What do Alaska, Mississippi, and Oklahoma have in common?

Before I give the answer to the riddle, I have another infamous list:
1. Number of states I have lived in: 7.
2. Number of different cities or towns I have lived in: 15.
3. Number of different apartments/houses I have lived in: 17.
4. Number of schools I have worked for: 3, soon to be 4.
5. Number of schools (school systems) I have attended: 6, soon to 7.
6. To clarify: Number of schools (not school systems) attended: 9, soon to be 10.
AND, 6. Number of states I have visited as of today: 47. The three that are missing: Alaska, Mississippi, and Oklahoma.

One more part to the Furler adventure

So many awesome moments with the Furlers, but here is another one.
On Saturday night at Laura and Corbett's apartment in NYC, Sarah decided she wanted a cupcake. Apparently Magnolia Bakery and another bakery are the big things in NYC, so Laura hoped online to get an address (I think there were about 314 locations in Manhattan alone), and Al thought getting cupcakes for his pregnant daughter was a great plan.
But the GPS drama began: first Sue was trying to get directions, but the GPS thought we were still in NJ. This was not very effective, but it was hugely entertaining.
Then, Al got the directions with the GPS (he already knew where it was located and how to get there), and we began this elaborate game while driving to the bakery: Al would try to foil the GPS, taking any route except the route indicated by the GPS. I can't tell you how many times we heard, "Recalculating route," from the computer voice. Awesome.
And I have never seen so many people in line for cupcakes, let alone at 9pm on a Saturday night. Weird.
We decided that Al has no practical use for the GPS; he just likes to outsmart it and to trick it.
Miss you guys.

A fantastic Furler adventure

The snow is falling outside, Dad is traveling again (Florida this time), Mom is taking a nap, and I'm trying to manage my self-imposed stress while drinking my 18th cup of coffee today. Mom thinks it is funny how I don't have a job, but I tend to work a lot more than most people: getting reading to teach, getting ready to take classes, reading hundreds of pages with my writing groups, trying to finish paperwork and training to teach online, and reading and writing my own fun stuff. It's good, but it feels like a juggling act right now.
Except when I can escape on my little trips. Going to visit the Furlers is like going to visit my other family. I know them and their extended family and their lives and their habits almost as well as I know my family's. It's strange the way Sue apologizes that they ordered Chinese or pizza for dinner, and I don't expect anything less.
Sue and Al asked me if I wanted to go into New York to visit the twins, and I wanted to laugh. Of course I want to see the twins. Of course I want to see Laura and Corbett. Of course I want to see Sarah and Kyle.
So, off we went: we had a great photo op in the lobby with Santa and the twins in the lobby (see pictures below), and then Sue watched them while the rest of us went for pizza. We visited the Whitney, and Sue and Sarah and I did our best to avoid the mile and a half walk in the thirty degree weather. Then, in the evening, we sat around trying to decide what to do for dinner, and the most entertaining conversation commenced. Al wanted to go to the fish and chips place in Brooklyn, someone vetoed because this was too far away, Laura thought that Sarah and I should figure something out, Corbett vetoed because he thought that Sarah and I didn't know the options, Al thought that we could decide something, Kyle and Corbett debated between Mexican and Italian and a couple of other things. This whole thing was pretty hilarious.
Sunday was at Sparta Evangelical Free Church. I saw the Scherlachers, the Schuberts, the Landruds, the Biggs, the Colliers, and plenty of others that have married names I do not recall--all send greetings to the McGrail family. Then, at the Jefferson Diner (voted best in NJ, but I still vote it as 2nd to the Sparta Diner), we ran into the Bensons who said to send a big hello to Mandy.
Monday and Tuesday, Sue and I hung out during the day, and at night, Sue and Al and Sarah and Kyle and I went out for dinner (surprise! Boonton has great sushi). I made Sue drive me down to Dover, wanting to relive some moments of shopping at the flea market and the Salvation Army there. Instead, we went for Mexican soup. Then we went shopping at some outlets, and Sue decided that I'm a worse shopper than she is. I'm a little proud of this.
Tuesday, Sue and I went to Lafayette Village (see pictures below).
Wednesday, I tried to say goodbye to Sue and Al. As I'm writing all of this, I'm missing all the funny details that I miss so much about them. Sue has this uncanny ability to make me feel interesting and smart and awesome. Al plans these fantastic and hilarious adventures that feel like capricious celebrations of the weekend and family while balancing a cup of boiling tea with one hand, reprogramming his new GPS with his thumbs, and driving along curvy 517 at the same time. Laura represents this tall, glamorous, other bossy sister that I had, and the other older sister who could make me feel so good and funny and interesting, like Sue. Sarah has this window into my youth that shows different times, like in Sharonsville when Mandy was Dr. Brown, Laura ran the town library, and I turned the lights out at "night" to deliver presents to the town. I was in my own little world then. Things haven't really changed much.
Then, I was off to visit Em and Logan. They are sort of like me: still in school, still working out the life plan around some incredibly lofty goals, and surrounded by nieces and nephews. We have an understanding. And Em greeted me with a huge hug, a Cajun soup, and a warm bed.
Hospitality is a common thread in this McGurfur clan. Miss you all.

A few Furler pictures

I'll write more about the Furler adventures later, but here are a few awesome pictures of the twins and Lafayette Village. I was pretty awful (as usual) about taking pictures, and when I started uploading them today, I was thoroughly chagrined to find how few pictures I had taken.
Sigh.
I will leave the pictures to Sue. The videos are left to Al.

It's beginning to look a lot like winter....

This is from the safety of the indoors at Aunt Barb's house. Probably won't go outside until spring. This means that if I lock myself inside with plenty of books, coffee, and writing supplies, it may be a productive winter.
Here's another cute picture from the visit to Aunt Barb's, but I cannot explain it.

A quick update...

As of today, I have agreed to attend the University of New Orleans low-residency program (my first choice). Because it is low-residency, I do all the work online and then spend a month in Mexico this summer. Should be a two-year program, and maybe next year I will spend a month in Italy. Yeah, I think I can hack this. And yeah, I think I'm getting excited.

Avoidance of ambiguity

This blog is turning into a source of frustration because I simply had no idea there were more than two or three people reading this. Well, I'm going to attempt to be less ambiguous and more clear. At least for now.
The last couple of weeks have been strange. I was in California last week enjoying my friends John and Sung Hee--they bought a new house and are pregnant (married, to avoid ambiguity). They are so generous and hospitable, I considered their offer to let me move out there, but really, I need my space and my quiet.
Sung Hee is this beautiful, petite, tiny Korean gal who weighs as much as I do at four months pregnant. I love this gal so much--John, too, and John and I can't agree on a single thing, so we end up having long and circular conversations. What great fun.
I was at Martin today, going over syllabi and picking up textbooks. This place is so strange: despite the ongoing politics and conflict that I hear about every time I am there, I always feel stronger, better, and respected after I leave there. I'm starting to look forward to the classes this semester.
And the training for Axia College continues. This is turning into a huge, unpaid, timely investment that makes me want to make up a fake resume that may get me hired in a coffee shop or a video store. Maybe next month.
MFA stuff: as of last week, I found out that I have been accepted into both of the programs. This is exciting, but I need to make a decision by, well, yesterday would have been good. I visited Spalding on Tuesday, and Anne Patchett gave a wonderful talk on Bel Canto. She is so humble and funny and human that I almost feel like I can do it, too.
And the writing group: this group of strange writers are so exciting. I'm starting to look forward to spending two evenings a month with this group of men that are ten to thirty years older than me--oh, there is one girl that is my age. This group is so great.
Besides this, I'm pretty boring and pretty straight, still. Here's a good picture of John, Sung Hee, and I. I love my new haircut--compliments of Kate. She did a great job.

