No "Ho-ho-ho!"

Spending Christmas in South Korea was only my second time being away from home for the holidays. My sister, Natalie, and I backpacked Australia for a month during college winter break in 2005. Spending Christmas on the beach in Perth and seeing Santa on the subway was a little different, but so memorable. In fact, I remember receiving a stuffed koala bear from Natalie's friend, Dave, when we arrived in the Melbourne airport on Boxing Day (day after xmas). That little guy sits on my dresser back in the states. Sadly, Dave passed away a few months ago in a tragic accident in Turkey, so the bear leaves me a tad teary but always reminds me of Dave's kindness and hospitality.

At least Christmas is celebrated in Australia.

Here is the series of questions I asked my students regarding their Christmas plans:
hh: Will you open presents tomorrow morning?
students: No.
hh: Santa won't bring you any presents?
students: No Santa.
hh: No Santa in Korea?
students: No.
hh: Ah, yes, Korea's probably too far.
students: (laugh) Yes, too far.
hh: So what about a Christmas tree?
students: No Christmas tree.
hh: Will you have a big dinner?
students: No. Just sit in big room with family.
hh: Wait. No presents... no Santa... no Christmas tree... no dinner?
students: Yes. Go to America, teacher.
hh: (laugh)
students: (laugh)

Sooooo the conclusion here is that there is no Christmas in Korea--not the American way anyway. No decorations (only cheapy $1 crap at Lotte Mart). No gift baskets. No tacky sweaters. They just hang out with family all day. Married or unmarried couples spend the day together too. Oh, and for you single people out there, you hang out with other single people and get really drunk (which doesn't actually sound too bad considering your other option is being locked in a room with your folks). Therefore, a group of Westerners decided we would make our own Christmas here. An engaged couple had about 20 or so people over and cooked us all a huge dinner, which was actually one of the best meals I've ever had. Steamed veggies, salad, mashed potatoes, baked sweet potatoes, stuffing, turkey, short bread cookies, and egg nog! And all this they did with a stove top, microwave, and rice cooker! We played Rob Your Neighbor, and I won a sweet pair of fuzzy rainbow socks. My English friend won a pair of butt implant underwear--funniest and best prize in the pot! Of course we played the usually drinking games--F the dealer and Circle of Death. I recreated high school memories by writing dares on every block of a game of Jenga that someone won in Rob Your Neighbor. We summed up the night by purchasing large quantities of soju and sprite and heading to a norabang (karaoke room) singing the Beatles, Justin Timberlake, and everything in between. Honestly, it was an amazing Christmas. An amazing week.

Of course, I missed seeing you. Seriously, if you are reading this, then you must be someone that actually cares about me. How about next year?

xx
hh

Rock, Paper, Scissors

When you have short hair (I'm learning), it is important to make frequent hair appointments as letting it grow out a couple inches transforms a chic, edgy look into a slobbish mess. Some other Westerners suggested salons where English was well spoken and understood. However, since bus and subway rides were involved, I opted to go to a local shop that is a 5 minute walk from my apartment (including waiting for the elevator and walking up two flights of stairs). Did my laziness pay off? I'd say so. And I got a neat little story out of it too.

So I walk into Juno Hair Salon and am instantly spotted by every Korean in the shop (the norm). A young girl comes to the counter to help me, and I do my normal freeze, stare, purse my lips, and shake my head. I grab a strand of hair and make a sideways peace sign, chopping it with my fingers, and say, "cut?" A young man came over to me and led me to the waiting area. I see a white guy waiting too and think "Thank God. Maybe he can help me. Surely he's done this before." My next thought is, "He'll hear me trying to communicate with them. This is going to be humiliating." I typically don't mind making a fool of myself in front of Koreans because they can't understand what I'm saying anyway. But sounding like an idiot in front of someone that can understand your language... ugh, as if I'm not awkward enough on my own. So this white guy is sitting with a Korean American girl (I know this because she is talking perfect English with an American accent), and I think, "Jackpot!" The young man that seats me starts saying something that ends with "tea." And I did my stare and freeze movement again. He then simply said, "Tea?" I'm still speechless. I'm so used to never understanding Koreans (except at school) that I don't even understand when they are speaking my OWN language to me. I look to my right to the Korean American girl, and ask, "Do you know how to ask for a haircut?" She responds, "Yeah. But he's asking you if you want tea," rolling her eyes on the inside, I'm sure. How stupid can you be? They try to speak English to you and you just give them a blank stare! Now I'm feeling legitimately dumb. You have a college degree. You've traveled the world. Come on. I decline the offer of tea because I feel that I've been a burden enough in making him wait for an answer. A man sits down next to me to discuss what I want with my hair. He has a book in hand, and we flip through it together. I find a couple pictures I like. He sputters some words in English like, "bob cut, short in back, and A-line." I'm thinking we're in business now. This will work. A different young girl washes my hair, adding a bit of a scalp massage in the mix. She brings me back to my hair dresser's chair. He tells me his name is Sun-il, and we chat in broken English, using key words like, "Me. America. Here for 2 months," as I hold up two fingers to make sure he understands. He tells me that his friend lives in Canada and wishes he would move there because there are no good hair dressers in Canada. We laugh. He tells me he dreams small: small city, America, cut hair. I say he should move to St. Louis, and he can cut my hair when I move home. We laugh. All the while he does a funky flip move with the scissors, holding them backwards as he cuts. I do a lot of laughing and alternating between saying, "Yeah," and "Ne," which is Korean for "yes," because giving blank stares don't seem to get me anywhere. He asks me if I want my neck "clean," and I ask him, "green?" He makes a buzzing noise at my neck, and I realize that he's cut it so short that he needs to buzz my neck a bit (not the first time this has happened). He calls for a young man to get his the clippers which are in the cabinet at his station. It's funny--they have hair washers, tea servers, clipper retrievers, and even hair dryers. I tell him I have to leave for work soon so he and another girl blow me dry, he cuts a little more, styles, adds some goop, and brings me to the counter to pay. They give me a card for a 10% discount for my next visit. I try to ad a tip to my card, but the lady ringing me up doesn't understand. I paid 22,000 won, which is something like US$20. Not bad. And, hey, I got a neat little story out of it.

xx
hh