Road Rage

Have you ever driven through Paris during rush hour? Ever been the passenger guiding your father through the winding, name-changes-every-other-block streets by simultaneously checking his Blackberry's GPS (which is taking 5 seconds too long to give your exact location thus allowing you just enough time to miss your turn) and squinting your eyes (I refuse to get my eyes checked) to decipher the white-on-blue lettered signs located on the second floor of the buildings--somehow not logically placed near the streets where you're actually driving--all the while resisting the urge to scream at your white-knuckled pops?  No? Never?

I highly recommend it.

Also topping my list: drive cross-country, with only a map of France (as long as you are actually IN France), cookies, and Diet Coke (and plenty of euros for those hefty tolls)--and bring your dad.  Or the way my dad likes to say, "Well, Holly, you were worth having on the trip."  That might sound really loving and sweet, but what he really means is that since he was paying for the rental car, gasoline, hotels, and food, I was worth having as his personal GPS, not necessarily as his fun-loving, energetic, second-born daughter.  It's okay.  He's not good at conveying his emotions, so I took it as a compliment.

One of my favorite things about my dad is his humor.  Especially because he usually doesn't know that the things he says are so hilarious. He's actually serious.

Once we settled into our hotel in Chamonix-Mont Blanc, we took an impromptu hop over to Switzerland, just to see if the mountains looked any different over there.  As we drove down the skinny roads, we passed numerous farms with cows, sheep, and goats.  Windows down, we could hear the bells of cows clank as they munched on grass or lazied about the pasture.  Out of nowhere, Dad says, "I love the cow bells. (pause)  I gotta get me one'a them."  We may be from Missouri, but we certainly never share in its vernacular, so that got me giggling right away.  And just what could my 56-year old, country club golfing, funeral home-owning father possibly use a cow bell for?  Maybe he'll add it to his new electronic drum set (Dad took his midlife crisis seriously).

Rewind a few days back to somewhere in the French countryside.  God knows how many times we got lost--took the wrong turn, missed an exit, misread a French road sign--but one moment directly following our success in getting back on track sticks in my mind.  Not only was I the human GPS, I also served as his waitress.  It's fine.  I can't drive a stick shift (his fault!), so I had to take care of the other duties (to earn my keep, of course).  Relieved that we were traveling in the correct direction, he amicably requested, "Now I need a cookie to make me happy."  We're emotional eaters.

We got used to the roundabouts after a while--the seemingly confusing way the exit signs are labeled, the way you have to Mario-Kart your way around it, tuck your tail between your legs and skedaddle so as not to get smashed in the rear.  I don't know if I can count on one hand the number of stop signs I saw in France.  My dad, as he ventured us out into yet another roundabout, put it best, "They just won't let you make a left turn in this country."

I have to give my dad a lot of credit for his driving in Europe.  Manual car, French signs, roundabouts, and me as a pitiful guide--that's a lot to put up with.  The best times we had, I think, were the "we're lost" ones.  As we endlessly searched for a vacant hotel in Geneva (which lies on the border of France and Switzerland), my dad said something that I think sums up our entire cross-country, father-daughter driving experience:

"I don't know if we're in France or Switzerland.  I don't know where we are."

xx

hh

L'incompetent!

I think my all-time favorite movie would have to be Home Alone.  If not for the simple reason that my family once watched it 6 times in a row (we're talking play, rewind, play, rewind, etc.) in the "big van" on our 1,500-mile summer vacation out west, then it's because, at any given moment, my siblings might work a line from the 90s film into conversation--and if you can't pick up on that and finish the scene's dialogue, well, then you just don't really belong in this family at all.
One of the best lines from this movie is when Kevin is complaining that he can't pack his own suitcase for their trip to France, and his sister tells him that he's, "what the French call, l'incompetent!"  Ouch.  I really wanted to slap his sister in that moment--mostly because of her ugly sweater-turtleneck combo (OK, it was the 90s, so it's forgiven), but also because packing is hard.  It's almost impossible not to overpack.  There's so much to consider.  And inevitably, you forget a key item or hate everything you packed and end up wearing the same dirty, wrinkled mess day in and day out.
I am determined to pack efficiently for my trip to France, which starts in just 2.5 days.  I've got it all laid out, and I'm counting each piece so that the number of outfits does not go over 20 (for 11 days, I think that's plenty modest), and no more than 5 pairs of shoes.  After I came back from Australia, I spoke to the next group of Mizzou students going abroad to study about, amongst other topics, what to pack.  I felt pretty special when I had a room of about 300 people laughing at my response, "Coming from the girl who packed 11 pairs of shoes, don't do that."  I am also the girl who, after arriving back in America from 14 months in Asia, had to wear a sweater, blazer, winter coat, infinity scarf, and 5 Vietnamese conical hats in order to make her carry-on bag clear security (after being rejected once, and of course, having an emotional meltdown).  I've been guilty of overpacking on numerous occasions, but I just can't help it.  Maybe I shouldn't be so worried about what I look like and focus more on how l'incompetent I'm going to sound trying to swoon French boys.  I kid.

xx
hh

730 days

It's been a while. A long while. An unintentional break from what was intended to be a detailed account of my travels in Asia. I've certainly told my stories to anyone who will listen. If I had a nickel for every time I started a story with, "When I was in Asia...," I'd surely cease my tiring, time-consuming career as a teacher and go back. Tonight, I set aside my papers to grade (that are already long overdue) to reflect upon the two years that have passed since I left for my Far East endeavor.

