleil, Cirque de Amanda! Let's go!"

He just laughed at me.

But he wants to call in sick, too. I can tell. 똑똑한 사람이야...

I hate buying gifts for people in foreign countries. I hate bargaining. I hate all of it and appreciate my friends who don't get upset with me when I don't come back with something for them.

Actual conversation, Hanoi, about 11:30.

Me: I need a t-shirt for my boyfriend.

Shopkeeper, rummaging for a very big shirt: OK, American, very big man.

Me: No, he's not Ameri—

Shopkeeper, eyes me as she smiles slowly: Oh! Boyfriend black man? Very very big.

Me: No, he's Korean, I need it my size.

Shopkeeper, stares at me: I thought boyfriend.

Me, wondering why I had to say "boyfriend": Yes. Korean. Asian.

Shopkeeper: Korean but America? In America? Eat like American?

Me: No. I live in Korea. My boyfriend is Korean— Shopkeeper tries to talk over me and I ignore her. He is my size. If it fits me, it will fit him.

I finally got the damn shirt.

* * *

Conversation over breakfast.

Random Man: So, what are you doing today?

Me: Buying gifts. I have a flight tonight/tomorrow at 12:45 am. I love traveling, but the last few days always suck. I'm ready to be in my own bed, on my own subway system, using my own money...

Random Man: Speaking English.

Me, thoroughly confused: What? I am speaking English.

Random Man: No, at home.

Me: Ah! No, I live in South Korea.

Random Man, laughs: Ah, no wonder you were confused. Damn, that's cool, how long you been there?

Junks in Halong Bay

Goods for Sale in Halong Bay

I am sick of travel talk.

Last night a very blonde woman was spouting off on the couch in the common area of my hostel about how bad kimchi smells when it's cooked. She was talking like she was an expert, even though she'd said she'd never eaten it.

I had to stop her.

"Cooked? You mean when it's being made?"

She gave me a snotty look. "No. When it's cooking, when they cook the stuff to make kimchi."

"Kimchi isn't cooked."

"I have a Korean friend."

Wow! Did she want an award for befriending a Yellow Person? I smiled and said, "Hanguk namchin isseoyo. Hangukae salayo." She stared at me. "I have a Korean boyfriend. I live in Korea. Kimchi is not cooked. It is sometimes grilled or added into rice dishes that are cooked, but you don't cook anything to make kimchi."

"Oh."

* * *

This morning, at breakfast, a man asked me where I was from. "The States, but I live in South Korea. I'm 26, I'm a teacher, I'm only here for a week, yes I'm alone, yes I have a boyfriend, yes I am loyal to him."

He burst out laughing.

"Sorry, sick of travel talk. Let's skip to something else."

"Uh...OK, what sort of music do you like?"

"U2."

* * *

I met two girls, Ashley and Elicia, a few days ago. Both are solo traveling. Ashley and I went to Halong Bay together, where she graciously let me borrow her digital camera since mine is obviously sending out death rattles.

Of course, in good Travel Friends fashion, while in Halong Bay, Ashley and I opened up fairly quickly about personal things. Something about traveling makes people open their mouths in ways they otherwise wouldn't.

We chatted quite a bit about relationships, past ones. Relaxing on the top deck of our junk was so peaceful. Looking out at the jade green sea. Seeing stars for the first time in over a year! Lost in thought.

I reflected on past relationships, wondered what in the world I was thinking at the time. I remember wanting to study abroad and not doing it because my now-long-gone-ex didn't want me to. I had a boyfriend who only want to see me on his time table. Another I constantly questioned—with good reason, as I later found out. Why did I do things that made my gut twist, or flip, or knot at the time? Why did I try to convince myself that it was what I wanted? Why did I second-guess myself when I really knew?

I was thinking a lot about the Current State of Affairs and My Current Level of Fun and Happiness.

The period before I met Good Man was the longest I'd been single (and also not really dating anyone even casually) in ten years. I had lived alone in the States, but getting fired, getting evicted, living alone in a foreign country...

These things lead to a dichotomous state. It made me both more independent (getting through language barriers) and more trusting and dependent (hello, crying on Master's shoulder, or living on my friends' couch for 6 weeks).

