Amanda Takes Off...

You Bought...

Mint Oreos?

Why?

Good Man doesn't like mint. It's not a very common flavor in Korea. He manages mint toothpaste but the rest of it? Not so much.

I guess he didn't realize that the green tinting of the cream indicated "mint."

Before moving to America, Good Man had only traveled abroad twice. Both times he went to Japan. Once to take his TOEFL and the other time just to visit.

So he's kind of making me a little crazy on this trip.

"Where are we going?"

"I showed you the map in the restaurant," I say. "We're going up this street until Strandsgatan or something like that and turning right."

"Oh, OK," he says, "it is my job to doubt."

"Are we supposed to get off now?"

"No, look across at that island. That has a big sign for Gröna Lunds, and that's on the island we're going to. Plus, it said we were going there via Skeppsholmen. This is the via point."

Good Man shakes his head, "How do you know all this?"

He makes fun of me for researching things before I go, but I know this because I look it up before I go!

We are waiting to catch a long-distance bus. The bus looks full. The luggage area is mostly full. A blonde woman comes out of the bus, holds up three fingers and says something like "tree." Another customer behind us is hanging near the wall, looking unconcerned. I put these clues together and figure that the bus must be full. The three people in front of us board, and the woman starts speaking Swedish. I tell her I don't speak Swedish and she says, "Another bus is coming."

"OK."

"What's going on?" Good Man asks.

"Another bus is coming."

"Why?"

"That one is full, honey."

"But it will go to Gotland place?"

At this point I just stare at him because yesterday afternoon when we bought the tickets the man said, "Don't worry if the bus is full, we will always get another one." I smile and nod, "Yes."

We get to the ferry terminal and Good Man asks why I'm throwing my luggage on a cart. "Because this sign says to put your luggage here. We'll pick it up on the other side."

"How do you know that?"

There's no polite way to say "I followed the signs" so instead I say "I am very clever." The truth is, Good Man thinks I worry too much, but I had already researched that we were allowed one carry on and multiple pieces of checked luggage on the ferry. So I knew to look for a luggage place.

We arrive in Gotland and there are no street signs, though we have a map. I turn the map upside down to read it correctly and decide we should probably go to the left. Most people are walking to the left and there's a blue sign with an I in an circle, so information must be to the left and that's marked on my map.

"But how do you know we are going the right way?"

"Because everyone else is going this way, there's an information place over there, and we can ask them where we are exactly. Plus, that way is mostly roads and this looks like a city."

I'm not actually complaining about Good Man. But coming with him to Sweden, seven and a half years after Sweden was my first international/solo trip, is strange for me. I could have done so much more the first time if I hadn't've been nervous and afraid back then.

I remember wandering back and forth in front of Centralterminalen looking for Vasagatan (I think) and not being able to find it. Because it was under me. I had to go down steps. I tried asking one or two passersby and got no help. Eventually I found it. This time I argued with Good Man saying, "Believe me, I remember this!" but if we couldn't've found it, I would've gone back inside the station and asked for help.

(Of course, I asked someone how to dial a phone number and he thought I was calling Sweden from outside of Stockholm and gave me the totally wrong instructions. I tried several times and gave up. Then I checked in a book and found out what to do.)

Once in Costa Rica I took a bus to a small town (Ciudad Quesada/San Carlos). I wasn't sure where I was supposed to get off and when the majority of the people got off the driver looked at me and asked if I was getting off. I was terrified and said no. We continued to the bus station, 2 km from the city center...which is where everyone else had gotten off. I found my way to the city, no thanks to friendly Costa Ricans trying their hardest and guessing at which way I was supposed to go (which my guidebook warned me would happen). When I finally got to the city square, I spent way too long trying to find my hostel. I finally asked some policemen for help and they happily point to a spot 50 yards away. From that I learned that if nearly everyone is getting off at one stop, that's very probably where you're supposed to get off, too.