One year ago today, I strolled the beaches of Haad Yao on the exotic island of Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand, counting the stars and avoiding the jellyfish bloom that washed ashore. I devoured fresh seafood, caught by the locals, while kicking back at a candlelit table in soft sand and chatting with fellow travelers.

Two years ago today, I missed a flight to Seoul, dry-heaved into a trashcan at gate A19 at Lambert International Airport, then proceeded to hyperventilate at the thought of staying in America any longer.

In these past 730 days, I've aged at hyperspeed. Throwing yourself into a land where you don't speak the language, you don't understand the culture, and you don't fit the mold, you have no choice but to grow within yourself. Issues I ran from in America, I carried with me overseas, and for the first 11 months, I kept with me, tightly holding on to my anger and resentment. Perhaps running from problems isn't what every doctor would order, but it did me a deal of good. Escaping America, I was able to view the world from a less narcissistic point. A little girl in Cambodia taught me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there are others that have nothing and still smile. While climbing a volcano (yes, a volcano) on the Korean island of Jeju, which totaled 12 miles and required 8 hours to complete roundtrip, I realized that I can tackle any challenge I put my mind and body to--even if I cry from the excruciating pain along the way. New friends taught me to trust again--that everyone has baggage and that I don't have to carry mine all on my own. I learned what it's like to be a minority and foreigner, sometimes admired for my big, blue eyes and other times scoffed at for my American roots. My Korean devils... I mean, students... showed me that American kids aren't as ill-fated as we worry them to be. Lastly and most importantly, I learned to love--despite flaws and hiccups--to love others and to love myself.

xx
hh

Air Dry

It's not unusual to walk into a friend's studio apartment in Korea to find damp undies and bras strewn across her bedroom, dripping pants from the kitchen table or socks and sweaters hanging from a multi-tiered drying rack. She will, however, excuse her mess with two simple words and a shrug: laundry day. And because you don't have a dryer either, no further explanation is needed to account for the plethora of skivvies dangling in front if your eyes while you toast to the good life with a Soju and sprite cocktail.

It's Laundry day: you have two options: morning wash or night wash. The morning--you wash your clothes before work and hang them around the room to dry, ideally, before nightfall. Nighttime--you wash them whilst at dinner (because you and cooking devices don't mix) and hang to dry overnight. Essentially you better have your clothes picked out and lined up a few days before you intend to wear them because there's no quick wash 'n dry process possible here. Do you really want to wait for those jeans to dry or can you wear them, dirty and wrinkled, one last Friday night before they start to really reek of Soju and BBQ pork?

My challenge to you then is to do a full load--I'm talking stuffed-to-the-brim--of laundry. Set up a line outside or, to avoid judgment by your neighbors, use your counters or kitchen chairs and let evaporation do the work. It's a chore that under normal circumstances (i.e. owning a dryer) is already tedious enough but will transport you across the globe, where others live day in and day out without this luxury.

See you in 12 hours when your clothes are, hopefully, air dry.

xx
hh

Do You Have Bread?

I'll never forget my proudest moment in Korea.

I asked for bread at a grocery store.

I was vacationing on Jeju Island, Korea, over Thanksgiving Break in September '10, and, in need of bread to make a peanut butter sandwich, I scoured the store for a loaf. With no success, I opted to try out what little Korean I picked up in the past 11 months on the cashier. "Bbang iseoyo?" Do you have bread, I asked hesitantly. She answered, in Korean, that they did not have bread.

And. I. Understood!

Living in Korea is sometimes like living in your own little autistic bubble--the buzzing of a foreign language in your ear creates a certain solitude that allows you to drown out the constant commotion surrounding you and simply focus on your own thoughts. While I appreciated that peace, it isn't exactly helpful for asking about the location of bread in a grocery store or explaining to your boss that the reason for your recent doctor's visit is none of her business. But that's a story for another day.

xx
hh

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Nor are we in Korea.

First stop: Bangkok, Thailand

Imagine arriving in the country you've dreamed about since you were young, anticipating an exotic scene to unfold before you: lush trees, crystal blue waters, drums beating as you walk through temple doors, and spicy noodle dishes that make your eyes water and nose run.

Two words: Let. Down.

Perhaps the locals of Bangkok took the name of their hometown a bit too literally. Ladyboys, ping pong shows? I have now stepped onto another planet.

Let me explain. We arrived at the Bangkok airport at about 1AM on a Monday night/Tuesday morning. Only having found where to stay that night on the flight out of Seoul (this procrastination became a pattern and, eventually, a problem), we wandered the airport until we found the taxi stand, where the attendants were all too familiar with the area we wished to sleep: Khao San Road. The ride was short and cheap, and with wide-eyes, my excitement grew as we approached our destination. I hesitated as I stepped out the backseat. A raunchy mix of exhaust, booze-laced vomit, and dead fish heads crept up my nostrils. A teenage boy--dressed in a skin-tight black miniskirt, hot pink push-up bra barely covered by a see-through white tank top, and the reddest set of lips I've ever seen--smirked as he strutted by. And then, with an overstuffed backpack securely strapped to my little back, I trudged down Khao San.

Khao San Road. It's loud. It's wild. It's legendary. You can't miss it. Flashing lights. Techno beats. Special cigarettes. Buckets of liquor. Cheap Chang beer. Bars crawling, spilling over with hipsters, hippies, and hoes. A man throws a green lit ball into the air, and it slowly flutters to the ground. And then there's me. Dressed appropriately for the 38th parallel in jeans and a sweatshirt, jaw half open, watching intently as I closely clung onto my purse, I thought, "This is Thailand?"

