Amanda Takes Off...

Sometimes I get emails or comments from readers who say that I've inspired them to come to Korea (or stay away). I think, for the most part, I present a fairly positive view of Korea. However, now that I'm nearly a year removed from the worst of my jobs here, I'm ready to start presenting some of the...more nonsensical aspects of living and working in Korea.

Korean logic, Klogic, is something that defies most Westerners (and Good Man). It is, unfortunately, something that anyone coming to Korea will have to deal with. Ahhh, 'tis the nature of the beast.

Unfortunately, due to insane Korean laws, I can not name my employers. Not even when they've been found in a court of law to owe me money and the prosecutor has promised to "punish" them. Not even when they've been found to owe others over 15,000,000 won by a court of law. Not even when they got me evicted, and I have proof. Not even when they ran off and closed the school with no notice. Because, you see, if I were to name these employers, I might make them "lose face."

(Consider that your first lesson in Klogic.)

With that introduction, I present the first in an erratic series...

Fine Moments of Klogic: Windows

I
Imagine, if you will, a suddenly slightly cool fall day. Cool, but not at all unpleasant. Sitting on the floor, in a hogwon, with kindy kids.

Confused Foreigner (me): Mellanie, why is the floor heat on?
Mellanie (very rude Korean co-teacher): Because it's cold outside.
Confused Foreigner: Then why are all the windows and doors wide open, and why is the air conditioning on?
Mellanie: Because it's hot inside.

II
Imagine, if you will, a damn cold December day. Cold. A substandard heater, and strong winds blowing dust around outside.

Cool Co-Teacher: I'm going to open up the windows, it's dusty in here.
Confused Foreigner (me): But it's dusty outside.
Cool Co-Teacher: The dust only goes out. It won't come in.

Today was a weird Korean language day. I was studying flashcards while riding down an escalator and an old man (going up the escalator) leaned over far to see what I was doing. I twisted my wrist so he could see and he looked shocked. Yeah, like I can't see you. On the subway ride home, the guy I was standing next to was trying to see what I was reading and leaning over until I finally turned the book so he could see it.

I told Good Man these stories and then said, "Hey, I finally figured out how to remember 드디어." 드디어 means "finally" and it's said like deu-di-eo. "But you're going to laugh, cause you laughed about the cow."

He looked at me and laughed. I went on. "I sort of think of two girls talking to each other and one of them just had sex with her boyfriend for the first time. So the other says, 'Dude, he finally did'ya.' Can you hear it? 'DUde, he FINALLY DI yA.' OK, so it's really not that close, but otherwise I can not remember it, and if you say it fast enough, it's sort of the same."

I looked at Good Man. "Du, finally di ya."

He shook his head. "Naughty girlfriend..."

Saturday I met YJ for a language exchange. Good Man worked late, late Friday night, so I knew he wouldn't be at my house when he said he would. (I am very clever like that.)

Meeting YJ was nice, she helped me with my essay and we took pictures of each other. She bought this little camera online and the little plastic pop-up square cracked us both up.

YJ With Her Camera

On the way to meet her, I had to transfer at Sadang station. I passed a group of about 12 middle school/high school aged boys. I sensed one of them would say something and I was right. I heard a few "hi"s and walked on. But about 20 feet away, I decided to say something to them. I turned around, walked back and said, "HI!" as loudly as they had.

It was like Moses parting the waters. The boys moved to the side, leaving the sole speaker in front of me.

"HI!" I repeated.

"Uh! Oh!" He looked so scared. "Um, nice to meet you!" he said.

"No, we haven't met. First, 'Hi, how are you.' Second, 'What's your name?' Third, 'Nice to meet you.'" In typical fashion, the boy who spoke had the lowest level of English and his friends had to translate what I was saying.

After a minute or two of freaking them out, I left. Only to pass a group of 8 elementary aged boys. This time, when one said "hi!" I turned around right away. They scattered the same way fish do when you tap the glass of their aquarium. I bobbed my head, looking at all of them. "What's your name?" I said. (Koreans know how to say these things in English: Hi, what's your name, I am Korea(n), My name is..., nice to meet you.)

"My name is Crazy," said the primary offender.

"앗! 미쳤어?" I said in banmal. His friends all laughed and hit each other and I walked away.

At Sadang station, I found this ad.

Matchmaking Butterfly Ad

Duo is a matchmaking company. The ad says, roughly, "Men aren't the only ones who can be butterflies."

I had to ask Good Man what in the world that meant.

Butterflies choose their flowers, like men choose women. The ad was claiming that women can choose men, too. By comparing men to butterflies.

OK, Korea.

Junior High

When I was in junior high, my brother and I spent winter vacation with my father, who lived in Arizona. He had a friend, 21 years old, Eric, if I recall correctly.

He would buy coffee at the 7-11 and shove those tiny little plastic tubs of flavored creamer in his pockets, not paying for them. I once pointed to the little sign saying they were 5 cents each, and he scoffed.

Eric loved coffee.

And I, in the way only a 14 year old girl could, loved Eric.

High School

This crush, combined with being born between Generations X and Y, made me love coffee shops when I was in high school.