On being a single, heterosexual woman

One of my neighbors in South Korea told me that my personality makes me seem much larger than my height. I like this. I took this as a compliment. They also said that I'm boringly straight.
Being single means that I can take off to South Korea with only my mother worrying about me. Being single means that I can take four months off to work from "home"--home being the free rent at my parents' home at the moment. Being single means traveling around the USA and squandering my savings and no one can really get upset about this. Being single means that I can pretend to be a writer and no one can really tell the difference one way or the other.
I was cleaning out my email, and found a series of emails, one or two a day, even on Christmas, for about three months. He reminded me a little of Barack: handsome, educated, fascinating, traveled. He probably had a daughter and even a granddaughter, but this didn't seem too bad because he ran marathons and looked like he could be thirty.
Then, through a bit of gossip, I found out he was probably married.
Being single means that I can be choosy. Married guys are most definitely out of the question. No matter how many times they email me.
And then the adorable Korean guys. If their English skills had been better, I might have asked one of them out myself, but conversations often seemed limited to politics and baseball and movies. I have an appreciation for these things, but really, I spend more time with books and writing.
Being single means that I can be choosy. I don't have to date guys solely on their looks. But, this is a factor.
So, no married guys, a guy who can write a good email, good conversation, more than just a pretty face--God only knows.

On not being gay....

Serves me right for trying to be terribly ironic and writerly and blah, blah.
Just to clarify, I'm not gay.
To follow, "On being a single, heterosexual woman."

On being a single, homosexual woman...

Coming soon. I'm still trying to edit this one.

On coming out of the closet

Anyone who knows me is probably a little interested. Excuse the probably inappropriate analogy.
Let me explain.
I joined a writers' group here in Indianapolis, and I was little terrified--no quite a bit terrified. I imagine these horrible and humiliating scenes. My mind always seems to jump to the worst situation imaginable as I'm drinking too much coffee on an empty stomach and spilling coffee all over one of the stately gentlemen there (oh, wait, that happened already): they laugh at me, they think I am ignorant, they think my ideas are banal, and all the rest. I can usually imagine pitchforks and black hoods in this scenario, but, well, I did read quite a few gothic horror novels.
Last night was not nearly as bad as that. It was quite encouraging actually (and I am going to be cagy and illusive about this as always), but I admitted to one of the other men (yes, the group is primarily men ten to perhaps thirty years my senior) that I have written all my life but have had a difficult time admitting that I am a writer.
"I'm still coming out of the closet," I told him. "I have been trying to come out of the closet for the past year or so."
When I imagine the group of writers yelling and chasing after me with pitchforks to tell me how much they disapprove of me and how ignorant and banal they think that I am, this may not be too different from actually "coming out," if you will excuse the metaphor. I feel like my life is different, like I'm not hiding my true self, like I'm finally starting to live my real life.
Hmmm. I will be following this post with another entitled, "On being a single, homosexual woman."

The Worst American ever makes a feeble attempt

Today, Indiana licence in hand, I decided to attempt to vote. I had only registered a day late, and maybe they wouldn't check every one's registration, and maybe I could blend in with everyone.
I decided to play dumb (which I am good at), and I had prepared a repertoire of semi-defensive, partially accusatory, and possibly obnoxious questions (such as: What do you mean, I can't vote? or I was out of the country, how am I supposed to register out of the country? or How can you deny me my right to vote? or other awful but prepared questions).
So I went to the courthouse, and I was chagrined to find a short line--I wanted to hide in a long line and be another lost face that would stand in line to vote. No go. I walked right up to the registration table, and two people started talking to me amiably, unaware of my unproven guilt. "My address is correct," I said.
"Kristine?" the lady asked.
"No, that is my mother."
"Thomas?"
"No, that is my father."
"There isn't anyone else by that name."
"Oh. Well, I registered late."
And she proceed to call another lady over to contact some unknown person that could reveal my hidden secret.
But I was maintaining my role of playing dumb.
I waited.
A business man came up to the table, and nervously he told them that he would return shortly. Another man, soft face and hands and belly and unnaturally dark black hair stood behind me until I waved him ahead of me. A lady with very large and round glasses stood next to me. I believe she was shorter and thinner than I. She energetically nodded when I told her that I was waiting for them to answer a question. "How long is the wait?" she asked.
"I don't know."
Somewhere around this time, I was tempted to slip in line. Sure, the lady who was calling the unknown authorities still had my licence. Sure, they would probably catch me.
There was a chance that maybe I could cast a ballot before they figured out that I wasn't supposed to.
I hesitated too long. Lisa Hurley was there, and she came over to talk to me. Then the lady with the unknown connections to higher knowledge in voter registration came over to inform me that I had registered too late.
Lisa chimed in. "Didn't you tell them that you have been out of the country?"
"That was my trump card." And then I told the lady, "I have been living out of the country. Isn't there anything I can do?"
"No."
"Okay."
All my courage and bratty questions went out the door. I stood outside with Lisa, talking about the stuff that is going on in our lives. I was trying not to feel to guilty about all of it, so Lisa said I should find a party headquarters and volunteer for a bit.
Not a bad idea, but I have no idea where to look for a Bob Barr or Chuck Baldwin headquarters.

Beading in Iowa

My Aunt Barb's house is only second to Mom and Dad's house. She always has a clean bed or four beds to offer for the night, eggs and bacon in the morning, hot coffee all day long (as is the tradition to drink coffee all day when we girls spend any time together), fresh cookies and candy in jars waiting for the taking--and of course the general air of relaxation and comfort. She is always ready to offer us a beverage or run out to an antique shop.
And Marv is there, too, working on any number of projects in his Man Cave. He asks me, "You are pretty smart, right?" when he wants help with his email. He worries that Leah , his only daughter, is mistakenly signing up to go to Brazil, and she will end up being sold into sexual slavery. And he's making a doll house for one of his grandchildren.
So when Aunt Barb invited us for a weekend of beading, the only question was, "When?"
Kate and James drove the whole way there since I was stressing about all the random work that I need to complete in the next two months and really want done now. Funny, I don't think I have realized how much I look at my hands while I type until I was trying to type on my laptop in the backseat of a darkened car going along a black highway.
Then, yesterday, Meg and Aunt Barb and I unpacked her treasure trove of beads. I have only seen this variety and this quantity of beads in specialty shops. We made all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, earrings and accessories. And Aunt Barb loved all of them--even the odd designs that I am prone to come up with.
And we drank lots of coffee. And we had some great conversations. And we ordered pizza. It could only have been better if Adam and Luke made a surprise visit.
Everybody should have an Aunt Barb. When I was leaving this morning, they packed up cookies for me to take on the road. They stood in the door talking to me, even though they were probably starting to run late for church, but in the process making me feel like they would have me stay longer.

A brief recap

The last couple of months have been a strange blur. I was just reading Mandy's blog, and it occurred to me that I have seen everyone in my family except Mandy, Grandma and Grandpa in Texas, cousin Luke in Des Moines, and Uncle Tim and family in Chicago. I think I have seen everybody else in the last months.
And, I probably will get to see everybody else in the next month or so. Except Mandy.
In the meantime, I plan to head out to Los Angeles and New Jersey shortly. This is in the middle of writing syllabi for January, training for online teaching, MFA finances, and convincing myself not to go to another random country to teach for another year.
That's it. Oh, except that I picked up Kate, James, Henry, and Finn from the airport this morning, and I'm heading to Des Moines this weekend.