After consulting with some friendly foreigners, we opted to stay on a side street nearby: Soi Rambutri. The cheap places were booked, so we stayed at a $25/night joint with a rooftop pool, which we never swam in.

I'm quite proud to say that my bravery over the years has far surpassed my natural inclination to nervousness. The last time I felt this afraid to leave my room was Day 1 in Korea when I suddenly realized that I didn't speak or read Korean. Having a travel companion is highly recommended, someone to force you out the door and face the chaos outside.

Tuk-tuk drivers waved us down for a cheap ride around town. Women pushing carts of roasted bugs offered samples of grasshoppers and beetles. The streets of Khao San and surrounding are lined with vendors selling cotton dresses, bracelets, headbands, T-shirts, watches, lighters, wooden carvings, pad thai, cold beer, coconut milk, iced coffee, scarves--any and everything you could ever want. They are all there just for us--the tourists, the backpackers, the avoiders of growing up.

Bangkok is madness but not to be missed. Are you a fan of body sweat, perpetual dirt under your fingernails, haggling for daily needs, eating your meals with rats, constant harrassment about a good deal? How about riding in a rainbow-colored tuk-tuk on the freeway driven by a wrinkly old man with no shoes or teeth? Surely you enjoy the scent of vomit and the excitement of nearly having your toes taken off by a passing truck? Yes? Perfect. Bangkok is the place for you. No? Fine, stick to Florida.

xx
hh

So You're Going to Southeast Asia...

And you wanna know what to bring, right? And where to go. And where to not go. Etc. Etc. Etc. I'm here to help.

Here is my list of must-have's for backpacking Southeast Asia:

1. Backpack! - This might seem like an obvious answer, but you wouldn't believe the number of suitcases I saw dragging through the dirt-laced lanes of Khao San Road. Don't be that loser. Get a backpack that measures from just above your hips to somewhere between your neck and the top of your head. I've seen backpacks that have rollers and a handle, which is actually convenient if you find yourself on a flat road. Side pockets are helpful for everyday items, like toiletries and sunscreen. However, NEVER put money, credit cards, or your passport in your big backpack. ALWAYS keep those items on you (or in a safe if you have to).

2. Your Passport - Like I said, keep this puppy on you as much as possible. In Vietnam, many guesthouses actually have policies where they keep your passport until you check out (so that you pay for your room & don't trash it). So when they ask for it, that's totally normal. Also, make a few copies and keep them in your backpack and purse/manbag. It's a good idea to bring a second form of I.D. too.

3. Cash/Credit Card/Debit Card - You're gonna need back-up! TRUST ME! I lost my ONLY debit card in Thailand but didn't realize it until I'd crossed the border and arrived 16 hours later in Laos. This disaterous situation was only resolved because my travel companion found a random debit card (which we overdrafted 7 million times) in his wallet. Don't be that loser. Bring an ass ton of cash. I brought US$800. Should've brought more. The problem with cash is that if you lose it, it's gone. The problem with a debit card is that you get charged every time you withdraw money. The problem with a credit card is that I don't even think they are accepted. At ZERO guesthouses and restaurants was anything other than CASH accepted. Unless you're planning to stay at some 4-star hotels, bring the green!

So here's my suggestion:
-CASH: Bring somewhere between US$500-$1,000. Not only will you need US cash for visa at the Laos and Cambodian borders, it's the most accepted currency in the world. In fact, I never even saw Cambodian currency--primarily US. Also, bring 50's and 100's to exchange because you get a better exchange rate. 20's are okay but I'd use those at the border. You'll probably end up with smaller bills if you pass through the markets in Cambodia, but never fear, you can use them in LAX on your way back home (or if you're Canadian, nevermind).
-DEBIT CARD: Bring two. If you don't have one, get one. And get overdraft protection on it.
-CREDIT CARD: I guess you can use one at an ATM, but I can't completely confirm that. There's no handing your card over to the waiter or bartender--only your hard-earned cash-o-lah!
***Note: Call your bank/credit card company and tell them the countries you'll be in. Keep that number on you in case it's stolen.

4. Meds - Get your vaccinations. You'll need Hepatitis A and B, Typhoid, and Japanese Emcephalitis. Also, grab some malaria pills. I got mine in Korea, and they only cost about US$10. It's also going to be important to get antibiotics and antidiarrheal meds. Just ask while you're getting your shots for a prescription. Also extremely important is ibuprofen/tylenol for those brain-pulsing, mind-numbing hangovers that you'll have in Bangkok. Sure, there's more 7-11's and mini-marts just about every time you turn around, but you won't want to journey into the heat. Of course, if you have any medical conditions, bring enough for the whole trip and then some.

5. A smaller Backpack - I can bet you'll be dropping that back-breaking backpack off in your guesthouse and hitting the town. Bring a smaller packpack with you for day trips, shopping, sight-seeing. A small purse is good too for going out to dinner or bars. The more zippers the better! If you dont mind belly sweat, then grab a money belt for essentials and toss it on under your britches.

6. All-weather clothing - It's gonna rain, it's gonna shine. Bring the following: tank tops, short-sleeved t-shirts, shorts (short and knee length), leggings (for entering temples and other religious buildings), cotton dresses, comfortable sandals that aren't flip-flops (for long, hot walks), flip flops (for the beach), pair of tennis shoes, thin plastic poncho, pair of jeans, swimsuit, small hand towel, syrong, and a hat (if you're into hats). Don't dress like a hobo unless you are really cool because it's hard to pull off. It's okay to look cute while you're traveling--you'll thank yourself later for putting in the extra effort.