It also made me more flexible (trying to understand Korean culture) but also a bit more stubborn in that I'm less willing to put up with annoying behavior from other people, especially if the end result is that I'm not having fun.

I think being single was a Very Good Thing.

* * *

This morning Ashley, Elicia and I woke up at 5:45 to head over to the nearby lake, Hoan Kiem. It was very neat to get up so early, so see the city quiet, but waking up.

Vietnamese people get up very early, and it seemed like everyone was at the lake. Old people, middle aged people, young people, children. They were walking around the lake, doing tai chi solo and in small groups, playing badminton, fishing, weight lifting, doing aerobics in groups (sometimes of 60 or more!). We saw two small dogs, tied to each other with a shoelace string, lapping the lake without an owner! Women were selling things from baskets hanging off of wooden poles. People were praying at the temple.

It was peaceful and relaxing to see how Vietnam wakes up.

Hoan Kiem Lake, 6:30 am

As we were walking, I said, "Wow, there are some hot Vietnamese men."

My companions gave me looks that indicated they didn't agree with me. "Um..."

"Seriously. I had to live in Korea for a bit before I tuned my eye to Korean men. I bet if I lived here, I'd find even more hot men."

They still didn't agree, but a few moments later, we passed some men who were lifting weights. One of them gestured that we could try it. We declined and walked on. I looked at them. "See?"

* * *

I went to the Museum of Ethnology today. It was mostly about the indigenous people of Vietnam, but I was more interested in the display they had about life under the coupon-distribution system.

They showed a house for a family of seven...it was only slightly bigger than my current apartment.

The exhibit talked about how important a bicycle was to someone, about a woman who bought left over elastic threads and then knit a sweater with them, about taking the alloted rice home and discovering it wasn't moldy and being happy for a whole day.

It was fascinating.

I was chatting online later with Good Man. I wanted to know what he wanted from Vietnam.

Good Man: What's a cool thing in Vietnam?

Me: Communism.

Good Man: Haha.

Me: You think I'm kidding. Communism keeps this country poor and thus cheap to travel in.

Good Man: I rather choose social liberalism.

Me: Socialism is expensive.

Ashley (my newfound traveling partner) and I were kyaking in Halong Bay. Three Korean men were on our tour and I wanted to say something to them.

I yelled in Korean, "Where should we go?"

The men pointed. Then stared at me. They asked in Korean, "Are you Korean?"

I laughed and shook my head. Again, in Korean, "No, I am a foreigner."

So this morning I woke up late (7:30 instead of 6:45) and had a light breakfast. I then headed over to Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum, Museum, and Home.

I took a xe om (motorcycle taxi) over there. Walk ten feet in Hanoi, especially in the Old Quarter where I am staying, and you'll hear "Moto bi...cyclo? Moto bi...cyclo?" from tauts. I knew I didn't want to walk there in the heat (though it is walkable). So I stopped at the first person, pointed to my map, settled on a price (15,000 dong), and climbed on his motor bike.

Traffic in Hanoi is scary. To cross the street, you pray and then walk slowly across, letting all of the motorbikes, cars (few), taxis (few), bicycles and cyclo drivers rush around you.

Motorbikes Ready To Go

So there I was on the xe om, rushing through the streets, zigging, zooming, sucking in pollution, wind blowing through my hair. We passed six trucks full of Vietnamese military men. The army, the navy, all of the branches. Truck after truck of uniformed men.

I thought, "This is what I always wanted." When I was a teenager, this is what I dreamed of. Well, not zigging through Hanoi on the back of a motorbike, on my way to look at a dead communist... No, not that.

I always wanted to live abroad, though I thought it would be Europe. And here I am, living in Korea, traveling to parts of Asia. I was wearing my pink backpack and flip flops...a bag and shoes I bought before my very first international trip to Sweden, in March 2001.

When I decided to leave the States, the people who didn't know me well claimed I was running away from something; the people who knew me well said leaving the States was the best decision for me.

I think I ran to my life.

For reasons beyond my control, I may be back in the States next summer for a few years. I can't see myself living there for long. My life isn't there. My life is pretty much anywhere but there. This is what I was thinking while traveling at breakneck speed through Hanoi.

Hanoi Traffic

So I got off the motorbike to look at a dead communist.