And thinking of my travels—which have been few and far between compared to many people, I know—I've learned that
a) a smile and "sorry, I don't speak..." will get you a lot
b) when people speak English fluently (like most Swedes do), they like to show it off and don't mind if you ask questions—especially when they're getting paid for it
b1) even if they don't speak fluently, as long as they speak more than anyone else around them, they'll find a way to help you
c) if you get lost you'll eventually get found again
d) streets that would look scary at home are safe in other places
e) when all else fails, follow everyone else and look for the signs

Good Man, I'm just following everyone else.

Good Man glared at an animal. "Why are there so many squirrels in America?"

"Why do you say that?" I asked, "And perfect, by the way!" Months ago, squirrel was "squillel."

"They are like 비둘기!"

"비둘기?"

"Um, pigeon? They are like those!"

I laughed, "Why?"

Good Man said very indignantly, "They eat junk! And they're chubby!"

He sounded so angry about these chubby, junk-eating squirrels. I couldn't stop laughing.

He continued, "When I came to America, I thought, 'Wow, this is like heaven! Look at all this grass and all these trees!' And then I saw those squirrels! And they were climbing around a trash can! And they are like 비둘기. In Korea those birds eat trash and they get so fat they can't even fly! We don't even call them 비둘기. We call them 닭둘기—chicken-bird, because they are like chickens!"

At this point I had actually stopped in the middle of the sidewalk because I was doubled over with laughter.

"Yeah," Good Man growled, "we should call them chicken-irrel!"

We got back the standardized test scores from the state.

Every single one of my students passed in every single subject area.

Relief.

(Though I should've done better teaching Social Studies.)

Good Man and I finished our music playlist. It's at 97 songs and 57 artists and over 6 hrs long, which means we won't get through even one play. I might cull it down a bit.

We're not planning on dancing (no first dance, father-daughter/mother-son, etc) and we're also not having a processional or recessional so the music is mostly background music for the eating part of the party. Because we're not dancing, I didn't really put much thought in ratio of slow songs to fast ones, and I don't care about order at all—we're just throwing it in the deck on shuffle.

The list is almost entirely English-language songs, because Good Man refused to choose Korean songs and every Korean song I like is about stalking or breaking up and how everything was a lie. We do have a pretty good spread of dates. In fact, the artist we have the most songs from? Bing Crosby tops the list with ten. U2 and Van Morrison come in second at 5 each.

Tomorrow the tent people come to survey the site, so that should be settled before he week's out. While we're in the area we're also going to get a Costco membership and survey the food situation/estimate cost (we're doing party platters).

The centerpiece photo thing is about half done. I'm waiting on photos from Sister and from Mom. Once I get those scanned in, we're good to go. Nixed the photo book idea due to time.

Rain plans are to simply use the first level of Mark's Lover's house. He's crammed 150 people on that level before, so our little party should be completely doable.

Good Man's Mother told us she's going to throw "lots of" chestnuts and dates at us at the pyebaek. She also said she caught five at their wedding. Good Man is missing three siblings.

We have a final guest count: twenty people, inclusive of us. That's the size of my classroom, inclusive of me. Five family members for Good Man, seven family members for me. Mark and Lover, of course. College Friend and her husband. Special Forces Instructor and Language Partner.

I am having total last-minute anxiety about everything. Should we have dancing? Should we have an aisle? What about a processional and recessional? Should we have changes of clothing for the reception? Should we have formal food on the pyebaek table? Should we have some games for people to play since this isn't a normal wedding reception? Should we track down a huge hunk of acrylic to put over the Quaker wedding certificate so it doesn't get grubby?

Good Man has basically responded to everything with some variation of no. "No." "No." "Quit worrying." "No. You wanted hanbok. We have hanbok." "There is nowhere to get special decorated chicken and if we do it will be thousand dollars because this is America. No." "Only if we don't buy special games and just bring what we have." "What is 'grubby?'... No. There is only 20 people. It will not get dirty."