Too young to really be Gen X, I mostly missed the 'zine wave, the riot grrls movement, and raves. Five years too young to do Gen X, five years too old for Gen Y, I did manage to get into grunge music, flannel, Trainspotting and...coffee shops.

I wasn't cool enough to partake in the habits of my friends who chain-smoked, talked about dropping acid, smoking pot, or drinking liquid codeine. I was cool enough to drink coffee. I would go home, smelling cigarette smoke when I shook my head, the scent coming off of my hair. The taste of coffee, usually black, behind my teeth.

I remember ordering a triple espresso from Café Zev (Mark, remember that place?) after my classes at college (but I was in high school, yes) and being told by the lithe-gay coffee dude that he'd made a mistake and made a quadruple by accident.

"That's cool." I could handle a quad.

College

I lived with a lover for far too long. A lover who didn't drink coffee, but who plays into my coffee baggage. What the Hell Was I Thinking hated it when we didn't go to bed at the same time, hated that I got to sleep in later because of my class schedule (and thus, woke me up all the time), and told me—while I was doing my teacher's certification program, taking a full load of classes and student teaching 40 hours a week—that it "wasn't fair" that I would get "summer vacations" and I "since I work, you had better work, too."

I dumped What the Hell Was I Thinking halfway through my second year of grad school, which was also my first year as a teacher. And I never, ever worked summer vacations when I was a teacher in the States.

Just After Grad School

After What the Hell Was I Thinking was Dead Fan (Who Was Ten Years Older and Should Have Known How to Dump a Woman Properly, But Didn't). Dead Fan liked coffee and I spent too much money on a coffee maker for my house, hoping it would make Dead Fan more comfortable. Dead Fan didn't last long—my house was always "too warm"—but luckily, I was able to sell the coffee maker for a decent price. (Dead Fan, for the record, dumped me at the same place we had our first date, which was...a coffee date.)

Korea

Now I drink coffee when I am with people who drink coffee. I drink coffee at shops with friends and during language exchanges, and when I'm offered it at work.

I do not drink coffee at home. Good Man, however, does.

Coffee in South Korea is most often sold in sticks. A stick of instant coffee, cream and sugar added. You have to pinch the end of the stick to prevent the sugar from coming out, but the marked pinch point is always off and you end up getting sugar anyway. It's really not that fantastic.

The teacher I replaced left about a dozen sticks of coffee in the kitchen, coffee I thought would be left for the next teacher.

When Michael left Korea, he gave me coffee. Good, real coffee. My school provided me with a coffee maker, but since I don't drink coffee, it's buried under my sink.

The coffee maker and coffee have yet to meet, so I'm still giving Good Man those instant sticks. In fact, I actually had to buy a box of those instant sticks to keep having coffee around.

I bought instant coffee sticks rather than taking ten minutes to clear a space and figure out how to run a Korean coffeemaker.

I am a horrible girlfriend.

When He's Here

When Good Man spends the night, I let him sleep. I remember too well when I felt forced to act awake, only to crawl back into bed as soon as the door shut, as soon as the car engine turned over.

When Good Man stays over, I pour water in the teapot (an inheritance from Michael) and set the flame high while I try to decide what to wear.

By the time it's whistling, I'm dressed. I turn off the flame, pour a stick of coffee into a mug, try to pinch back the sugar. I pour in a splash of milk, stir it with an unpaired wooden chopstick.

I walk into the bedroom, place the mug on the end of the nightstand (also an inheritance from Michael), and lean across the mattress to touch Good Man's shoulder.

"Hey, [Good Man], it's 8:00. Here's your coffee. Don't miss work." I know he won't miss work, he never does, but I say it every time.

When I come home after work, I know where Good Man checked his email, where he sat with his laptop. I'll find the mug on the floor where he drank it, a light circle of dried coffee in the bottom.

2단) 아만다
Second Dan) Amanda

The date is set. February 29th, 3:00. A second time around.

Taekwondo has been so awesomely tough lately. Officer is a fantastic teacher.

And the kids have been so funny. Coverboy started teasing me a few days ago. Instead of 누나 (nuna, big sister), he was using the honorific title suffix, nim. 누님! 누님! Nunim, nunim! And then he was throwing himself on the ground in a big bow. I couldn't stop laughing. Meanwhile, Crybaby's been talking about how her birthday is tomorrow. She told me every day I saw her this week, and I brought her candy tonight.

Tonight's class was a test class, but because of work, I ended up being very late. I was in the closet changing, when Master yelled, "아만다! 끝나!" End.

If the closet hadn't been jammed with stuff, I could've kicked myself. I had seriously considered skipping class cause I thought that might happen. I threw my hands in the air and yelled back, "OK, 알게습니다!". The kids all laughed; I guess because my voice was coming from the closet.

When class was over Master smiled at me, "Sorry, fast test."

I shrugged, "Slow subway. But I came!"

He nodded and gave me a high five.

I may not have done anything, but I did show up.

Master Teasing Crybaby

The Boy I Kissed

Coverboy Making Music

Coverboy, Jamming

Coverboy's Moon Face

Apple Thief Ajumma

Monday, I was coming home from taekwondo. I spotted an apple truck, and the apples on the truck looked delicious. I looked around for whomever needed my money and only found a well-dressed woman.

She looked at me.

I looked at her and said, in Korean, "I want some apples."