It's snowing in Minnesota

The top things about Minneapolis that I forgot that I really like:
1. Uptown
2. Microbrews
3. Lots of beautiful lakes
4. The environmental consciousness
5. The diversity
6. Caribou Coffee
7. The farmers' market
8. Heartbreakers'
9. Tons of second hand book stores where I can find complete collections of Stephen Pinker, Anthony Burgess, AND Graham Greene (not much by Edith Wharton though)
10. The Lagoon Theatre
11. The fantastic bus system
12. The Irish restaurants
13. The days that last twenty-six hours and fourteen minutes in June
14. Bluffs along the Mississippi River with the occasional eagle swooping around

The top things about Minneapolis/Minnesota that I remember why I will never move back here again:
1. Snow in October (yes, it was snowing today)
2. Snow in April
3. Temperatures around -60 with wind chill
4. Having cars not start because of frozen gas lines
5. Melting gray slush on the roads and pretty much everywhere in April
6. People huddled around little holes in frozen lakes to catch fish (I never understood this)
7. People bundling up in about thirteen layers of clothing to go expose themselves to wind and snow on unprotected snowmobiles (I never understood this either)
8. Mosquitoes that can be frozen in an ice cube, only to fly out of an unsuspecting woman's lemonade or wake from a snow bank like Frankenstein's monster
9. Days that last about four hours and ten minutes in December
10. Dumping windshield wiper fluid on my junker-car-of-the-moment to try to break through the ice burg on my windshield
11. Alternate side parking
12. Seeing people throwing frisbees and wearing shorts when the weather breaks forty degrees because "Spring is here--woo, hoo!"

The Worst American Ever

Once upon a time, I remember how exciting all the politics and discussions all seemed. That was before I met my first senator. This quickly dulled my enthusiasm. Even after a couple of trips to the floor of the Supreme Court.
I remember being quite excited about voting. I did some research on the local elections even. Then, I found out that several of my friends had voted multiple times in the presidential election. This again quickly dulled my enthusiasm.
Then--well, not very long ago--I tried to register to vote but couldn't because I couldn't prove my residency. This quickly quelled my voting potentiality.
And this year, within the fervor of the political fever, I lost track of the deadline and didn't register in time. "We will process your registration," assured the lady at the courthouse, "but it won't be until after the election."
Okay.
This has squelched my willingness to vote (my ability to vote, too, yes) in this election.
I delude myself: I would have tried to find a third party candidate for whom to vote, so my vote wouldn't count anyway; I do not spend the time researching the election that I should; and I cannot think of voting within this two-party system currently.
Yes, I will not be voting in the upcoming election. Yes, I am the worst American in the world. Yes, I should reserve my opinions and not share them because I will not even stand up to vote.
But I do have a blog that at least two people read. So, ha. I will share.
I find the definitions of the parties muddled. I find the discussions the candidates have about the "issues" are contrived and driven by marketers and image-consultants. And the things that seem to be important to people are lost in this mess of confusion and blame and previous voting histories. Thoreau's definition of government seems about as practical as the transcendentalists' ideals of the sublime although I find both these lofty ideals something worth striving for. These are the ideals and intangibles of the government that I long for politicians to strive for.
Yeah, in a fairy tale.

Busy, bored, and blase

Funny, I'm in this paradoxical stage at this moment: I'm sort of in a holding pattern, waiting for things to come through, praying that the best options will work out, and filling out tons of paperwork and applications. I'm keeping relatively busy, but I'm also bored out of my mind.
All of this planning is only peripherally exciting for me right now. The decision-making process is always too drawn out for me; if God wants something to happen, it will happen whether I spend a month pondering something or a day. So while I am looking forward to the next chapter or whatever, I'm ready to get it going. I would rather be riding on a Siberian train, sitting on a beach in Sri Lanka, or doing something--but whatever it is, well, it's just over the horizon and just out of my reach. Cicero, Indiana does not hold the same excitement and adventure that I crave.
In fact, I was having a funny conversation today with Mom in which I was trying to explain to her why Cicero is boring for me right now--a seedy part of downtown Indy might be alright, preferably within walking distance of Martin--and I was trying to explain this very nicely as I had just finished Life of Pi.
And here is where all my wise sisters are supposed to jump in and tell me about how God is teaching me patience or some other powerful lesson right now. Fantastic. I want to learn it yesterday so I can move onto the next thing.

It's 40 in Indy

There are a few things I like about fall: the pumpkin spice cappuccinos, laying in the sun like a cat with cold feet, starting a fire in the evening, drinking many cups of hot tea/coffee/cocoa, and wrapping a big sweater around me.
But none of these things outweigh the sense of impending doom that the fall always seems to carry.
Granted, Indiana is nothing like Minnesota. Nonetheless, I still dread the mornings when I do not want to take my icy toes out of bed, when I want to wear my winter coat around the house, when I can't imagine going outside let alone standing outside to chip the ice off the windshield of some car, when everything seems to fade to hues of gray and black, when I want to turn up the thermostat and drink some hot cider and listen to some strangely exotic music.
Okay, I'm only exaggerating a little.
A month ago, in Korea, it was muggy and 90 degrees everyday. Then, Indy was hot and wonderful when I got here. I spent a couple of warm weeks in Hawaii, and I'm ready to coast through this winter. But it was a little too much to fly into the airport in Indy two days ago and have the temperature be 40.
I think I may move to Central America.

Mandy's other garden

I'm posting some great videos on Facebook of the boys, but here I'm putting up a couple of pictures of the flowers here in Mandy's other garden.

Hugs

Just thought I would publish a quick clarification: I have hugged Finn, Henry, and Jake four times each for Meg, five times each for Tom-Tom, five times each for Grammy Kris, and another dozen extra for outside interests.
From Mandy, I have hugged Finny and Henry five times each, but Jakey got three hugs from Mandy on Thursday, four hugs from Mandy on Friday, five hugs from Mandy on Saturday, only two hugs from Mandy on Sunday because we were busy running around to church and I was tired, and four hugs from Mandy yesterday. Today isn't finished, but there's been two hugs from Mandy so far...

I'm in a Hawaii state of mind

It is so strange.
Going to Indiana and Minnesota was like a dream. I was so happy to see my parents and family, but I also felt a little sad and anxious generally because everything seemed to be the same. I felt the same, my family seemed the same, even the season is the same as when I left. South Korea has felt like a strange dream that maybe I have made up--fictionalized, probably, like I do so many other things in my head. The whole experience must have been a strange dream that didn't exist because I have come back to America, back to my parents' home (as lovely as it is and as grateful as I am), and back to the university that has the same politics I'm not sure I want to jump back into.
Hawaii feels different, though. Obviously and most directly, Mandy is not here. This simple fact seems to permeate every aspect of what I know to be Hawaii.
I wish Mandy could come in the door, and I would try to make her laugh in my feeble way. Usually I ended up annoying her, but I was just glad to have her nearby for a few minutes. Between her six hours of sleep and her eighteen hours of work.
Well, I'm doing a good job of this with Kate and James, too, but Finn thinks my jokes about putting cat food and whisky in the baby food are funny, so at least I'm entertaining someone.

Canoeing

Really, in the last few days, I haven't done anything. I have a list (surprise! a list) of things that I am trying to get accomplished, but right now, I'm only chipping the fun ones off the list. And, of course, I'm doing plenty of really great things.
Like taking the VW out for drives. I forgot how fun it is to drive--and how fun it is to drive this little bug.
Like playing cards with Mom and Dad.
Like taking one of the old bicycles down and peddling around this little town.
Like canoeing.
The first times that I remember boating or paddling were with the Furlers: that memorable little motorboat on Lake George and the funny rowboat somewhere behind their house in a random marsh. Those were such imaginative and wonderful days.
Then, our family and the Furlers started appreciating the quiet float trips, especially on the Delaware Water Gap and the Youghiogheny River (spelling is questionable, but this was certainly the most life-threatening and exciting canoe ride I have experienced).
And now, I find myself paddling around the lake here in Indiana, trying not to scare the egrets and the herons, and trying to maintain control when the wind picks up. I sit high in the water when I'm alone, so trying not to blow around the lake can be a bit of a challenge. But there certainly is something about watching the fish jump out of the water, exploring small inlets, and watching the clouds float overhead, there is something about this time that is so familiar.