I got in line, then deposited my bag at the luggage station. The lines snaked hundreds of meters around this complex, out onto the street. I went through a security checkpoint and waited even longer. Walking into the building itself, we passed security guards (military, dressed in white uniforms and full regalia) with bayonets. While shuffling our way up the stairs, a woman fainted and was carried out by two military guards.

What am I doing here?

The Vietnamese (most people in line were Vietnamese) were quiet, very solemn.

We walked in the cold, air conditioned room with his body laid out behind glass. Soldiers stood, one at each corner, protecting Ho Chi Minh's body. More military men were standing in the room, making sure we took no photos (all electronics were forbidden), didn't talk, didn't wear hats, and kept our hands out of our pockets.

As we exited, we were shuffled to Ho Chi Minh's house. I paid the 10,000 dong fee but skipped most of the house to get to the museum (another 10,000 dong fee).

The museum was filled with surrealist sybolism. Giant plastic (clay? plaster?) pieces of fruit on a titled giant table with giant bent chairs. Cars coming out of walls. Photo after photo, a veritable Who's Who of Communists. A group of middle school girls, dressed in white shirts with red scarves around their necks surrounded me, "Hello!"

"Hello!"

"Where are you from?"

"America, but I live in Korea."

"North Korea?"

"No, South."

The main speaker looked a bit disappointed. "What is your name?"

"Amanda."

They try out my name. "A...man-da?"

"Yes." They, in turn, each introduced themselves to me. "Welcome to our country!"

And I wonder why I'm allowed by the US government to come here, a communist country, but not to visit Cuba. Is it because my gov't finally admitted defeat in Vietnam and Ho Chi Minh is dead, but they still can't stand the fact that they can't properly kill Castro?

The whole area was like a Disney World of Vietnam. Families were there, children were excited, it was like an outing. The man I met at the Temple of Literature wanted me to see how the Vietnamese see Ho Chi Minh. I think I only scratched the surface of understanding today.

Modern Propaganda

I got another xe om ride home (20,000 dong this time) and noticed that the lights count down from 20. This explains why everyone starts going at exactly the same time.

I got back, slept a bit, read a bit, and went shopping.

I bought two silk dresses, a silk wrap tunic, and a wide-legged pair of silk pants. Average price per piece, under $30. One of the dresses is being altered as I type. I told Good Man that he's taking me out to dinner when I get back.

Silk Dress

Embroidery on Silk Tunic

This is the traditional hat worn by women (today, too, not just in the past). I bought it yesterday for $1, and it's the reason my face isn't as lobster-red as my arms and shoulders. I was playing dress-up in the hostel room when nobody else was around.

Vietnamese Conical Hat
(모자를씁시다!)

Went to the water puppet show last night, it was lovely.

Went to the Perfume Pagoda today.

I am sunburned and exhausted.

Boats

Man Fishing
Vietnam

Well, Vietnam is NOT Korea, that's for sure.

Other than Hong Kong, which is a weird version of China, I've never been to a communist country before. Yesterday at the immigration checkpoint the officer gave me the slowest look I've ever gotten at immigration. I didn't dare smile.

Yesterday my memory card broke and just gave me error after error. Luckily, I found a photo shop and the man formatted my card for me for free. Thank you!

I wandered around, got my bearings a bit, had some delicious fruit shake and some Malaysian bun for 8,000 dong. That's less than 50 cents. I had a huge dish of I don't know what rice and some veggies and durian tea for 20,000 dong (about $1.20). The old couple eating at the restaurant was laughing at me since I obviously had no clue what I wanted, and I just laughed too.

I crashed last night, hard, at about 6 pm, woke up around 10 for two hours and then went back to bed.

I was up eating breakfast at 7 am this morning, which makes me feel (now, at 2:30 pm) as if I've done enough today.

Street in the Old Quarter, 7:30 am

I had breakfast then walked to a local lake and temple (enterance 3,000 dong). I then walked to the Hoa Lo Prison, better known as the Hanoi Hilton. That was an interesting site, though most of it has been torn down and a high rise is in its place. (Admission 5000 dong, about 30 cents.)

Hanoi Hilton

Hanoi Hilton
(That is glass in the concrete edges.)