7. Toiletries - Ummmm, ladies? Bring your lady products as they are very hard to find when you're in a jam. A fat bottle of hand sanitizer will be your life saver, so don't forget it like I did. Pack a few rolls of toilet paper--you WILL need it. Plus, when you finish using it, replace the space with souveniers or a new cotton dress from Khao San Rd. And if you're smart (read: cheap), snatch the toilet paper from your room before you check out. Everyone does it.

8. Southeast Asia Guidebook - I recommend "Lonely Planet - Southeast Asia on a Shoestring." Although it's pricey (about $35-40) compared to other brands and a 3 inches thick, they are the experts in travel, in my opinion. Unfortunately, this gigantic edition is not as thorough as the individual country editions, but it hits all the hot spots and gives the cheapest hotels, restaurants, and best deals in the areas, which, to someone like me who was on a tight budget, worked perfectly. I'm not proud of this next statement, but I'm going to say it anyway: if you can't afford this book (or any of their individual country editions), you can get a bootleg copy in Cambodia and/or Vietnam. In fact, you can get just about any bootlegged book. We "accidentally forever borrowed" a Vietnam edition from a guesthouse in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). Oops. That book was much more detailed and included some cool info that the Bible (Shoestring edition) did not. SO, if you start your trip in Cambodia (Siem Reap) or Vietnam (anywhere), you can get a copy of LP travel books for about $1 or two. But you didn't hear it from me.

Questions? Email me at hollyannehutchens@gmail.com

Safe Travels~

xx
hh

The Good, The Bad, and The Adjumma

The Good: Public transportation is quick and easy.

The Bad: Maneuvering through the subway is like a pee-wee soccer game. Everyone scrambles for the same goal but in the most unorganized possible way.

The Adjumma: Adjummas have nothing to lose. The kids are out of the house, the husband is a drunk and never home, life is winding down to the end. What's the answer to this mid-life/empty-nest crisis? Push your way through others, cut in line, and swipe empty seats on the subway. Logical, right?

The Good: Food is cheap, cheap, cheap.

The Bad: Hair is a frequent ingredient.

The Adjumma: Hair nets might cramp their style of 3-inch platforms, floral-print shirts, and camel toe-tight pants as they make my food. I understand.

The Good: I'm a freakin celebrity here. I've signed autographs. I've posed for pictures. People want to know me.

The Bad: I'm a poster child for the caucasian race. I've got to be careful of what I wear, what I say (even though most people can't understand me), and how I act--who likes to do that?

The Adjumma: She stares. She glares. But she doesn't say a word. Is it admiration? Disgust? Jealousy? Only she knows.

xx
hh

Note: Adjumma is a polite term in Korean for "married woman" typical given to older women. The waeguk world has transformed it into a negative term for the pushy old ladies of Korea.

Note: Waeguk is a Korean word for "foreigner."

"I have seen the Others...

...and I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting."

The Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) is an eerie place. Time stands still, frozen in 1953 when combat ended. But I could still sense the tension, the conflict, the animosity, the resentment, the history. It's been 60 years since North Korea attacked the South, but not much has changed in the DMZ. Land mines still litter the lush hills, a now-sanctuary for birds and other creatures. Propaganda Village rests in the North close to the border with the biggest flag in the world hanging high, a town with zero inhabitants and empty buildings beautifully decorated on the outside to lure Southerners to defect to the North. An oppessive dictatorship and communist country to the North and a fast-growing, modern democratic republic to the South. Heart-breaking.

In the Joint Security Area (JSA), I entered the U.N. room where talks of peace between the two Koreas take place. As I walked to the northern part of the room, I passed into North Korea. That alone had my heart racing. Two South Korean soldiers, trained in martial arts, guard this room--one stationed at the door leading to North Korea and one at the line of demarcation (the border). After we exited this room, we stoodnd on the stairs leading to a building on the South Korean side. As we turned around, an American soldier informed us that there was a North Korean soldier watching us from the stairs of the building on the North Korean side. They are always watching visitors in this area, but seeing his uniform, his rigid stance, I realized that I was on a battleground, that I was vulnerable and exposed. Any gesture--pointing, making strange faces, raising your arms in any way--is strictly forbidden as North Korea can use it as evidence that the South and the people inhabiting it are... crazy? Inappropriate? For this reason, we had to adhere to a strict dress code.

Next, we went to the Dora Observatory, where we were able to see far into the DMZ and into the North, a beautiful yet sad sight. Then it was on to the 3rd Tunnel. A North Korean engineer defected to the South in the early 70s and reveiled that North Korean has been building tunnels to the South in an attempt at a sneak attack. South Korea found four but are certain that there are more than 20 in total. I visited the 3rd one that was found. I walked down a steep incline 73 meters underground and followed the tunnel from the beginning (on the South Korean side of the DMZ) to the first blockade that South Korea set up in order to prevent North Korea from continuing their digging. Oddly enough, North Korea claims that these tunnels are South Korean-made. However, the dynamite blasts face the South, clearly telling us that the North was making their way south.