Back in the USA

After a long trip (I don't think I'm exaggerating with the moving, the 20-hour layover, the 12-hour flight from Japan, and Dad and I's drive back from Chicago), I am home with Mom and Dad. We ate tacos with avocado and played cards while I was falling asleep.
It's strange that the memories of the past year are fading into a sort of warm memory. I am back at Mom and Dad's, by the lake, watching Good Morning America, and drinking coffee with Mom. Nothing seems terribly different: sure the paint is different and the house looks great and the screened-in porch is awesome, but everything seems the same.
I can see the tomatoes ripening on the vine outside, and I can see an egret wading in the lake outside, and George is sitting on the window sill next to me. It is very quiet.
A canoe ride is in order before it gets too hot, and I will try to talk Mom and Dad into getting take-out Chinese in the next couple of days (yeah, I like Asian food, but American-Chinese take-out is in another category that does not quite fall into either genre), and I still need to exchange a bunch of won to dollars.
Generally, though, South Korea seems like a strange and beautiful dream. On to the next adventure--any ideas?

Another list

This week has been full of surprising and strange turns. I'm certain I will write more about them when I have some perspective, but at the moment, I'm a little tired and drained.
So I'm making another list.
This on is entitled, "Things I can't wait to do when I get back to America."

1. Hug Mom and Dad.
2. Go to a wedding with half of my family.
3. Visit the other half my family.
4. Visit the Furlers.
5. Eat take-out Chinese food.
6. Take a bath.
7. Watch the news and try to get caught up on the whole presidential thing that has been going on.
8. Skype someone in the same time zone--just for the heck of it.
9. Sit on the dock with Mom and Dad and watch the sun set over the lake.
10. Drive.
11. Go to a store and talk to the clerk.
12. Go to a store and find what I expect to find.
13. Watch television without subtitles.
14. Look at a menu and not take ten minutes and ten guesses to figure out what one item might be.

It's taken a year, but I think I am officially homesick.

Lists

When I am getting ready to move (well, or do anything exciting or whatever), I tend to make lists.
I probably get this from my dad, who always carries an index card with his itinerary and his important phone numbers in his shirt pocket.
Well, I'm tired of the lists I've been making this week (that always seem to have plane ticket and immigration at the top, ha, ha). So, I'm putting my energy into some different lists.

The things I will not miss about South Korea (at all)
1. The smells that waft up from the gutters, especially on warm days.
2. The pile of garbage that collects outside my front door.
3. The cockroaches that have opened a bar and a restaurant outside my front door because of the ample supply of wonderful treats.
4. The stares that I get walking down the street.
5. The idiocy that I feel when I walk into a store and don't know how to ask where to find the laundry soap or the cockroach spray (still don't know how to say these things).
6. The idiocy that I feel when I realize that I can ask to find the laundry soap or the cockroach spray in Spanish, but not Korean--and frankly, this doesn't help me one bit.
7. The majority of the children.
8. The spark that jumps from the electrical outlets if I do not plug in the converter just right.
9. The puddles on my floor from the refrigerator or the shower.

The things I will miss about Korea (at least a little bit)
1. The smells like the spicy mint soup and the spice shop and the sam gup sal restaurants.
2. The half-hour rides in taxis, and realizing that it has cost me seven dollars.
3. The walk to the corner store and back, in less than five minutes.
4. The two dollar lunches.
5. The endless markets.
6. The strange fish in the tanks, waiting to be eaten.
7. The adjumas.
8. The walk to school, watching different people and listening to some sermon or podcast or something.
9. The late night chats in the ghetto with my neighbors.

Yep, it has been a great year. But, I am ready to go home.

Counting the days...

Well, I assume I have about fifteen more days left, but I'm still waiting for my plane ticket. No surprises there.
In the mean time, I have already started to pack, and I'm beginning to try to saturate myself with the Korean faces and places that I may miss when I leave. And yes, I'm feeling a little sentamental about leaving, but I'm also desperate for quiet time with people that can speak English.
So tonight, I had a magnificent dinner with Sun Sung Duck, and we played this great card game that was like a cross between Taipai and "Go Fish." Then we met Gim Bong Su on the street and walked to her house and sat there for a little longer, eating more.
Good times.

Relative Normalcy

It's strange the way my life here has become disconnected. In my little apartment, I can smell the bleach and the cockroach spray most of the time, and I can hear the produce man much of the day, but inside my walls, it is quiet and peaceful. I think and pray about my family so often, thinking about Mandy all alone, thinking about Kate and James taking care of the kids, thinking about Scott missing Mandy, thinking about Mom and Dad and their scattered children and grandchildren, thinking about Meg and Mike and how much I want to cry when I think about them sharing my little slice of Korea with me. And, of course, the prayer list goes on: I miss everyone so much.
Then I walk outside my strange little apartment. Korea is still foreign to me, but it is becoming familiar, and yes, almost comfortable. I still hate going to the grocery store and I don't like shopping, but that hasn't changed since I moved here. When my neighbor's kitchen is flooded for a couple of weeks running, I nod my head sympathetically and offer to help clean up. When I pass a strange bar with a man playing an accordian to an empty room, I walk past a couple of times, looking at his turned back and cocker spaniel. When Jenny and Young Hee start playing old Michael Jackson and Madonna songs and dancing like they are on some reality show, I laugh and try to join in. When I walk into the school in the morning, dreading another day babysitting kids, pleading with them to learn, trying to get them to listen, and attempting to keep alert, then suddenly, another day is over.
This has become the relative normalcy here.

An American watching the Seoul Olympics in South Korea

Tonight I was over at Shin Bun Ock's house having an awesome dinner, as always. After a bit of talking, she invited me into her living room to watch the Olympics: one channel playing weightlifting and swimming, and the other channel playing a baseball game between South Korea and America.
Don't start calling me anti-patriotic, but I was pulling for the Koreans. The Americans have plenty of medals, and I'm amazed at how this little country can pull off so much with some passion, some energy, and some patriotism. I was excited to see them do some exciting things tonight.
Well, as history would have it, a Korean beat out a Chinese in the weightlifting, a Korean placed second in the swimming, and the Korean baseball team beat the American team in an exciting ninth inning finish (with players from the Busan team that I have seen play a couple of times now).
Wow. Shin Bun Ock and I were cheering.
I'm not turning into a sports fan or anything, but the Korean spirit is certainly inspiring.

Busan Dialect

http://www.koreanclass101.com/index.php?s=busan&order=des

This website is for the Korean lessons I often download onto my awesome iPod touch that Mom and Dad got me for Christmas (they are free through iTunes). The funny thing about these episodes (particularly episode # 14 and #15 linked here) are the particular emphasis on the Busan dialect. In this lesson (if you listen to the lesson, which I highly recommend listening to the audio even though it has a bit of Korean interspersed with some interesting explications and interpretations), they discuss the "Busan spirit" and the dialectical variations.
Very interesting.