My newest melt down is over assigned seating. Should we have assigned seating? Language Partner and Special Forces only know me but both are bilingual. Everyone else knows at least one other person. We have three tables which seat eight to ten people and twenty-eight chairs. There is no wedding party. There is no head table. Food is going to be self-serve buffet style at a long table. All of the guest tables are round with umbrellas. Having reserved seating for family doesn't really make sense when more than half the list is family. I'm not sure my 외-Grandma and Dad could stand sitting next to each other. If everyone were bilingual I'd mix the families, but mixing the family when only Father is bilingual makes no sense. Is it even necessary to have a seating plan for twenty people? Seating plans are not the norm in Korea or Minnesota. Does a seating plan even match the totally casual tone of this wedding? There are no speeches or toasts planned so hearing isn't an issue.

These are the thoughts running through my head (and out of my mouth in a very panicky way).

Good Man's response? "Just let everyone figure out where to sit. This is just wedding planners' fear mongering wedding rules. They will sit where they want to sit. There is not that much people. You don't have assigned seating at a party and this is a party."

Man: You know, I wish I had been on a bad date, so I could know what it feels like for a girl to not like you.

Woman: Ung. [Eyes rolling]

Before taekwondo tonight I did 500 turns of the jump rope. A fantastic warm up, I made it to 453 before tripping. Ahhh, so close. Then Kwanjangnim (New Master) made me run warm ups for the class. First time I've ever done that.

I called the dentist to see if I could get Good Man an appointment at the same time I have one on Wednesday. "First name... and same last name?"

One of my students asked me if she was going to have to call me by a new last name. "No, I'm keeping my own," I told her. I didn't tell her my first name with his last name makes a great stripper name.

In Korea it's not traditional for women to take her husband's last name. In fact, Good Man's not even sure it's possible. So when I asked Good Man if he wanted me to take his name, he looked at me like I was nuts. (Which is good, because I wasn't going to take his name in any case.)

A few weekends ago Good Man and I worked on ordering our Quaker-style wedding certificate. We were reading on the website that many couples will sign as a couple, so you should order enough lines for 75% of the guests.

Good Man was confused. "What does that mean? 'Sign as a couple?'"

I signed 'Mr. and Mrs. John Kim' on a piece of paper. (No Good Man's name is not John; no, his family name is not Kim.)

"Where's the woman's name?"

"She's here, in the Mrs. John."

Good Man stared at me for a moment. When he realized I wasn't kidding he yelled, "that's bull! That's so sexist—what about her name? Where is her name?" He then started muttering. "Stupid. Go to hell."

I said it could be "John and Jane Kim" and he still just stared at me.

More than half of our guest list is made up of couples, and I really don't want only sixteen signatures on this document. I said that we could just quietly spread the word to sign one-by-one. Good Man looked at me, "Yes! We don't allow any stupidity at our wedding!"

I couldn't stop laughing. I'd never expect Good Man to feel so passionate about names. Then again, in Korea if you share a name and house with a woman your age, she's your sister.

Last weekend we went out for dinner with Mark and his Lover. Good Man looked at the menu. "There is too much to choose from in America," he said. He told me to start picking for him.

I laughed. "That's rather old-fashioned and backwards," I said to him. "A long time ago, the man would order for the lady. Sometimes he'd let her choose, and other times he'd just choose for her."

"Yeah, that's OK, you can just choose for me any time we go out. Menus are too big in America!"

"Menus were just as big in Korea," I argued, "Go to one of those orange places and they have walls of menus."

"But it's all the same—ramyeon, cheese ramyeon, curry ramyeon—here you have all those options in one menu option," he said, pointing to the "choose two sides from the list below to go with any meal above" section.

One thing that I heard foreigners complain about in Korea is that you can't special order foods. Like the cough syrup incident, I hadn't considered the flip side, feeling like there are too many options when you can special order.