Vase

I then walked over to the Temple of Literature (admission also 5000 dong), a beautiful, quite area. I ended up talking to a nice 23-year old Vietnamese man for about an hour. He wanted to practice his English for a job interview at the end of the month. I had a heck of a time getting him to understand that I live in Korea and my boyfriend is Korean.

He asked what I knew of Ho Chi Minh and I said not much. He made me promise I would go to the Ho Chi Minh museum to learn what the Vietnamese think of him.

I had lunch for $5 at a restaurant called KOTO (Know One, Teach One). They take street children and train them and educate them to give them better lives. I got a huge falafel and a can of Diet Coke for less than $5 and left the change.

I then took a waaaaaaaay overpriced cyclo ride back to my hostel. Fact is, I knew I was getting ripped off, but I am American and guess what, I do have money. I'm not going to haggle over $2 when a man is pushing my (relatively speaking) rich self around the scary streets of Hanoi using his leg power. It's not worth it.

Cyclo

Tonight may be a sitting on my butt, reading my bootleg books (bought at the prison for $12) or I may check out the water puppet show. Not sure. It's about 35 degrees and that's slowing me down.

English Camp is finally over. Thank goodness.

I go to Vietnam tomorrow.

My principal says that because I am going alone instead of with my boyfriend I will be very lonely. And bored. Lonely and bored.

Today is Liberation Day. This is the day that Korea was liberated from Japan because America used an A-bomb. Or something like that.

So last night, after taekwondo class, Good Man and I went out for dinner with Master's family. It was really nice. His kids were so shy! It was funny, they weren't nearly as shy with my parents.

Good Man had met a professor of his for coffee during the day, so he showed up wearing a suit. He looked really good, but I kept expecting to see Good Man, not Good Man in a Suit, so I was a bit thrown off every time I saw him.

We had dak kalbi, which is chicken (and in this case rice cake, too) in a rich, spicy sauce. At the restaurant the waitress said I was the first foreigner she'd ever seen in there. She asked where I was from.

The restaurant was fairly small and everyone was listening. Master said, "She's Korean. She likes soju!" Everyone else smiled or laughed. The next two or three times she asked, he kept saying I was Korean. He did finally tell her I was an English teacher and I took taekwondo...then he did business, describing where he taught and how good his studio, and so on.

Over dinner I found out that NewSabumnim will be gone at the end of the month. She's going to be teaching in China for a year. I told him we should have a surprise party for her and recounted my story of the December surprise party to Good Man in English. Master followed up with his version in Korean.

Then I asked Master a question I've wondered about for a while. I wanted to know why Master—the youngest son—got Tongil and the family's house whereas his older brother got a new studio and no house. In part it came down to timing with the sons and their university and military time, but it also had to do with the fact that Master's Brother's Wife already had a house. I have wondered about this but couldn't figure out how to ask, so Good Man did it for me.

I asked Master how old his brother was (30) and found out his wife is 32. I said, "Oh, she is older." Master said, "Yes, like me!" I jutted my thumb at Good Man and said, "Like him, too." Master said, "Oh yes, true!" and reached across the table to shake his hand, as if he'd met kin. Master's Wife grinned at me and we both laughed.

We had soju, but Master poured in a different order than he taught me in the soju rules. He poured to Good Man first. Later I asked Good Man why. He said it's because it was two men meeting for the first time. (My response? "Your country is too complicated.") I figured it was something like that. When he remembered that Good Man is younger than me, I stopped pouring for Master and Good Man did it. We had three bottles, and I was doing pretty good shot for shot until the last few.

We had ice cream after dinner. While we were walking along, Powerful was on the street. Oh! I was so excited to see him, I haven't seen him in months! He's going to a hogwon to prep for the university exam. I greeted him and then walked away. I turned around and he was bowing and waving at me with a bit of a "who the heck is that?" look on his face. I miss him.

Master's Daughter held my hand while we went to the ice cream shop, walking along higher areas of the street then jumping down. Master was doing the same with his son near the subway steps. I wondered what the people around us thought.

After ice cream we went back to Master's house for coffee and fruit. We ran into Grin on the way back to Master's house, and he joined us to talk to Master. Master semi-introduced Good Man and Grin in this "this is a friend of Amanda's" way. It's common to either straight not introduce people or to semi-introduce people if one party really doesn't need to know the other.