"The Koreans"--a brief explanation

Well, I did find this book interesting but slightly outdated--the book is ten years old, so some of the political stuff is a little behind.
I find the information about the contracts enlightening but not surprising. I have discovered--very first-hand--that contracts are not easy. Not very forthright. Not very popular topics. I think I understand this.
The educational system, Koreans' history, and Koreans' self-concept are all a bit befuddling. Koreans are very confident and aware (I'm over-generalizing, of course), but generally do not have a perspective or analytical approach to education or history. Being analytical, I find this frustrating at times, especially as a teacher. This book has definitely helped to shed some light on this: these general tendencies have developed over thousands of years as survival techniques that have worked, both in the political world, in the economic framework of the past fifty years, and in the historical setting of this amazingly strong people.
And the whole thing about reunification and the North/South devision was very enlightening. "Reunification" has become a euphemism for destroying a side of themselves, their brothers. Theirs is not a real reunification because any compromise means abolishing one or the other way of life--democratic or communistic. Now, "reunification" is about making it easier for both countries to accept the dissolving of the country that has made up the less fortunate family members. Not the bad guys, just the misunderstood, destructive brother.
One last quote:
"The more popular bits of countryside are so assaulted by visitors that one gets dissuaded from taking to them for relaxation. You know when summer's arrived because every year at the right time the newspapers carry pictures of 'half a million' sunbathers sweltering on the sandy crescent of Haeundae Beach, on the edge of the city of Busan.
"But this mobbing of one or two resorts does not explain why the rest of the countryside seems to recede into irrelevance. I used to think it was psychological, that somehow because the peninsula was so militarized and latent with violence, it could not appear embracing and beautiful, as the Scottish Highlands do. I now think in my case it was because I was overtaken by the sheer impact of dealing with the Koreans themselves. Mountains don't come into your office without appointments and expect you to talk all afternoon. Nor do they ring you up at midnight and say, 'It's Kim.' Koreans do, all the time."
It's moments like this, I sort of nod. Most of the people around me are also sick of me smiling a little smugly and saying something about how happy I am that I haven't gotten a cell phone here. Trust me, I'm glad I haven't gotten a cell phone here. Really glad.

"The Koreans"

Just finished reading this excellent book about the Korean people, their history, and their perspectives. It has been extremely enlightening. The author, Michael Breen, is British, and has formulated some ideas about this complicated country while carefully trying not to generalize.
For example: "For Koreans, a contract is part of the symbolism involved in beginning a relationship. The contract is only as binding as the personal relations. Furthermore, the contract may often be seen by the Korean side as only symbolising the relationship between those who signed it, not the two corporations. If relations are very close, then insisting on a contract can be taken as an insulting indication of mistrust. If contracts are broken, extra-legal channels are used to resolve a dispute. It goes to court only when all else has failed" (169).
Also: "Koreans have bought into a negative view of their own history in this century. They do not have a regard for their past, not just because it is painful, but more significantly because they do not know how to look at it" (24).
Last one: "...Koreans have a different idea of where their ego, and their rights, start and stop than we do. Korean family members merge into one another, interfering and clinging and depending to an extent that would drive us to the therapy group. Close physical contact is the norm. Infants spend half their day strapped to their mother's or grandmother's back. Prams and playpens are uncommon because they separate parent and child. Children have the same bedtime as their parents and sleep in the same bed until they're about five" (50).
I lied. One more: "Unification is the stated goal of both sides. An innocent traveller may wonder, then, why has it not happened? When asked this, Koreans of north and south tend to blame others--foreign powers, political leaders. In fact, the answer lies in the meaning of the division. Two options were created and one choice is to be. Unification is a win-lose affair. It is important to note that the two Koreas have not unified because, for both, each unification goal has meant the removal of the other side. The goal of the communists was a communist Korea; the goal of the anti-communists was a Korea without communists. Until now, the Koreans would not permit two states to exist. Even the various proposals that would officially allow two sides to exist until they gradually merge are designed as hostile, slow-motion takeovers" (244).

Longing for family

As much as I feel like I have tried to carve out a little slice of Korea to call home, I'm longing for relationships and people that understand me. Sure, Koreans have an uncanny ability to invite you in, make you feel welcome, make you feel loved, but I think the side of me that has always felt complicated and conversational misses having long conversations about so many different things.
And mostly, I miss missing out on things. I know that I chose to be here, but I hate knowing that I cannot see my beautiful new nephews. I hate missing Mandy. I hate wanting to see everyone, knowing that their lives are changing in unfathomable, complex, (God-willing) wonderful ways, but I am not a part of these things, and I have not been able to see any of it.
I will go back to see the same family--well, I will see Mandy soon in relative terms. They will be the same family, but it makes me so sad to think they are becoming different people with different lives, different things that I do not understand. Thank God we can become different and better people, but I don't want to miss out on any of it.
A year doesn't seem like long until you think of all the things that happen in a year: two new babies (four depending on the count), a deployment, a move to Hawaii, job difficulties, and a few different babysitters.
We'll make it through.

Some birds for John

Hear are some birds. I'm hesitant to call them pigeons or sea gulls or whatever. You can see that they look quite a bit like mutts, crossed and rebred to be hybrids of some lost breed.
They are flocking around some trash.

This is Jenny.
I've known Jenny for a few months now, and she introduces me as her best friend. We hang out on Friday nights, we play pool, we sometimes go dancing, we play music, and we introduce each other to different friends.
The strange thing is that when we are together Jenny speaks Korean and French and she tries to speak English, and I speak English and try to speak Spanish and Korean. Somehow, we understand each other fairly well. Jenny has quite a few friends that speak English very well, but mostly we laugh a lot and have this amazing time considering that we don't really understand what we are saying to each other.
Jenny has been in Busan for four or five months; she moved here from Paris where she studied and taught dance for thirteen years (she grew up in Busan). Here she teaches dance, but she will move back to France next spring.
Jenny is so interesting: she is always ready to have a good time, to let her hair down and dance (even to music that I wouldn't throw into the garbage without running it over a few times first), to laugh, and to make everyone around her feel pretty good about having her around.
Jenny, like me, has not had the best luck with men--I don't really understand why this is because Jenny is beautiful and funny and fun to be around. Strangely, she has met someone who cares about her immensely. As beautiful and graceful and tall as Jenny is, he is not very tall or particularly handsome, but he is kind, generous, and sweet.
Last week, I was given the unique opportunity to interview him. I was supposed to decide if he was OK for her. I was incredibly flattered that Jenny asked me to do this.
Long story short, they are now dating. He's a pretty great guy.

I'm not mad anymore...

I've talked to a few people about this.
And, like I said, I'm not mad anymore.
I found out a couple of weeks ago that I have to stay longer, past my visa date, in fact. At first, I was annoyed and irritated by the situation, but I have become resigned to what it will be. I am supposed to be well paid for the extra days, and while I will not get the promised paid vacation days at the end of my contract that I never thought I would ever really get, I should still get my plane ticket, my bonus, and overtime for the last couple of weeks.
Not bad.
I suppose I will live.
So while I'm becoming more and more anxious about going home, I'm resigned to the situation. See everybody soon. I'm planning a trip: Hawaii, Minnesota, Indiana, California, New Jersey, New York, Iowa, and maybe Texas. If I don't run out of money.
Not bad.

Whistles

Well, a couple of funny things.
First, I was after another transformer tonight. It was only a little one, not like the three-inch beast I verbally and bleachly abused the other night. This one was in my tiled bathroom, so I hosed it down with a half a bottle of bleach before it stopped jumping, and then I washed it down the drain.
Somewhere in this ten minute battle, I began feeling a twinge of remorse. These marvelous creatures really are amazing: this baby transforming was hoping around my bathroom, drinking so much bleach that I may not need to clean the bathroom for another couple of days. And yet, it struggled, leapt, and moved. What a truly marvelous creature.
This twinge of guilt didn't keep me from washing the thing down the drain and yelling a couple of mean names at it.
The second thing happened a little earlier tonight. I was over at Dong Won and Meeyoung Soon's apartment, eating dinner and enjoying a chance to sit down. As usual, when I was trying to leave, Meeyoung Soon started to pack up fruit and bread to send home with me despite adamant protests. She tried to give me some clothes again, but I distracted her from this when she gave me a barrette. This is all really strange. I feel incredibly uncomfortable, but I think she enjoys this.
On the way home, Meeyoung Soon stopped me into a small store to purchase a whistle. She hung it around my neck and began demonstrating the many situations I could use this if I were ever threatened.
How awesome.
In America, we have mace.
In Korea, we have whistles.
I find this so incredibly ironic considering the neighborhoods I have been around. I should have bought a whistle when I was teaching at Martin....