"Oh, no, I do too," she said (also in Korean), "but I'm looking for the ajosshi."

I felt bad instantly and apologized a few times. She brushed off my apologies and started yelling. "Ajosshi! Ajosshi! Hurry up!"

We stood around waiting, and she finally grabbed the biggest apple within reach, used her hands to break it in half perfectly, and handed me a piece. "Eat," she said.

I took a bite of the apple. It was as delicious as I'd imagined. I looked at her, "You had a lot of power!"

"What?"

"The apple, like this," I said, imitating her tearing the apple apart.

Apple Thief Ajumma laughed and said she has to cook a lot at home.

Finally, the Car Ticketing Ajosshi came over. Apple Thief Ajumma asked him if we could just pay him. She bought a huge bag of apples for 10,000 won, I got a smaller bag (still with more than a dozen, big, juicy apples in it) for 5,000 won. Before I was able to walk away, Apple Thief Ajumma traded out three small apples in my bag for three huge apples from the bed of the truck.

I thanked her and we parted ways with a "맛있겠다 드세요!" Eat well.

Sunday (I think), I lost a hand-knit glove.

Yesterday I managed to leave my fantastic, awesome wool fliptops that I've had for more than 10 years on the bus. Both of them.

Today I lost 50,000 won. And I semi-lost my socks.

I may start crying soon.

Sorak-San and Sokcho Album

So after my "I can not deal with Korean culture" fit and Good Man's amazing "OK, I'll handle it" response, we headed to Sorak-san and Sokcho Saturday morning.

I was a little doubtful that the weather would be nice, as it's been icy cold lately, but Good Man thought that it would be warm and not to worry about it.

After a four-hour long bus ride (where we studied Korean, napped, and napped some more), we ended up in Sokcho. We then looked for the bus stop to go to Sorak-san. Good Man started to head up the street, but I spotted the tourist office and demanded he ask them. Good thing, too, because the stop was in the other direction.

After collecting our free maps, we headed to Sorak-san National Park. Unfortunately, since we were in the mountains, it was starting to get dark quickly, so we didn't have much time. We ate some lunch and then got cable car ticket. Good Man had wanted to hike, but apparently changed his mind once he saw all of the snow.

While we waited for our cable car time, we visited the temple. It was beautiful, but a bit crowded. And since I'm not Buddhist, I don't much understand, notice, or appreciate the differences among Buddhist temples in Korea. (I notice structural/architectural differences between temples in South Korea, Thailand, Vietnam.)

We took the cable car to the viewing point, and it really was beautiful. It was cold, very lightly snowing, and grey, but still beautiful. We had some coffee at a café, just enjoyed each other's company.

On the way back down, some Halabeoji was pushing his grandson in front of me and making rude sounding comments at me. He actually pushed my shoulder, trying to get his grandson in front of me. I finally turned around and he mumbled something at me. I said, "네, 하지만 사람 많이 있습니다." Yes, but there are many people.

It was my way of saying "knock it off, old man," (using the polite formal form, of course, after all, he was old) and it worked. He nodded at me and backed up. Good Man later said I wasn't rude and that grandfathers are especially worked up over their grandsons. Still didn't give him any good reason to push me!

We headed back to Sokcho via taxi and looked for a hotel room. The area near the bus station was surrounded with "sauna" motels. In other words...not the kind of hotel Good Man and I would want to sleep up. Think a step below love motels. I was getting cranky (poor Good Man!) because it was cold and my bag was heavy. We hopped in a very short taxi ride basically around the corner and found the fish market area. A-ha.

We found a motel right away and decided we'd go out for dinner. An hour later we still hadn't left and decided on pizza. We started chatting about what we'd do Sunday and I just fell asleep. Good Man, being evil, kept asking me questions. I probably made my own "maybe me, neither" comments, I was so tired.

The next day, I woke up early and studied Korean a bit. When Good Man sort of woke up, I decided I'd find a bakery and grab some breakfast. Good Man said, sounding a bit worried, "Do you know where we are? Can you find your way back?"

I laughed. I'd spotted a bakery right on the main road, but he didn't know that. I smiled, "I've managed to not get lost enough to never come back in Costa Rica, Japan, Hong Kong, Thailand, Vietnam, and Sweden, and I actually speak a little Korean." Good Man grinned and I winked, "But I'll grab my cell phone, just in case."

I didn't get lost, in fact, I found the port area on my little trip, but I was surprised at how dead the town was! Nothing was open. Yes, it was a Sunday morning, but it was after 10 am.

Around 11:30 we headed out, wandering along the port, taking photos. A couple people stared at us, but in his usual form, Good Man wasn't embarrassed. We decided to head to the Hwarang park. The Hwa Rang were highly trained military guys during the Shilla dynasty, and since I do taekwondo, we wanted to check out the park.

We hopped in a taxi and headed over there only to find out that it wasn't at all what we were expecting. It was a park with horseback riding, archery, and the like. And since there was snow all over, it was dead. I started laughing, because it was so not what we expected. "Good Man, are you mad?"

"No," he said, "it's just not what we expected." The best part? Had we looked at the back of our tourist maps—which we had halfway done!—we would've known better.

"아, 바보야," I muttered. Oh, so dumb...