While we were having coffee Master said to Good Man, "Amanda used to come to taekwondo every day. But now she is very busy." I asked Good Man later what Master meant. He said he was just teasing.

A very nice evening.

I've started forgetting what things are like at home. I watch people carry a bag between them and think, "Is this Korean or do they do this at home, too?"

I remember when Mark came home from living abroad for two years. We met him at the airport and he was freaking out because he could understand everybody.

The longer I stay here, the more I know I won't stay home for long.

Samsung Credit Card, 아싸!

For all of my ranting about Korean banking...Samsung and the poor girl at KTF have come through.

Foreigners in Korea can't, generally speaking, get credit cards. Or, they can get credit cards with a slew of weird requirements, like one year left of a professor gig but they need to already be three months into the contract...contracts are almost certainly 1 year contracts, making that an impossible requirement to fill, especially since (if you're working legally) you get your visa before you start working. Another requirement is to put down 1.1 million won as a down payment/hold to get a 1 million won limit credit card.

Yet a Korean credit card or a deposit is needed to get a normal cell phone. Because foreigners can't be trusted with a foreign credit card and a cell phone. I don't know, maybe we'll figure out a way to use our foreign credit cards and Korean handphones to block the proper fermenting of kimchi or something. (Apparently things are sometimes easier depending on where you try to get the handphone from.)

Well, Good Man found out that foreigners who work for public schools can get Samsung credit cards and I got one. I asked for a Visa, they gave me AmEx, but whatever. The limit is 1.5 million won, which is enough to get a plane ticket nearly anywhere and certainly more than enough to get a cell phone.

The first time I used my Samsung credit card was at a bakery. The woman looked at me and said, "Is this a Samsung card?"

"Yes."

She looked at her coworker, held up the card and said, "Is this a Samsung card?"

Her coworker said "Yes."

She said, "Foreigners can use Samsung cards?"

She said it to her coworker, but I said, "Yes." Then she studied my name really, really closely. I don't think my name was studied that closely even when I was 18 years old and had my first credit card, a TJX Visa with a limit of $250. (I worked at Marshall's during the time, which was owned by TJMaxx.)

KTF

Today was a loooong day. I have a prepaid phone though KTF. Problem is that it's very expensive. My school also gives me a phone. Problem there is that the phone is super-duper old and I really don't want my school to have access to my phone records. Also, if I switch jobs, it means one more phone number.

Well, I couldn't keep my old phone number (which means changing all of my business cards by hand cause I sure as heck am not ordering new ones), and I had to get a new phone (it's a little too big for my liking), but I finally for a normal plan.

It took more than two hours. Apparently the problem was that my foreigner's number (like an SSN, the national ID number) was already associated with an account under 아만다 or Amanda S or 아만다 쇼 or 쇼 아만다 or who knows what.

While we were waiting forever I starting drumming on Good Man's leg. "심심하니까, 이렇께 해...." Because I am bored, I am doing this...

Handphone service in Korea is a little different than it is (or was when I left) in the States. You pay only for outgoing time and messages. I ended up getting the plan that allows for 1200 SMS messages a month. I know this sounds excessive (though not as excessive as the man who got fired for sending 38,000 messages in a month), but I've already sent and received more than 250 in the first ten days of the month. I had no idea I texted so much. (Then I realized that you only pay for outgoing, so next month I'll change to the 600 free SMS messages plan.) I pay 18 won per 10 seconds of talk time, too.

I was freaking out over the new keypad. I have memorized the Hangul texting system, but it turns out that my last two phones have been Samsung phones and Samsung has some patent on their alphabet order. Since my new phone isn't Samsung, I have to memorize a new system. No more 012-00125-612 for 아만다. Now it's 03-795-49.

Also, I don't think this phone has a Kor-Eng/Eng-Kor dictionary. Damn.

After we finally got a phone, we had some dinner and ice cream. We brought ice cream to the employees at the phone shop (the guy didn't really help us, but I wasn't going to bring ice cream to one and not the other) because they don't get paid well and they didn't just throw up their hands and say "you're a foreigner, go away." I am sure this is because I was there was a Korean, but I really don't care.

Then we watched some musicians from the Andes do a free concert and some middle school girl did an "Ask a Foreigner" interview with me. I made Good man ask her who had assigned it. Turns out it was a Korean teacher. Evil assignment.