The Adventures of Sun Sung Duck and Heather, The Saga Continues

Part of me is really ready to go back to America. The part of me that wants to see my nephews, the part of me that wants to play some pinochle with my family, the part of me that wants to have a long conversation that does not have to do with teaching, Canada, politics, or Super ETS.

And then there is the part of me that knows that I may not have these strange and wonderful relationships that I have here.
Sunday, I started at Sun Sung Duck's apartment at 8 am. I found out that Sora, Sun Sung Duck's daughter, would not be able to go with us, but that Gim Bong Sue and Sun Sung Duck's husband would go with us. None of them know English. I don't know Korean.

We sat around the apartment for awhile, and I understood that a taxi was coming to get us, but I didn't really know when. Sun Sung Duck showed me some of Sora's art work, and I was tremendously impressed by the complex, abstract, human figures mounted over impressionistic jean-fronts. Quite creative and meaningful.

After an excellent breakfast, I sort of helped and watched Sun Sung Duck pack up a tremendous picnic lunch. It was huge.











Sun Sung Duck's husband has always seemed a little intimidating to me--the few times I have met him. I cannot quite explain why I feel this way. He is very tall, he has a warn and attractive face, and I'm never sure what Koreans think of me--especially when I show up at their apartments in a strange and possibly unwelcome manner. However, he is none of these things. He laughs easily, and he smiles broadly. This group of three with the talkative taxi driver made an amazing traveling group.

We went everywhere in Kyung Ju. We hiked to an ancient and amazing statue of Buddha, we saw a palace, we saw a stretching area of burial grounds that were huge mounds of earth, and of course, we had an amazing lunch.

These people are so phenomenal. I am so continually blessed to have these wonderful experiences.

Grading and the Transformers

The last week has been draining: we've had to do grades this week. I teach about sixty kids right now, and because the tuition is rather expensive and because the children's behavior is often less than self-sufficient, I suspect many of the children come from wealthy families who give them anything they want.
It is very difficult to write comments for sixty children, telling the parents how smart and wonderful they are, saying the children are really good but need to listen better, and encouraging them to do their work more often.
It is even more draining because the teachers need to do most of this work on their own time. V. annoying (forgive the Bridget Jones reference).
On to the transformers. I believe in an earlier post, I mentioned the transformer bugs. Some of the teachers have nicknamed these strange bugs such because they jump, they swim, and they crawl. My best guess can describe them as a cross between a grasshopper and a cockroach. And they are big.
My efforts to keep my apartment free of cockroaches have continued to be quite successful. I hate the ugly things, and I haven't much patience for sharing my abode with them, so I regularly spray my windows and door to keep the beasts out.
Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to keep out the transformers.
Last night, I had a nasty battle with a three-inch transformer that involved bleach, an old fly swatter, and several shoes. After slowing down the beast with the bleach (but not killing it), I successfully escorted the bane outside. I yelled at him a bit, and I think he was sufficiently swayed from coming back.
We will see.

Two months--and counting

It's strange how a couple of quiet days will lead right into a crazy time.
Last week was pretty crazy, but the last few days have been very busy but quiet, complete with the torrential down pour that followed me home from school tonight. My umbrella blew inside-out twice, but when the wind was gusting the worst, the rain was pounding the least.
Wow.
But I'm going to back up and tell a bit about the past weekend.
I went out with my friend Jenny on Friday. She was sad to have missed me last week when I was in Seoul, and she was ready to celebrate my birthday. She ordered chicken and gave me a strange necklace of a pig which is both beautiful and peculiar at the same time. Tae Hyun gave me a CD of James Blunt, complete with the song, "1973" which he will play for me when he sees me.
Tonight, I was wishing for a quiet night at home, but I had made an appointment to visit with Dong Won and his mother Bek Myuong Soon. My jeans and socks were wet from the rain, so she took my socks off, cuffed my jeans, and proceeded to rub my feet and ankles with a small towel. After Myuong Soon sent Dong Won to the store for milk, she tried to take off my clothes to put on dry clothes--insisting they were gifts. When I told her about a hundred times, "Anio," and, "No gifts," she pouted for a minute and began drying my jeans with a hair dryer.
What an amazing world. I felt like ripping open the Bible to point to the part where Jesus says we should wash each others' feet.
They are fasting and praying about their future, but they made me an amazing dinner with a soup that defies explanation in my realm of taste experiences. I had a brief moment when I suspected that they hadn't the food or the money to eat this well.
I don't know.
But what I do know is that I always feel blessed leaving Myuong Soon's home and Shin Bun Ock's home. And I always feel stupid remembering that I had wanted to spend the night alone in my apartment.

Turning thirty-something

Today, I made a big pot of coffee and only drank one mug this morning. I bolted all my windows carefully. I broke up another crying fit between three of my first graders. I talked to Sun Sung Duck for a half an hour while she taught me the names of some fish, and I watched her throw fish heads and gut small squid. I had an amazing eighteen course meal with Shin Bun Ock.
It was like a regular day in Meyoung Jong Dong, but I still feel a bit like a princess.
I remember being quite upset when I turned twenty-three. I felt like all the goals and dreams I had set for myself were slowly fading before my eyes.
Now, I do not feel the same sort of frantic fear about age. Yes, time is going too quickly, and yes, I'm having a wretched time getting the next project going, and yes, I don't know where I will be in six months, and yes, I miss my family dearly.
But instead of feeling frantic about my youth slipping away, I feel a growing sense of satisfaction in where I have been--not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
So much has changed in the last twenty years, and mostly--although I'm not proud of most of it--I wouldn't change any of it. I am who I am, and these experiences and choices have created the person I am today. And I wouldn't be the same person I am if it weren't for the different choices I have made and the different places that God has let me go.
Like the Schrodinger's cat in the box. The different options may be unseen, but they open possibilities with an endless chain of eigenstates that have somehow created the amalgamation of me.

A kafkaesque 24 hours

Funny, things can seem quite bizarre if you put the right spin on everything.
It's been warm, so I fell asleep with my window cracked a bit. The screens don't lock, but I don't really have anything valuable in my bedroom.
Last night, I went to bed, and I had these strange dreams. I woke to shadows in my window, and the screen sliding open. I thought the shadow looked like a cat, so I rolled over, checked my clock that read 3:30, turned on all the lights, drank some water and went back to sleep.
The feral cats visited me in my dreams after that. They came pushing through my dreams and right into my consciousness. I woke again at 4:30, seeing the strange feral shadows and hearing the screens moving again. I sat up in bed, awake, and turned on the lights. I went to the window and sure enough, the window was open to the outside, no screen, nothing. I quickly locked the window, and turned on every light in my apartment, looking for the stray cat that must have jumped into my apartment looking for a warm body. I checked under the bed. In the bathroom. Under my desk. I was still in that vaguely dream-like panic, so I may have even opened a few cupboards and drawers
There weren't any feral cats.
Hardly reassured, I crawled back in bed for a fitful night's sleep.
This morning was a field trip to the UN Memorial. This was quite impressive. The rose bushes, the wall of names, the photographs, and the quietude were really reflective considering my own sister's recent commitment to the war in Afghanistan. It may have been more impressive if the children were not whining about how hot it was and the other teachers were comparing recent drunken binges.
Somehow this juxtaposition just diminished the whole experience for me.
This afternoon was not atypical: Cindy was crying because she didn't get enough attention, Jennifer was crying because Alex called her some name in Korean that I don't know what it means, and Katie was crying because she scraped her knee last week.
Then, one of my neighbors mentioned something about a break-in last night. She lost $200, and someone was definitely at my window, taking random stuff from my window sill with no value and leaving it outside.
Booo.
So much for the feral cats trying to break in. I think I liked that dream better.
Tonight, I met with Dong Won and Meyoung Soon. This is a charming, hospitable, Christian family I met only a week ago. They had me to their home for dinner last week and invited me over tonight. Meyoung Soon began to cry when she heard that I would leave Korea in two months. I wanted to lie and tell her that I certainly was coming back--I did tell her that I may come back, which is not a lie--but I did not know what to tell her. I love this country, and more, I love this town of Meyoung Jong Dong, but I miss my family terribly.
It's somehow strange to have people cry when they don't want you to leave--OK, except for sisters and parents.