The taxi driver had waited for us, explained that it was closed, then gave us a good recommendation for lunch. He was a friendly guy, polite but interested in who we were, what we'd seen, etc. Still, his lunch rec was great. We had chicken soup at a restaurant with live chickens in front. Ahhh, Korea.

A very nice weekend.

(For the Korean version of this story, check out the 공책.)

So. Sore.

I am so, so sore from tonight's taekwondo class.

We ended up doing regular sprints and drills (which I had to do more slowly than normal, because my knee still hurt), then doing back bridges. For some reason, I am very good at back bridges. Even when I'm out of shape, I can do bridges. (Note, I am getting into them from the floor, not from a standing position.) Officer had us doing bridges but by the last set, I was in pain. So what did I do? I went up on my tiptoes. Why I thought that'd help, I don't know.

Then Master's Brother's Studio joined us and we played soccer. My team did terribly, worst of the lot, but it was certainly not because I wasn't trying! I was really playing soccer, scaring the other team in fact. At one point I was behind a woman from the other team, foot between her legs, trying to get the ball, scooting her across the floor. Another time a kid from the other team was on the ground and I jumped over him to get the ball.

When I first got here, the cheating and slightly-less-than-fair soccer games made me crazy. I've since learned the being "cunning" (cheating) is the Korean way. And since being cunning is OK unless you get called out for it, I was cunning.

Luckily, both teams loved it. Master kept high-fiving me, "Amanda, my style, Tongil style, good!"

Heck, everyone was as cunning as they could be.

Still, now my whole body is sore. My whole body. It hasn't been sore like this in a while.

Good Man and I have only been on a few weekend trips. Anseong, and Nami Island. We have tried planning other trips, only to have his downstairs neighbor die, or to have his bosses make him work.

Well, this weekend we decided we'd go somewhere. Good Man decided on a location, but the train tickets were sold out. We decided we'd just show up at the train station, but then he decided Soraksan would be good, so we planned a trip there.

Friday morning, on my way out the door, I said, "If your bosses say you have to work this weekend, lie. Tell them your aunt is turning 60 or something."

"OK."

"약속해?" Promise?

"Yes," he said, before rolling back to sleep.

Friday evening, while we were chatting, he sent me an "OMG" message that his coworker's father had died.

In South Korea, when someone dies, everyone who knows Someone who that Dead Someone is related to drops everything to travel back to the hometown to sit around for a few days and wait for a funeral. Oh, and give the family money. Cause everything (birth, 100 days, 1 year, 60 years, wedding, death) is about money here. (And we must keep careful, careful track of who gives us what and exactly how much, because when we must give money back, it will be the exact same amount. I will never get married in this country. Tacky.)

He said he would have to go to Daegu and maybe we could meet in Daegu.

I. Lost. It.

His coworkers don't even know about my existence, and he thought I was going to hop on a train to Daegu to sit around and wait around God-knows-where for him to escape and maybe meet me?

Oh, no.

So I said as much.

On top of it, I had already declined a skiing invitation and a birthday party invitation and a drinking invitation and I had not contacted YJ because I was supposed to be out of town.

So I said as much.

He is not close to this guy, he is not friends with him. He doesn't intend to be at this company much longer. I know this is Korean culture, but I did not care.

So I said as much.

Lucky for me, Diana was online at the time. I started CHATTING WITH HER LIKE THIS! YELLING ABOUT KOREA! LIKE THIS!!!! Then she had to get off the computer, but she fabulously called me on the phone SO I COULD YELL AND RANT AND RAVE FOR REAL!'

Now, side. Diana lives in Daegu, and I bet I could've done a "please let me stay with you, I'll be nice to your cat and clean up after myself" if I needed to, but she was going skiing this weekend and wouldn't be around.

So after I ranted and raved about how I hate Korea, hate Koreans, hate Korean culture, I went back to my computer to find out that seven minutes earlier, while I'd been ranting, Good Man had written that he'd said he couldn't leave.

Now, this was true, as his coworkers had all dropped everything to go to Daegu, and were already on their ways out the door, but he'd been on the phone doing tech support for two hours.

Still, he did it for me.

And then I sort of felt my stomach crumble because I am just such an utter bitch sometimes. Especially every four weeks or so, and it wasn't Good Man or Dead Man's fault that the moon was aligned perfectly this weekend.

"Hmm," I said to Diana, "I think I owe Good Man something special now."

So then I went back to packing and prepped and thanked Good Man and apologized.

But this is Korea. You rarely, rarely apologize in Korea. It's not face saving to do so. And when you do apologize, the face saving thing for the other party to do is to act like it's not a big deal.

Now, anyone who's known me for a while knows that I do not like to be wrong, I do not like to apologize, I do not like to admit that I am wrong. Because I am so rarely wrong that we might as well say I am never wrong.

You would think that I would relish the Korean face-saving-no-apologizing-thing. Problem is, somewhere along the way to adulthood, my mom and dad and stepdad and brother and Mark all convinced me that apologizing is not a sign of weakness or defeat.

And so when I apologize, I mean it, because I am not quick to do it.

And when Good Man just said, "It's OK, baby, I'm not upset with you. We'll have a good weekend," I was left sort of standing there. Still feeling crappy about YELLING LIKE THIS.