It's easy to forget sometimes that the Korean peninsula is still at war, but that trip reminded me why it's going on in the first place. The lineage of Kim Jung-il is power-hungry and crazed, brainwashing and abusing their people. The South is so lucky to be free.

xx
hh

Trash Wars

I alluded to this on my facebook page the other day, but I'd like to properly address it. If you missed it, my status was as follows:

"Holly Hutchens... witnessed a "Box War"... i.e. two elderly men fighting for boxes on the street. Why would two elderly men possibly do this, you ask?? Because the government pays people (usually the elderly population) to collect trash from the streets. Doesn't Korea have trash cans, you ask? No, that's what old people are for, apparently."

This is not a joke. When we first arrived in Seoul, we noticed that there was nowhere to throw our trash, yet there was not any trash on the streets. Where are people putting their trash, we asked. Eventually, we would see people set their trash on curb, on a fence post, really anywhere that wouldn't get directly stepped on. I remember the first time that David threw trash on the ground--it was a small paper cup, previously filled with either coffee or dokbokki (see my food blog). I was flabbergasted that he'd litter because even though it's the culture here, it's not ours. However, I'm fully guilty of it now. Yes, Miss Save-the-Earth litters. I'm ashamed to admit it, but what other choice do I really have? I either have to carry my trash with me in hand or in my purse everywhere I go, which is extremely inconvenient when I have to take subways and buses and walk all over the city. Normally, I'd say, yes, of course, the Earth is worth it. However, here, I am assured that my trash will be picked up within the next 12 hours by some elderly folk. Every morning and night, they comb the streets, crooked backs hunched over picking up my popsicle wrappers, soda bottles, whatever. Seriously, though, it's kind of smart. A great way to make a little extra cash? Or perhaps make a living. Don't quit your day jobs just yet, though, as it's quite a competitive business. It's on par with drug and prostitution corners--everyone has their territory, and invading on someone else's could get you killed. I'm kidding. Who would kill over trash? That's ridiculous, but you might get your ass kicked or a good talkin' to. Take today, for example: While Elderly Man A was scouting out a building for boxes, Elderly Man B grabbed Elderly Man A's pile of boxes (These boxes were stacked so high, I don't think elderly man B could see where he was running). Convenient Store Man warned Elderly Man A. Elderly Man A ran after him yelling what I can only imagine were profanities. Elderly Man B smiled, laughed, probably apologized, and handed over the stolen goods. Is it bad that I was laughing the whole time?

I say, "Way to go, Korea!" Way to create jobs for those who otherwise wouldn't be qualified for anything. Or those who were oppressed by the Japanese and had no opportunities for education.

xx
hh

The Missing P's

What makes a student successful? Good teachers? Good schools? Good parents? Good communities? Wealth or socioeconomic status? God-given talent? Hard work? Pure luck?

I can narrow it down to two things. They are the two biggest differences I have observed between Korean students and American students.

I teach in a private language academy--we strictly teach English, nothing else--to kids in grades 1-6, AFTER the regular school day. I can't speak for public schools, where students are learning all subjects, but I have NOT noticed a big difference in behavior. Kids here misbehave just as much as their American counterparts. They goof off, get off-task, daydream, forget their books at home, don't do their homework, talk to their friends in class--everything I was led to believe simply didn't happen here, which is why I originally believed they did so much better than us. Don't get me wrong--I didn't come here to escape from American children. I loved my students at home, but I've been wondering what makes the test scores of other countries higher than in the United States. I worked hours upon hours of every day, non-stop, exhausting myself to no end to make my lessons engaging and encompassing multiple uses of intelligence--like I was taught and expected to. Teachers and schools word hard. Really hard. Probably the hardest working people in America. So the blame can't rest solely on us.

Here are my ideas:

1. Parental support.

Parents have extremely high expectations for their children in Korea and push them harder than American parents do. In fact, the suicide rate for pre-teens and teens is sickeningly high. The pressure is really on here. Parents at the academy I work at actually get upset if we don't give enough homework. Parents will even pull their kids out of one academy and place them in one that has a reputation for giving more homework. This, needless to say, never happened to me in America. Parents sit with them while they do homework, test them while they study, get involved in whatever way they can. Education doesn't start or stop at school but continues in the home. They nurture their children's minds. Once when I visited a museum on a Saturday afternoon, I saw a group of what I would guess were third or fourth graders. They were taking notes on each exhibition. Whether they were with their parents or with their teacher, I wasn't sure, but I was impressed. How many American students get the opportunity to visit a museum or any other educational institution on a random Saturday afternoon? The successul ones. Parents here are constantly stimulating their children with useful, educational information, making them into hard-working, self-reliant students. It may be a cultural difference, but it's a big one. High expectations translate into success.

2. Practice, practice, practice.

Kids are in school or academy (math, English, science, music) all day. The students at my academy attend classes here for an average of 3 hours. Some come early for something called E-camp, an computer program to improve listening and speaking skills. Most stay for a daily vocabulary test and to make up any homework they did not complete for that day's class. In the regular school day, for elementary students, school starts at 8:30 AM and ends around 2:30 PM. Middle school and high school students: 7:00 AM to 4:00 PM. In addition, high school students either stay at school to study or attend private academies (like mine) until about 10:00 PM. If you do the math, that's 15 hours of studying in an educational institution, not to mention the homework and studying they need to complete outside of school and academy. About a year ago or so, a new law was passed forbading academies from running past 10 PM because students were staying in academies until 2 to 3 AM in the morning, and this was deemed unhealthy. A student texted me once on a Sunday morning around 10:30 to say hello. When I asked what she was doing, she said, "studying." Three extra hours of studying/academy per day times 5 days a week translates to 15 hours more than American students are doing.
Guess how many months Korean students get off for summer vacation? One. That means they are in school TWO MONTHS more than ours each school year. 8 weeks of school times 7 hours per day (regular school) plus the extra 3 hours of academy per day translates to 560 more hours of school and studying than American students. After doing the math, I've just realized something. Korean kids go to school on Saturdays too--two Saturdays per month for about 4 hours. SO, that's 4 hours times 2 times per month times 10 months of schooling (They get time off in the winter, too) plus the original 560 hours, for a grand total of... 640 hours. Is it any wonder they are blowing us out of the water?