It's a little quiet

Funny how it seems very quiet today.
I traveled to Seoul this weekend to visit a friend of my sister Mandy's, Kelly, and had an amazing time. I find this surprising: I don't care to travel alone unless I have the time to absorb and digest a new place and the people, but Kelly is inspiringly travel savvy. She pounced on Seoul with a vigor that I would attribute to chameleons or ancient explorers, and we energetically explored new places, palaces, and palatable cuisines.
Fantastic.
Home again, I'm enjoying the relative quiet and solitude in my apartment: I can hear a baby crying, some music playing (outside, not my own), a loudspeaker from a vendor on the street, and my refrigerator humming. My refrigerator is leaking again.
And so I'm back to my quiet life, in South Korea, with all its foibles and chaos and strangeness. As much as I miss my family and Mexican food, I'm enjoying my small circle of "family" that has been doing their very best to keep me well-fed and happy. In fact, I have several dinner arrangements with three different households (Tuesday with a new Christian family I have just met [the son is named Dong Won, and I can't make this up], Wednesday with Choi and Shin Bun Ock, and Friday with Jenny and Young Hee).
I love Korea.

The surprisingly mild letdown

So, I woke up this morning listening to the rain pounding the pavement outside and swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat--I get this familiar lump sometimes when I need to say goodbye to the dearest people in my family when I really don't want to say goodbye and when I just can't express how much I love them.
Safely and quickly, I got them off to the airport, and the day passed quickly at work with no unusual problems--yeah, I had the normal crying girls, the threats of vomit, the fights to dissipate, and the quirky lessons, but all in all, it was good.
I was praying a bit more than usual today. This week has made me realize how amazing my circle of friends here is--Choi, Shin Bun Ock, Sun Sung Duck, Gim Bong Sue, Pil, Jenny, Tae Hyun, Maria, Hanna--and I love them so much. I don't want to think about saying goodbye to them, but I miss my family so much sometimes. Seeing Meg and Mike compounded this, I think. Well, I was praying that I wouldn't feel too sad or lonely.
Sure enough, this little town of Meyong Jong Dong never ceases to amaze me. While I was to meet Sun Sung Duck this evening, and I was a little late to do so, a lady waved me into her shop. She has a little coffee shop, and she quickly mixed me some Korean coffee and a padjun while I stood there looking around and making my pathetic attempt to communicate. The ladies didn't seem to mind. After a few minutes, I tried to make a tactful exit promising to return.
But Sun Sung Duck was not at her stand. I didn't know what to do. I ran into the hairdresser's shop to try to ask, "Sun Sung Duck odi?" (Where Sun Sung Duck?) in my tremendously broken Korean, and she said something that I didn't understand. I headed to her apartment, and asked again at a vendor on the street. Fourth floor.
I headed upstairs, and knocked on her door. She looked a little tired, but she opened the door, waving me inside--I think I interrupted their dinner. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, offering Sun Sung Duck the padjun that the other lady had just made for me (what am I doing? I love this dish, and it was such a lovely gift). Sun Sung Duck then proceeded to bring me gifts--first a hat from her daughter, then two different jackets (she had me try on two different sizes), and a backpack.
I stood there, overwhelmed, a bit embarrassed, and completely thankful.
I hope I am not taking advantage of anyone.
Last night, Choi and Pil took Meg and Mike and I to the best baseball game--ever--and one after another, all of these wonderful people have been offering to take us out and show us a good time.
And, on Friday, I get to hang out with Jenny and Choi and Pil and who knows?
I have moments where I think I may get on a plane post haste and go see my family. I have other moments when I think I may never leave this amazing town.

The Itinerary

For those of you that don't know, I'm getting ready for Meg and Mike to get here. This entails bleaching my apartment, making several different lists for different grocery stories, doing the laundry, and buying several interesting foods that Mikie will be thrilled to try (aloe juice, dried cuttle fish, Korean melon, a variety of teas, green tea cereal, gimchi flavored tuna, and sweet bean breads, to name a few).
Besides this, my neighbor fell off a skateboard and broke her arm this weekend--frankly, I'm glad it wasn't me--and I'm trying to keep my head down and get through the next few months.
So, back to the itinerary.
Thursday: Meg and Mike arrive, and I plan to show them around Meyoung Jong Dong a bit. They will have plenty to see in this five block area on Friday to keep them a little busy.
Friday: I must work, and Meg and Mike must keep themselves happy. Friday night, Choi Won Seok and his parents--the family that teaches me Korean--will drive us around a little. Maybe later we will meet a couple of people in Pusan De Hak Yeo.
Saturday--we will head to Japan. I don't know what we will do there.
Sunday--we will return from Japan.
Monday--I have to work again. Monday night, maybe we will go to Nampo Dong where the fish market is. If it is too late, we may just go to Hae Un Dae or Gwanan li where one of the beaches are.
Tuesday--we really should make some serious time to go shopping although everybody knows that I can usually only take shopping for as long as I can hold my breath or for as long as Mom is there for me to physically lean on. Maybe Pusan De? Lotte (probably no)? Migliore?
Wednesday--I'm not thinking about this. I think they fly out in the a.m., but I'm still in a bit of denial about this.
Anybody else wanna come visit? I'm here for about 2 1/2 more months?

Engineers and Cats?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHXBL6bzAR4

Meg just sent this to me. Check it out: it's one of the funniest things I have seen in awhile.

Korean Baseball

First things first: I am much better. The flu has passed, and I am feeling so much stronger.
This week has been a hiatus as I have been trying to recover, though. On Tuesday, I went to my new Bible study at a wonderful Korean tea shop. Lovely.
Wednesday, I went to my language exchange with Choi and his mother, Shin Bun Ock. As always, this is so much fun, they are so hospitable, so interesting, and so fun. Have I mentioned that Shin Bun Ock is the best chef (yoree-sa, in Korean) in Meyoung Jong Dong? Choi asked me to a baseball game, and I thought, "Well, I'm still a little beat, but why not?"
So, Thursday, I went to a Korean baseball game.
This was an adventure of Don Dillo proportions.
After work, I met Choi and his friend Pill at the subway station. We travelled to the stadium, but we were running late. We stopped into a HomePlus (sort of like a big WalMart) to get some chicken and drinks.
Then, the tickets. This was a challenge.
The ticket counters were sold out. I was not too disappointed. I was excited, but sports (as anyone who knows me well) are not my most favorite pastime. However, after negotiating with several scalpers, Choi bought some tickets for an undisclosed price. I was excited.

The stadium was packed. They pass around bright orange bags to collect the garbage after the game, but the people blow up the bags, and the bags end up on everyone's heads.



This is Pill and I sitting next to the guard rail. What a great game! I hardly remember the two home runs and the four fouls as much as I remember the newspaper pom-poms and the songs people sang. Choi took some video, but I'm still trying to figure out how to post it on blogger. iPhoto is not cooperating.


This is Choi and I. We are sharing some sweet and sour chicken--Al, it is great! We also had some dehydrated squid, which was fantastic.
What a game. I'm not much of a spectator, but this was quite a night. Everything was such an adventure.