And also very grateful. Because Good Man is so awesome. And he understands me. EVEN WHEN I AM LIKE THIS!!!!

사랑해, 규드멘.

할머니 머리가 젖꼭지들 사이에 있어요
Grandmother's Head is Between the Nipples

I actually got to mutter that sentence today. I knew "nipple" was a good word to learn...

And because this photo simply must be seen up close...

Yesterday Good Man renegotiated his contract at work (because it's a new year). Everyone did this, but he wasn't expecting it. He managed to get quite a raise, which of course meant a wayshik (forced coworker drinking thing).

Good Man is so funny when he drinks. He's such a nice, sweet, lovebird drunk. And usually his English is fine.

Still, I have no idea what this means.

"Johnny Depp just got the first Golden Globe. For him. Ever."

"OK, hon."

"Maybe me, neither."

Monday I went to taekwondo and did something weird (what, I don't know). My right ankle started hurting to the point that I couldn't do anything properly, so I sat out half the class.

I made it back to class tonight. And on the way up to the studio, I tripped on the third-to-the-top step. My left knee bashed—hard—against the edge of the step. I couldn't even stand up. I stayed there, leaning above the step, iPod scattered (for the third time in a week), trying desperately not to cry. After a very long half minute I stumbled up the rest of the steps, walked into the studio, and sank onto the bench. When I saw Officer, I showed her my knee, which was sporting a small, prominent cut, and asked, "안자도 돼요?" Can I sit down?

She said of course and I spent the entire class watching.

Well, watching and studying Korean vocabulary.

Watching, studying, and rubbing my knee, which was radiating with pain.

Master came into class and asked me what happened. Since I don't know the word for "stairs" or "trip," I had to act it out. I said, "앗! 관장님! 울고 싶었어요. 하지만 울면 안 돼요." Ah, Master! I wanted to cry. But I can't cry."

"왜요?" Why not?

"약속했어요." I promised. I reminded him of our promise.

When he realized what I was talking about he laughed, "Amanda, OK, good job!"

(An unpublished post I found from March 3, 2007.)

You know the old saying (found to be false, I believe) about Eskimos have hundreds of words for snow?

In Korean, it's rice.

"Amanda, 쌀, you know 쌀?"

I say, "밥? 밥?" Rice? Rice?

Master looks confused. Then realizes what I'm saying. 쌀 is uncooked rice. 밥 is cooked rice.

It's almost like he said, "Amanda, do you know tomatoes?"

"Yes, ketchup."

(Actually, there aren't that many words for rice, it's just that rice is described using much more detail than we would in English. And for the record, Good Man says the honorific word for "rice" is 진지.)

I've been in the mood for Mexican food for a couple days. Mexican food here is expensive, and I had two cans of green chili enchilada sauce that Michael gave me before he left, as well as a pack of ten big flour burritos that I probably bought in August at one of the Western markets.

Yesterday I met Good Man at the subway station, where there is a Kim's Club. We bought so much food. I sort of went crazy because I found Bull's Eye barbecue sauce, maraschino cherries, and some sort of four pepper blend—with a built in pepper mill! Pepper here is so finely ground, it's practically tasteless. I was so excited at the idea of real peppercorns. Good Man didn't get it at first, but I ground some fresh pepper into the palm of his hand and he could smell the great pepper scent.

I was so excited.

Maraschino cherries, Jell-O, and marshmallows are similar foods in that they are foods I would rarely eat at home but when I crave them, I hate how hard they are to get here. So I bought maraschino cherries.

For last night's dinner, while Good Man did a huge stack of dishes, I cut five chicken breasts into strips and cooked them on the stove. I took out half of the breast strips and put them aside. While the chicken was cooking, I chopped up red and yellow bell peppers, onion, green onions, red peppers, and garlic. I set aside some of each vegetable and cooked the rest with the chicken. After a few minutes I then added one cubed package of cream cheese and cooked it until it was melted. I tossed on a little habanero hot sauce. Then I stuffed six burritos with the mixture, tossed a can of green chili enchilada sauce and some shredded mon-jack cheese on it and baked it for 30 mins at 350 F.

Then I threw some salt and pepper on the left over chicken. I arranged the raw veggies all nice and pretty on a plate and warmed the remaining burrito shells by tossing them in a stack, between foil, on top of my mini convection oven. I figured it would warm them without overcooking them and it worked. In the meantime, I had used my rice cooker for the first time (yes, I've lived here more than seven months and this was my first time using the rice cooker) to make rice, and I'd thrown some saffron threads in it (totally new to Good Man). I threw the rice in a bowl and some cheese in another bowl and salsa in another.

So we sat on the floor and ate a delicious meal. That we also ate today. And that we'll eat tomorrow. Yes, this meal was so good I had to write about it.

One of the nice things was getting to chat with Good Man while he was washing and I was cooking. It was casual, unimportant talk, but nice nonetheless.

***

Good Man read another fairy tale with me, this one about why monkeys have red butts. I asked about one of the words I couldn't remember. "무겁다...무겁다...what does that mean? Dark?"

"Heavy."

"Oh yeah. Moo-geop-da. When I did know that word, I thought of a cow. 'Moooooo....' Cause a cow is heavy." Good Man looked at me and broke into a fit of giggles. I went on, "What is 'light'?"