Perhaps our schools ARE doing enough--in the time given. A typical American school day lasts from about 8 AM to 3 PM. Is this enough time? The test scores show it: we are falling behind. Therefore, our measily 7-hour days just aren't cutting it If we want to compete with the world, we've got to increase the length of a school day and decrease the number of summer vacation days. As a teacher, who works her tail off, this does not exactly appeal to me either. Sometimes I'm ready to throw in the towel by lunch from pure exhaustion from being on my feet (usually in heels) for 4-5 hours tending to the needs of my students.

Are the teachers that much better here in Korea? Absolutely not. Do the schools have better resources--more books and computers? Not necessarily. Why are we blaming teachers and schools for failing kids? Maybe students simply need more practice than what 7 hours can provide. More studying, I can guarantee, will lead to higher overall test scores.

We know the two big issues--parental support and practice, so what do we do about it? What are students doing when they get home? Sleeping, watching TV, playing sports, sitting at the computer, eating, playing video games? Did I mention that Korean students manage to do all these things too--along with studying? You will see kids playing at the park until midnight. Young children only get about 6 hours of sleep every night, while high schoolers I've heard get about 3 or 4 hours. I'm not asking parents or students to sacrifice their health but to better balance learning with "fun." . We don't have after-school academies in America. Some schools support after-school programs, but how many students participate and who participates? Not many attend, and those who do probably are already successful in school. Should schools require that students stay after school? Would academies be successful in America? Can we convince parents to pay for extra education? Can we convince students to go?

After writing the first draft of this blog, I got deeper and deeper into a book called Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. This book outlines what makes successful people successful, and while I'm not finished with the book, I'm starting to see a pattern. People don't luck into success, and they don't necessarily get there on their own either. There are many factors that go into a successful person (ethnicity, cultural upbringing, the century or decade you were born in, unique opportunities given to you), but can you guess the two that stood out to me the most--what really separates successful students from unsuccessful students? You guessed it: parental support and practice. In one study discussed in Outliers by Karl Alexander, he tested the math scores of children from low, middle, and high income households. From September to June, students made obvious advances in math. Sometimes low-income students even outperformed their high-income counterparts. However, when students were tested in September, after the three-month long summer break, the high-income students outperformed the low-come students by more than 40%. What does that tell us then? High-income students are given more opportunities to learn over the summer. Their parents take them to museums, the library, vacations--various activities and resources are at their disposal. Not so for the low-income students. Gladwell writes, "...the way in which education has been discussed in the United States is backwards. An enormous amount of time is spent talking about reducing class size, rewriting curricula, ...increasing school funding--all of which assumes that there is something... wrong with the jobs schools are doing... Schools work. The only problem with school, for the kids who aren't achieving, is that there isn't enough of it."

xx
hh

The Eating Experience

Korea is full of such a variety of delicious, unique dishes that you won't miss your steak or potatoes back home. In the states, I mostly stuck to sandwiches, salads, fruit, cereal--ya know, typical homemade, quick-n-easy stuff--not to mention the amount of microwavable meals (Healthy Choice only) was quite high as well. And of course I treated myself to burgers and fries on occasion. It's like a whole new world here though, and I wanted to try everything and anything I could because, well, why not? I thought I'd give a run down of the best types of foods that Koreans have to offer. If the topic of food ever comes up in class, my students will inevitably ask, "Teacher, you like kimchi?" And my answer is invariably, "Yes, I love kimchi!" It pleases them to no end. On the topic of pleasing Koreans, to noticably enjoy a Korean's food or really just to simply consume it in their presence gives them great pride in themselves as a people--if a westerner enjoyed a strange eastern dish, it must have been extra special. This equally pleases me.
So here's the low down...

1. Kimchi - pickled cabbage loaded with spices, served with every meal--even breakfast. It' extremel difficult to make yourself as my students and coworkers tell me. One day, I saw a group of older women making kimchi for the winter on huge tarps. I think an organization was sending this food to the armies. Kimchi is pickled in large clay pots and supposedly stored underground in the winter months where it gets yummier and yummier. You can tell how fresh your kimchi is by its taste--if it doesn't taste great, it's fresh.

2. Bap - or as we like to call it in English, rice. Obviously, rice is a big deal in Asia. Kids tell me that they eat rice for breakfast, sometimes plain, sometimes with milk, but most of the time with kimchi. David and I inherited a rice cooker from a friend, and we have been using it about 4-5 times a week since. What a genius device!

3. Galbi - Gabli is a general term for meats grilled at your table and served with lots and lots of side dishes that are refillable at your request. Our favorite local place serves an amazing salad with a vinegarette dressing--we usually go through three of them. They give you spicy kimchi, spiceless kimchi, onions, fresh garlic, a burnt orange-colored sauce that is oh-so yummy, and lettuce leaves. For about $1, you can order a side of rice that comes with jiggae, which I'll explain later. The technique: take a leaf of lettuce, spoon a small amount of rice on top, add a small piece of cooked meat from the grill built into your table, add a sliced onion and grilled garlic, add sauce with your chopsticks, maybe throw a piece of kimchi on there too, and then wrap it up and munch away! This is, by far, my favorite thing to eat in Korea. I crave it at all times. It will fill your belly for days.