I've got the flu...

Well, as usual, I don't have much to say. It was a chaotic week last week, with parents coming into the kindergarten in the mornings, and craziness to boot. Now, again, I'm working more hours.
Boo.
I've been in bed this weekend with the flu, so all of you good praying people say a good prayer for me because we don't really get to call in sick here. I'm glad I've had the weekend to rest up, though, because I've slept most of the weekend and done nothing else. Well, except catch up on my "Bones" episodes, thank you very much, Megs, for getting me hooked on this one. The days are numbered until you get here. Try to pack in a few extra siblings and parents, too, OK?

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Busan: 65 degrees Farenheit, 18 degrees Celsius, clear. Heather's view outside: easily 70 degrees, and oh, so clear. Spring is here.
But this is not why I thought I would write about the beautiful day in the neighborhood.
Not too long ago, Renee, one of my neighbors, walked with me to school. We walked along my usual route, down "Market Street," turned south towards Allak Junction, and then turned west at Allak to school. We waved at one of the grocers where I stop to buy groceries often, looked in at the man in the pharmacy (he is the father and the husband of the lady and the student with whom I meet for my language exchange), waved at the lady who cooks gimbob in the morning, said to hello to one of her customers who usually waves to me, waved at another friendly grocer near Allak who recognizes me, greeted another man at the corner of Allak junction who politely greets me every morning, and shook hands with a jogger who passes me a couple of mornings a week.
Renee thought this was funny.
She said I might as well be Mr. Rogers with my little neighborhood. I change my shoes when I get to work. I even draw funny pictures for the kids. I don't have a train, though.
I don't know why I was thinking about what Renee said this morning, but I was thinking about how lonely it is: I greet these people--I can say hello and good morning, now, but that is about all--and I have my strange little routine, disconnected and strange as it probably is.
I enjoy it. Mostly, I would rather blend in, so people do not notice me so much. It's interesting, though, to have lots of people happy to see me on a regular basis. It would be nice to talk to people, though, beyond the five words that I know in Korean.
I wonder if Mr. Rogers felt this way, too. Not about the Korean part, I mean.

A strange list

Well, this month has been dragging, and I'm feeling a little blue, so I'm going to make a list of some of the interesting and strange things around here that still make me laugh.
1) The most annoying thing--no toilet paper in the stalls. Even if a public restroom has TP, you have to get it from one large common dispenser.
2) The worst thing I have eaten--a toothpick. I did not eat this intentionally: it was holding together some eggy appetizer thing, and I was with some coworkers, too embarrassed to spit it out. I chewed A LOT, thinking it was a bone or something, and proceeded to dissect the next one carefully with my chopsticks--yep, I ate a toothpick.
3) The most unappetizing thing that I witness on a common basis--people washing food, usually vegetables, with a bucket on a tarp in the street--the same streets where people spit and smoke regularly. Funny thing is, I still eat fresh vegetables and fruit. I just try not to think about where this stuff comes from.
4) The most unappetizing thing that I have only seen once--the fish market at Nampo Dong. This was a really strange market with shark, squid, eel, octopus, and so many other fish, and it was several blocks wide stretching for maybe a mile. The weird thing was watching the fish dance in the bowls and aquariums next to the same chopping blocks where they were going to be slaughtered. It was a little like a surreal zoo where all the animals end up cooked.
5) The best thing I have eaten in Korea--Mexican food, I have to say. I miss it a lot. There's one place that is quite expensive, but they serve free chips and salsa and guacamole with dinner. A close second is anything I eat at my language exchange family's house--the mother can really cook.
6) The strangest thing I have seen--the shark with kyphosis. Or at least I recall the shark from the Busan Aquarium as the shark with scoliosis. Very interesting. I have no idea if this was a defect, a specific breed, or an accident.
7) The best part about working with kids--teaching them to say things like, "Yadda, yadda, yadda," or walking into a classroom and having one of the students start singing, "Everybody dance now," or have one of them run up to you and hug you for no reason whatsoever.
That's all I can think of, except to wish Mikey a happy birthday. I hope you are making a list of things to do, and I hope pinnochle is on it.

The spring is making me trigger-happy

Well, trigger-happy with my camera, at least. The cherry blossoms have been nuts this weekend, and this morning at church we had beautiful weather, so I was out snapping some pictures.

This first picture shows the street in front of Minerva Hall where International Community Church meets. If you zoom in a little you can see the petals all over, snowing down on these cars. I saw some boys and some men shaking trees and catching the petals like I have only seen people catch the first flakes of snow in winter.

This next one is looking down at the soccer field near the Minerva Hall. Koreans are really committed to playing their sports: these teams have been outside playing every morning on Sundays even if it is raining, twenty degrees or whatever. In the distance, Busan Port is visible.

This last picture is near the entrance to the Pusan University of Foreign Studies (PUFS). This walkway is quite steep, but with these trees, I was enjoying every step.

This one is for Mom

Happy birthday to Mom!!!
Mom and I were talking the other day, talking about Meg maybe coming to visit in Korea around my birthday. Mom asked if we would be able to find a birthday cake to celebrate. This made me laugh for two reasons: one, anyone who knows me very well knows that I am not particularly fond of sweets, and two, the cakes here are elaborate and ostentatious.
So, I decided to post a few strange pictures of Korean cakes so that I can show that, 1) Meg and I will be able to find a cake, 2) that an elaborate selection is available, 3) that I'm thinking about Mom dearly on this day, and 4) that this country is wonderfully strange, not the drab place that James may imagine. I put some more pictures on Facebook of strange advertisements.



Actually, I just saw this display case walking home one night. This one is relatively small. I have seen more elaborate and extensive selections, but this one will give you an idea of the way pastries are done.




This is some sort of tiger (or maybe a bear?). Interesting, many cakes are in the shape of animal heads. The first thing that comes to my mind: how in the world are you supposed to cut this thing?



This gives you a small glimpse of the elaborate decorations. The kids at the kindergarten do a birthday party once a month, and the parents send in cakes. Chocolate is a big thing, of course, but fruit seems to be an elaborate decoration.



















I don't know what this cake is. It looks like a stack of marshmallows on top of this cake, but who knows.

This one is for Meg

Well, I'm not going to lie. This blog is mostly for Meg, a little for Grandma Weezie. I've been seeing some flowers out the last couple of days, and while the city here does not have an abundance of trees and flowers, if I look for them, I can find them.
Meg, we will have to check out some interesting florists when you get here.







This picture shows a small garden.
Gardens don't get much bigger than this one in Busan.
Once you get to the outskirts of the city, the land is more open.






This is in the garden.
This is close to school, but it is off the main road, and I stumbled upon the garden on my way to the post office. I was lucky to have my camera.








I thought this one was particularly interesting. To my knowledge, daffodils are a spring flower. They bloom after the ground thaws. The palms trees, however tend to be warmer creatures seeking warming ground. The juxtaposition between the palm trees and the daffodils just seems a little off to me.












You can't see these blossoms well in this picture: they look like little tulips. I haven't seen many of these trees, but this one is blooming across from the school. I have been able to see it every morning this week.










These are some beautiful roses.










Here are some more beautiful roses.



These next two pictures are of Busan Station. This is where people can catch trains to Seoul or other nearby cities.

















This building is really quite interesting.
I always come this way to go to the Seaman's Club.
The trip to the Seaman's Club is quite interesting: first you go through the Busan Station, walk through the parking lot, take the free standing elevator (picture Charlie's Glass Elevator), and then walk along the highway for half a block. No secret handshake is necessary, but a membership is required.









These next pictures are of the buffet some teachers and I went to at the Seaman's Club for Easter. What a great place. Pictured here: Julie teacher (pronounced, "Julie teacher" in Korea), and Walt the owner and operator of the Seaman's Club.