"가볍다." Gabeopda.

"What do you want on your pizza? How about potatoes?"

I wrinkled up my nose, "Potatoes on pizza are gross. No potatoes."

"OK."

Pizza Cat Pizza

"What are those yellow things?"

Good Man shrugged. "Um. I dunno. Cheese?"

I tasted the ribbon of yellow and yelled, "This is a sweet potato! I said no potatoes! Gamja chingu! Gamja chingu!." Potato friend. "Why?"

***

눈사람

I have built many snowmen in my life. Umbrellas never came out.

I finally got to see Good Man Wednesday night. After having a nice dinner and spending some time together, I proceeded to torture him.

"We will study Korean! Help me, please." First I showed him two text messages I'd written a friend. "Are there any mistakes?"

"She wrote this to you?"

"No, I wrote it to her."

He nodded, "Perfect." (The second message had one small mistake. The funny thing is that while I was writing it I knew I was making a mistake but couldn't figure out what it was.)

Then I pulled out "The Tortoise and the Hare" and we spent 40 mins reading it. I read out loud, he would correct pronunciation, we'd discuss meaning. Rinse and repeat.

Poor man...40 mins of me reading out loud. Ugh.

Last night I pulled out my Korean fairy tales book. This is much easier to read than the Aesop's Fables book. I said, "Let's read a story."

"OK, which one?"

"Your choice. There are twenty-three, but I know one through eight very well, so they should go faster."

He nodded, "Three."

So I read "The Old Man With a Lump." It sort of felt like cheating since I know the story and thus it's easy. But when I teach, I let my student re-read things. What's wrong with that? It will help my fluency if nothing else.

Before last night, I hadn't picked up the fairy tale book in a spell. I haven't read anything from this book in probably three months. I haven't used it seriously in six.

Then today, at work, where I had nothing to do for four hours, I started reading new stories. I still had to look at the list for many words (pond, fox, serpent, etc) but damn, I knew a lot of these words. I also knew a lot of the grammar patterns. (Recognize would be a better description since I don't know many of them English to Korean, but I recognize them the other way, in context.)

I know this book is very easy, simplified stories, but the fact that it's easier for me than before feels wonderful.

One of the things I wrote about for 100 Words was finding pieces of lovers in your house. The good and the bad. A mislaid sock, a photo you thought you'd already destroyed.

Tonight I was picking up my house.

I just found four pieces of paper on the floor, in a stack, folded in half.

They were print outs of emails to a friend, written 9/21/2004 and 12/01/2004. We wrote each other all the time, so the 10 week spread was odd.

I read them, curious. They were about a long, long gone lover.

I certainly don't have those emails in my inbox anymore and haven't had them for years. I also don't have a printer here.

I was very confused. I searched the papers, thinking perhaps I'd written notes on them. Nothing.

Since these were written, I've moved once in Atlanta, once from Atlanta to Minnesota, once from Minnesota to South Korea. In South Korea I have moved three times.

This raised a host of questions. What was so special about those two unconnected dates? Where did they come from? How did they get here? Why were they on my floor?

And why did I date him for as long as I did?

So very, very strange.

Rude, By Accident

Friday night I met YJ for a language exchange. She read my three posts from my 한국 공책 blog and edited/fixed them. (Yes, even after Good Man edited it, she had some more ideas. It's one of the benefits of going to more than one person for help.)

YJ told me that instead of calling Master's Wife "Master's Wife" or the more usual way of greeting a mother, "Master's Daughter's Mother," (OK, it's actually "Eldest Child's Name's Mother" but since I call the eldest child "Master's Daughter," there you have it), I should call her 사모님 the title for a teacher's wife (can also be used for doctors' wives, etc).

(On a related note, 사부님is a teacher's husband. 부모님 is the title for "parents." 부 comes from Chinese (父) and means "father." 모 comes from Chinese (母) and means "mother." Hence, these are easy titles for me to remember.)

So last night, after class, I asked Master what I should call his wife. I said, "Should I call her [Her Name], Master's Wife, Master's Daughter's Mother or Samonim?"

He explained what Samonim was and said I should use that.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, "Because you didn't know the word. But yes, it's good."

Master is really good about telling me proper titles and words. He's also good at letting me make mistakes for a long time if they aren't that important and don't impede with communication, so I'm guessing he didn't think the title thing was very important. Still, I feel a little rude.

"You can't speak Korean?"

Class is at 5:30 this month due to the winter camp schedule. Last night I showed up to class as kids from the previous class were leaving. One looked surprised, "앗! 아만다! 안녕하세요."

I greeted him in turn and the other boy just stared at me. "한국어를 몰라?" You can't speak Korean?

He shook his head and said slowly, "아니요." Yes, I can. Poor kid, he just looked so confused.

Class itself was good. Officer is a fan of jump roping and we've been doing it quite a bit lately. I got in 800 turns in less than 9 minutes, with brief breaks in there. My feet ached afterwards, though. They still ache today.

We did a lot of kicking drills and since there was an odd number of people, Officer held the targets for me. It was nice to work with her because she gave nice corrections. Also, she's been a bit less shy with me.