By the end of the day, Good Man looked like he just wanted to take a nap.

Long-Suffering Good Man Just Wants a Nap

DHL Screws Up

Monday the DHL guy called me at work. I wasn't home so I told him to leave the package (my check card from the States) with the security guard. Monday night the guard didn't have it, but I got home late enough that I thought maybe the main office would. Tuesday they didn't have it. So I called the DHL guy back and he said he'd stuck it in my mailbox.

My unlocked-because-nobody-in-Korea-locks-their-mailboxes-
I-don't-even-know-how-to-get-a-key mailbox.

Good Man called him and delivery guy showed up. He then knocked on every door on my floor, asking if anyone had seen the package. Nobody had (so they say). He sort of looked panicked and was bowing very low. He offered to pay the fee for a new credit card (there is none) and then gave me 35,000 won for the postage. He was very apologetic and I know he was afraid that I'd call and report him since a) they aren't supposed to stick things in maibboxes and b) he'd marked the package as signed when it wasn't.

I don't want the poor guy to get fired. It was a mistake, and I bet he doesn't make it again.

So I called my bank, canceled the card, got a new one sent out, and spent 30 mins on the phone answering the teller's questions about Korea.

Samcheongdong

Last night, Good Man and I met to take photos of a new knitting pattern I have written for sale.

Unfortunately, it was pouring and some of the roads were blocked and I was getting very cranky. He asked me if I was upset with him. I wasn't, but I ranted about the rain and how late it was, and a little about work. He just smiled at me and held my hand.

Good Man has been well-trained by his previous girlfriends. He really knows how to deal with me when I'm upset about something. Thank you former girlfriends!

We ended up at Gyeongbokgung and 삼청동 (Samcheongdong).

삼청동 is a cute little neighborhood near the Vietnamese Embassy. Good Man was good enough to pick up my visa for me this week since I couldn't ask for more time off of work to get it. While we was there, he explored the surrounding areas and discovered this neighborhood. (Side note: The Vietnamese embassy is tiny and made up of trailers, which was not what I was expecting.)

The neighborhood is made up of artsy little shops, overpriced restaurants and very few people! Good Man kept saying he didn't feel like he was in Korea because nobody was around. It was very nice to wander around the area.

We made our way to Insadong and found an Indian restaurant to chow down at. Oddly enough, Good Man was the only man in the restaurant. There must have been at least two dozen women there...and he the lone man. I joked that we'd found a lesbian hang-out, he said he thought the women were there to look cool and put pictures on their Cyworld pages. Well, that is how a certain subset of women behaves. "Look at us, we're so cool 'cause we eat Indian food!"

I have, in a very short time period, introduced Good Man to Thai and Indian food and he likes them both. Four points for me!

At the subway station two young women approached me and asked if I knew where I was going. I said I did and they asked if I could help them find a hostel. Good Man and I told them where we thought they should go, but it was so late we couldn't help them find it. I wanted to—I hated being lost in Stockholm!

By the time we got on the train, the last train to my area of town had stopped, so I had to get off at Guro. All of the taxi drivers there had formed some sort of illegal price-fixing union. They wouldn't just drive like normal. Instead, they stuck two, three, or four strangers in a taxi who were going to the same general area. Then they drove to that area without the meter on and charged each person a fixed fee. All of the taxi drivers were doing this. A bit frustrating, though I have to admire their enterprising spirit a bit.

Table Taekwondo

Wednesday was another good taekwondo class with more push ups, sit ups, and squats. A good class, a hard workout. Tonight we played soccer. Apparently we hit the ceiling too much, so a new rule has been implemented. When the ball hits the ceiling, we have to do ten push ups. At one point, 3 members of 4 on one team were doing push ups. At another point, the ball went under a kid doing push ups and the other players kicked the ball out from under him. I couldn't stop laughing; my studiomates thought I was nuts.

Wednesday nights, with some help from the high school boys, the upper elementary and middle school boys got into this formation. They stayed this way for approximately 40 seconds. I couldn't do it.

The Boys Get Into a Chair and Table Formation

Amanda and Good Man

Lego at the Toy Museum

"I Don't Feel Like I'm in Korea," said Good Man

Amanda and Good Man Again

Bank Reflections

Books. Coffee.