4. Dukgalbi - Similar to galbi only in that this dish is cooked on the grill that is built into your table. This dish consists of chicken and loads of vegetables (onions, leeks, carrots) tossed in a teryaki (sp?) type sauce. The waiter mixes it while it cooks every few minutes, so you don't have to do any work. Once he or she gives you the signal that it's ready, everyone shares from the large pan.

5. Kimchi jeem - There is a great place near our apartment that my Korean coworker introduced us to that serves this dish. Again, you sit at a table with a grill in the center (or in the case of this restaurant, it's a stove top burner). A full head of cabbage is steamed and stewed with yummy red spices and chunks of pork. They also throw in some tofu, which isn't actually too bad. This place also serves loads of side dishes like japchae noodles, salad with raisins and creamy dressing, and obviously kimchi! This is a favorite of ours.

6. Jiggae - Jiggae is a soupy stew with tofu cubes, onions, jalapenos, green onion-type vegetables, and yummy spices. You can also order this as kimchi jiggae or chomchi (tuna) jiggae. It's orange-red colored, so I'm guessing the spices used are similar to those used in making kimchi. It's always served with rice. Scoop up some rice with your spoon (rice is only eaten with a spoon--not chopsticks) and then dip it into the jiggae, picking up some tofu or onions. Be careful, though, it's served very hot.

7. Dokbokki - compacted rice that comes in many shapes. At street vendors, it is the shape of a breakfast sausage. It's served with an orange-colored, spicy sauce. The texture is strange, unlike anything I've ever felt, maybe most comparable to a gummy worm. I wasn't fond of it at first, but now I crave it. (Note about dokbokki: this is made from leftover rice that is then compacted into any desirable shape. It is impolite and wasteful to ever leave rice on your plate, so dokbokki is a great solution. If you make the journey to Korea, or really anywhere in Asia, always finish your rice, and never leave your spoon or chopsticks sitting in your rice bowl--very rude!)

8. Mandu - This is most comparable to a dumpling. They're stuffed with meat, clear noodles, chopped onions, green veggies, and special ordered with kimchi. You can dip them in a sortof soy sauce, but they are just as good without it. We bought a big frozen bag of them from the supermarket, and I noticed they are not too high in calories.

9. Fried anything - Street vendors line the street that I live on because there are so many English academies (hagwons) on this block. Since kids spend most of their time in school or academies (math, English, writing, you name it), they need to fill their brains with energy for all that learning. Vendors sell fried carrots, potatoes, corn dogs, chicken-on-a-stick, blood sausage, mandu, again, you name it. I pretty much avoid those places.

10. Waffles - Waffles are apparently a huge fad here at the moment, like anything else in Korea. They make them right on the street or in the subway station (imagine that smell filling the tunnels..Mmmmm..) in waffle-makers under tents. They smear a honey-like spread all over it then coat it in a mousse-like vanilla or chocolate icing. For ean extra 500 won (45 cents), they can add vanilla or green tea ice cream. David and I will order one waffle (about 90 cents) and split it because these things can't be to great for our health.

Are you hungry yet?

xx
hh

Images above are not my own:
Bottom left - Galbi
Bottom right - Jiggae
Top left - Kimchi
Top right - Mandu

Fun with Korean

This is what it's like to read a sign in Korea that is splashed with English:

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Coca Cola blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Chicken blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Love for Women blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Pizza blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Free Drinks blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

It's really fun.

xx
hh

Keep Right, PLEASE!

Who has the right of way? No one. There is no "right of way" to speak of in Korea. The traffic here could quite possibly get you killed, whether you're a passenger or a pedestrian. Here are some general non-rules of the road:
1. Stoplights mean nothing. If you have the green light, that doesn't necessarily mean that cars coming from the perpendicular direction will stop. Oh no, a red light simple means look very carefully before crossing through the intersection. You won't see too many cars doing this, but when it comes to motorcycles/mopeds and public buses, watch out.
2. Lines mean nothing. Lines? Who needs to stay in the lines when you can squeeze your way to the front of any line of cars by using the left or right turn lanes, perhaps even the lanes for oncoming traffic. Don't you love that feeling when you are the first in line at a stop light (unless, of course, you just missed the green. Then it sucks)? It is a short-lived thrill in this country as drivers tend to steal that thunder right from under you at any chance they get to save themselves 4 seconds of waiting at a light.

So what's it like to be a pedestrian in a city of 10+ million? A rule to stick by is as follows: Never be the first or the last person in a crosswalk. This one simple rule could save your life here, and it's one I try to follow--unless I'm in a super-big hurry, then I just run for dear life as the crosswalk's red hand flashes, warning that "death awaits you!" I'd like to think that in America and most countries, no matter how busy or crowded, there's a general unspoken rule to keep right and walk in a straight line unless avoiding obstacles like parking meters, other people, trash cans, etc. Here in Seoul, I could be walking towards another person on the sidewalk, both of us on opposite sides, and suddenly, without warning, they will cross over onto my side, nearly knock me over, possibly brush my arms with their arms, and pass me to their left. Unless you are in Australia or England, this is completely ridiculous--pass on the left??! No, friends, you pass on your right. That way, everyone avoids each other when walking in opposing directions. Why has this not caught on yet? In fact, I heard that for the World Cup, Seoul introduced a campaign to teach pedestrian etiquette to its Seoulites. In subways now, there are arrows on the ground to help remind people to stay right when walking up and down stairs. I'd say 75% of people ignore these arrows. I'd also say that without 99-100% participation in this rule, it's pretty much ineffective. It really only take a small number of people to cause major congestion and muck up the flow.