Tonight's class was really rough because every muscle below my waist hurt because of last night's class. Tonight I showed up 30 mins late (I had to go to the post office after work) and I was still dripping in sweat by the end of class. Officer runs a good class.

At one point she has us doing kicking drills in groups of three. One person would stand in the middle, two people holding targets on either side. We would do a barenbal (no idea what this is in English, a sort of sliding roundhouse kick) to one side then lightly bounce a few steps to the other side and do it to the opposite person with the opposite leg. We had to do 3 sets of 20, 120 of those kicks is exhausting.

I was working with two boys and we had fun. They were counting in Korean and English. They were counting in Sino-Korean and pure Korean, making up nonsense like 십두. The last set I counted off in Swedish, which confused the heck out of them.

Then we did barenbal and then a roundhouse with the opposite leg. Two sets of 40 (20 for each leg). We ended with alternating roundhousing (not jumping), 30 as fast as we could (less than 30 seconds). Left, right, leftright, leftrightleftright, etc. We did 3 sets of those.

It was a very good class, but I was really aching afterwards. I kept looking at the clock thinking, End it, let's do pushups and situps and squats instead... If I'm thinking that, something is terribly difficult, because I hate doing those things.

I got home, took a very hot shower and then slathered Mentholatum all over my body. I then cursed myself because my whole body burned for more than 45 minutes after doing so.

I am liking these classes with Officer more and more...she pushes me a lot.

Whiny and Mopey

Good Man's been out of town for work since Friday, so I've been all mopey and whiny about it. I know that sounds pathetic. I was single here for a year and dealt with it and enjoyed it...but this is the longest we haven't seen each other since meeting, excepting Vietnam. The good side of it is that I've gotten a lot of Korean studying done.

Today, I finally learned a word that's been in my flashcard stack for months. 사용하다 means "to use." I was passing the cabinet that holds the steel cups for kids to use to get water and saw that it said 사용전. I was trying to figure out what it meant and it clicked. 전 means "before," so I stood there thinking. Before what? Ahhhh... Now I will remember that word since I have a context for it.

I bought a copy of 이솝 이야기 (Aesop's Fables) several months ago thinking I'd be able to read it since I know many of the fables in English. I couldn't, but I decided to try again. I started reading "산토끼와 거북" ("The Hare and the Tortoise") on the subway last night. It was difficult because a) some man kept staring at me and I was trying not to pay attention to it b) I didn't know all of the words. (Heck, I didn't know 거북 but that was pretty easy to figure out!)

I read through it once, just to read it. That took forever. Then, on the way home, I read through it again, starting to to look for grammar patterns I know. I then started reading through it a third time, underlining words I didn't know.

I finished this morning on the bus, and finally looked up the words tonight.

I am an educator. I know that the best way for students to improve their reading is to read fluently—books at or below their level. I also know that if a student is determined to read a difficult book (those Potter books are nowhere near the reading level of many of their child fans!), you should let them.

Really easy books here are often boring or use kid words. (Graded readers don't really exist here, and because KSL is not a market like ESL, there aren't easy books that would interest adults.) This book is nice for me because the stories are quite short (2 to 4 pages, large type), mix Banmal (low) Korean (during dialogue, primarily) with the -sumnida form, and use fairly common vocabulary. Of the vocabulary I don't know, it's mostly a mix of guessable and unguessable, about half the time necessary to know and half the time not. "To be deep blue" neither guessable nor necessary. I couldn't guess "to humble somebody," but it's necessary to the story. Some of the vocab consists of idiomatic phrases, of course. There are lots of little markers I'm ignoring for now because I can figure out the story without them.

I'm enjoying my book. We'll see how many stories I read before getting bored or discouraged.

Last night I met some friends for dinner at COEX. On the way home, on the subway, I ran into a man selling nutcrackers.

I was sitting, studying Korean. There were two middle eastern guys on my left, me, three Americans on my right, and a Korean at the very end (who seemed to know the other Americans). No wonder it was one of the last seats open in the car. It was Foreigners' Row. And nobody wants to sit near those scary foreigners...

Anyhow, this tout was selling these nutcrackers, and the American guy near me was being a jerk. He asked the man how much the nutcracker was. He obviously had no intention of buying one. You don't ask the price from subway touts unless you're going to buy one. Just plain rude.

After trying to sell the nutcrackers in Korean and English, the man noticed me studying Korean.

"Oh! I can teach you Korean! I have perfect pronunciation!"

I was trying so hard not to catch his eye because I had no intention of buying anything, but when he said that I couldn't help but laugh. Of course everyone else was watching us.

He had me read a sentence from my book and said, "I can teach you!"

I said, 한국 남자 친구 있어요. 같이 연습해요." I have a Korean boyfriend. We practice together.

"앗! 한국 사람이에요?" Oh! He is Korean?"

At this point everyone in the car was paying attention to us, or so it felt. "네," I nodded.

He said, "결혼할 거예요?" Will you get married?

I blushed. "음..." and shrugged. I noticed women hitting each other and whispering to each other to see if the other had heard the conversation.

After telling me I should be married to Good Man, he told me I spoke Korean well. I shook my head and said, "아니요. 사투리 있어요. 북한 사람이에요." No, I have an accent. I am a North Korean.