Toilet

Princesses

Past Meets Present

I have a friend who wants to try kombucha tea. Anyone know about it?

Last night a giant cicada (매미) got stuck between the window and screen on my porch. It made 맴맴 (maem maem) noises until I thought I was going to risk letting it into my house to kill it. Finally it found the giant hole in the screen again and left. Thank goodness, because I am sure I would have scratched my eardrums out while I was sleeping had it not left.

Last week I didn't get to any taekwondo classes. Monday I got there late because my dobok was soaking wet in the morning and I had to pick it up after work. Tuesday there was no class after 1:30 and the rest of the week was vacation. So getting back to class after nearly 2 weeks off was really nice. We did lots of calisthenics and I'm sure my abs will ache tomorrow.

Grin was running the class. I asked what "thirty" was using the pure Korean counting system because I rarely need to count that high.

He said "thirty" in the Sino-Korean numbers.

"Yes, I know, but ten, twenty...?" I said using Korean numbers.

"Thirty!" he said in Sino-Korean.

I shook my head. I held out my left hand and counted in Sino-Korean numbers. "Ten, twenty, thirty..." I held out my right hand and counted in pure Korean numbers. "Ten, twenty..."

"Oh! 서른!"

I've been listening to my iPod on shuffle lately, which has made me realize a) I have some really bad music on my machine, b) I have some really good music on my machine, c) I have no idea how some of that stuff got on my iPod, d) some of the music I've never before listened to is really good. I discovered this gem while walking from the bus stop to school today.

"The Bell" by Stephen Smith.

I felt bad for Good Man this weekend. We were supposed to go out of town and then a typhoon came through and made it rainy where we were supposed to go. It was hot and even the rain wasn't cooling it down. I was just plain cranky.

Saturday we went to one of the international markets, where I stocked up on cheese (!), marshmallows and Jell-O (yeah, don't know what I'll do with that), green seedless grapes (that I am eating now), and root beer. And then I was happy. Of course then he had to go home! Oh well.

We met again tonight, after taekwondo class and had dinner and dessert. For once it wasn't ice cream proper. It was a shaved ice dessert with fruit on top. Fruit and beans. Fruit and beans and sliced cherry tomatoes.

I brainstormed a list of Chinese characters I know and wrote them on our place mat. I knew how to write nine of them, which actually surprised me.

Then I entertained myself (and Good Man, actually) by writing "Amanda and [Good Man]" in Korean inside hearts on our place mat. "This is what I would be doing if we were in middle school," I said.

While I was coloring one of the hearts red, Good Man asked, "Why do you write your name like 아만다 instead of 아멘다?" Writing it the second way would make people pronounce the "man" part correctly. Now people pronounce all the a's the same way, as if it were a Spanish name.

"Because I like the way it looks. Why do you write your name the way you do in English instead of Romanizing it the correct way?" I wrote down various Romanizations.

"Because it doesn't look right any of those ways."

A few weeks ago I was giving the students an oral exam. One student came into the hallway and started shouting, "Amanda Teacher! Mouse, mouse," and pointing to his foot.

Recalling my "homesick" is literally 집 아프다 which means "my house is sick" episode with Master, I laughed.

쥐나다 is the verb that means a body part has "fallen asleep" and 쥐 means mouse.

"Your foot is asleep?"

"No! Not sleeping, mouse! Mouse!"

I laughed and nodded. "Your foot is asleep."

"Owwww! 아파요!"

(Don't ask me how I know such a rarely used word but I don't know the word for "toothbrush.")

Most Korean women, especially young women up to about the age of 35, have this whine in their voice. Also, Korean women call their older boyfriends "오빠/oppa/big brother" as a nickname. These two factors come together prominently when they're talking to their boyfriends in public.

Like on the subway.

"Big Brother! [whine] I'm tired! Big Brother! [whine] I'm hungry. Big Brother! [whine] Pay attention to me!"

It makes me feel very sorry for their boyfriends and I don't know why they put up with it.

With that information...

A Few Days Ago, People Watching

Me: Oh, isn't that cute. The girl on the stairs is whining at her boyfriend.

Good Man: What do you mean?

Me: 오빠!

Good Man, head drops to his chest and he shakes it slowly: You did that very well.

I promised I'd never do it again.