He laughed and laughed, slapped his knee and shook my hand before getting off the subway. On his way out the door, he bowed at me.

God only knows what the Koreans thought of the foreigners on Foreigners' Row.

Good Man has these great brown eyes. His eyes are ringed with blue or green, depending a a few factors: lighting, how tired he is, if he's had any soju, and probably some I haven't figured out yet.

Last night I ended up taking some photos of him. If you look at this one too quickly, you'll miss what I did. (Sequence on the next page.) I love this picture because it shows the blue and green rings that his eyes can get.

Good Man's Eyes

***

Tonight's taekwondo class was hilarious. We played soccer, Team Crazy vs Another Way To Say Team Crazy. I took some pictures of the kids playing soccer, but most of their heads are cut off because I didn't have anything other than my prime lens. I got a couple of goals, always nice.

However, a few weird language things have happened in class lately. Two days ago I needed to say "blood vessel" to Master. I don't know the word for that. What did I say? 비 길. Blood road. He understood.

Tonight...tonight I'm still laughing about. After class I was in the closet, waiting to change, while Crooked Teeth was trying to get something. I said, "소고기 필요해?"

He looked very confused. "아니요."

I was mad because I knew he needed the vacuum cleaner. They always use it! "소고기 필요해!" I yelled.

He just shook his head and left. Five seconds later I threw open the door, smacked the palm of my hand against my head, and said, "난 바보야!" I'm an idiot! " "청소기! 청소기!"

소고기, sogogi, beef. 청소기, cheongsogi, vacuum cleaner.

Of course he didn't need beef.

Team Crazy Scores a Goal!

Crybaby...

...Crying

Catching Action in the Mirror

A Goal Scored, Seen Through The Mirror

Pages: 1 2

Last Friday I went to Seodaemun Prison Museum and Independence Park. Photos and details are up in the gallery.

***

In November I wrote every day of the month as part of the blog every single day in November until you hate your computer challenge.

In a similar vein, this month Diana and I have been working on the 100 Words project. The idea behind the project is that you write 100 words—exactly—every day for one month.

I have no idea what I was thinking suggesting this project. I wrote about past and present relationships every day. It was rough. In any rate, if you want to go read my work, you can. The site is easy to navigate, I'm sure you can find it.

***

Apparently on a "do something every day until you wonder what in God's name you were thinking" kick, I've decided that this year I will do Project 365!

Several years ago I wrote a List of Things To Do Before I Die. One of the things on that list was to take a picture every day for one year. A few months ago I read about Project 365 on Photojojo and was reminded of my idea.

This year I will be doing that project. I'll be posting the photos on the blog I link to above, 365 Days.

Yes. I am crazy. We know this.

***

Diana and I met yesterday! She was in the area skiing, so I met her and her coworker Sejin for coffee. We were chatting up a storm, got along very well. Good Man was at a "closing ceremony" outing but we wanted him to join us.

He called me after work to see where we were. He said, "Um. But I should tell you...I am a little drunk."

I burst out laughing because he sounded drunk.

Still, Good Man that he is, he joined us. We had coffee until Sejin needed to go home. Diana and I then went and got...Doctor Fish! Love the doctor fish!

Since Good Man wasn't participating, the fish actually ate my feet this time. I was a bit jumpier this time though, my reflexes kicking into action a few times and scaring the fish away. The fish were much bigger this visit than last visit, too.

After Doctor Fish we had a pasta dinner. Good Man...oh Good Man. He just sat there while Diana and I went on and on about dating, men, relationships, Korea, work, taekwondo (just a little bit), and so on. Good Man just sat there and grinned, only speaking every once in a while. He's so shy around new people.

At one point he said, "This just proves my theory about ex-pats. They're all here for some reason."

I'm not sure Diana liked that, but I knew what Good Man meant.

Happy New Year

Good Man and I did our normal holiday thing today: we hung out, ate good food, and teased each other. At one point I decided that I needed to peel all of the Korean hanguel stickers off of my keyboard to replace them with new ones. This left the keyboard a sticky mess. We tried cleaning the stickiness off with rubbing alcohol and Good Man ended up accidentally popping the C off.

C? See? No C.

The green rubber foot thing also popped off, so we couldn't just snap it back into place. Good Man was mopey and sad.

Mopey Good Man

I told him to cheer up.

Grinning Good Man

We tried resnapping the key into place without gluing the rubber foot on, just squishing it into place, but it didn't work. The foot kept rolling the wrong way.

So I broke out the nail polish base, some toothpicks, and some tweezers and went to work to fix it. I figure I really only needed to attach the rubber foot to the key because one it was re-snapped in it would be held in place if only glued on one side.

Delicate C-Operation

It worked!

See C!

And then Good Man wasn't mopey anymore. Heh.

"She Fixed It, I'm Happy"

That was my new year adventure.

Speaking of the new year, it's resolution time! I did not complete last year's resolutions, but who cares? The year was awesome. My new resolutions are as follows (in no special order).

Take a photo every day for a year.

Study Korean through level 3B. To facilitate this, post on my Korean Notebook twice a week. I can post as practice (writing essays), post like this blog (conversations, life) or post notes about studying, whatever.

Earn my second degree black belt.

Have a Good Year with Good Man.