Needless to say, it only takes one day, maybe even one moment, in this country to realize that there is a major issue here with order on the streets. It was the first major difference that I noticed, and from time to time, becomes a bit of a stressor for me. Relaxing walks in the park around the track? Not so relaxing when groups of older women stretched across the entire width of the road dilly-dally and zigzag, perhaps even stop to stretch, as you try to pass them. It's like they know a waegook is approaching! It's frustrating, to say the least. But David and I have a laugh about it almost everyday, "You'll never guess how I got cut off today!"

I still love you, Korea.

xx
hh

Note: "Waegook" means any foreign westerner (basically a white person). And when you hear that word in public, they are definitely talking about you.
Another Key note: This is literally the city where the streets have no names. Good luck finding your way around!

A, Ya, Eo, Yeo (ㅏ, ㅑ, ㅓ, ㅕ)

Today it's been 3 months since I arrived in Seoul. If you've read the story about the flight to get here, then you know how stressed that first day must have been. In the taxi ride to my apartment from the airport, I was pretty much terrified. Looking at the traffic signs on the highway and the shops and restaurants lit in neon lights on the hour-trek there, I wondered how I'd survive in a country where I did not know the language. I thought about my ancestors who came from Germany and Syria. And I still think about the melting pot that is American culture today. So many have managed to survive in a world so different from their norm. But is it normal to be scared? Why wasn't I scared 24 hours ago? I have a tendency to put off... well, everything--even my feelings. It literally didn't hit me until the day before I left for Korea --that I was leaving for Korea. I put off being sad to leave my family (and dogs) and friends. I convinced myself that a year wasn't all that long, heck, I remembered my college graduation like it was yesterday, and it was TWO years ago. So how long could a year feel in a foreign country? Day 1 felt like a week. My first thoughts on my day one went something like this: How will I eat? How will I find my way around the city? How will I meet people? How will I read signs? How will I survive here? I'd say I was in panic mode. Like, what the heck was I thinking? How cocky could I be to think I could function in Korea??

Piece of advice number one. Learn the language of the country you move to. Life will be much more pleasant. So I did. I actually taught myself to read the Korean alphabet. I started off slow, used my teacher skills on myself. I chunked my learning, memorizing 4 letters at a time and repeating them outloud and writing them on paper as many times as I could fit on one line. If you heard me in those early days, you'd practically hear me saying these first four sounds in my sleep, "a, ya, eo, yeo" (ㅏ, ㅑ, ㅓ, ㅕ). Slowly, but surely, I learned all the letters. There is a restaurant we go to about 5 times a week whose menu is solely in Korean--no pictures, no English, just Korean. That was great practice. I learned my letters, pronunciation, and types of foods all rolled into about 5 minutes. Now, three months later, I know more phrases, and though I seldom practice them in real-life, I am still proud to use them to impress my students. I pull out the phrase, "chincha," for the kids, and they oooohhhh and aaaahhhh at me (chincha=really? or seriously?). Youtube has some really great videos (busyatom) that teach special case rules about the language, which are probably unnecessary for me to learn, but regardless, I like knowing them. Things are looking up now on the language front. That, simultaneously, relieves enormous amounts of stress from everyday life.

If you were wondering... yes, I still get stared at. And children still stop to say hello or simply wave. I am still a celebrity. And I still kinda like it.

xx
hh

Image: http://thinkzone.wlonk.com/Language/Korean-big.gif

Baby, It's Cold Outside...

Let's be honest: No one likes the cold. Not unless, of course, you are from Canada. It's not pleasant. Your skin dries and cracks up. You look pale and sickly. All you want to do is cuddle under thick warm blankets. Forget the outside world, you are hibernating for the winter. Then, you pack on the pounds and hide it under layers of sweaters and scarves, then promise yourself you will get to the gym come April.

This is my excuse for not blogging. For the past month, I've basically been in hiding from the tundra that is Seoul right now. I'm pale, I'm a little overweight, and I'm really, really cold. It's no colder than St. Louis though. I am at about the same parallel (just south of the 38th parallel) and in the same climate type - temperate. I'm really kicking myself in the a** for not choosing a warmer place like I had intended. Last winter, I kept telling myself that I was going to escape winter this time around and move to Central/South America. Sadly, I made my travel plans in August, where summer's heat tricked me into believing that winter wouldn't be so bad--some relief from this sticky, humid air, even. And now that it's here, all I want is for the summer to come back to me.

In conclusion, if you need to find me, I'll be curled up on my ondol floors*, sleeping like a grizzly.

xx
hh

*Note: Ondol floors: Korean-style heating system where pipes running hot water under the floors heats the entire apartment

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

Gamsa hamnida!

... "Thank you!" in Korean.

Happy Thanksgiving! It's clearly not the same in Korea, but we did have a wonderful dinner with some other Americans and Canadians (even though their Thanksgiving was October 10th) this past Sunday with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, veggies, fruit, rolls, deviled eggs (David and I brought), pumpkin and apple pie, chocolate mousse, and much more! It's always a good idea to reflect upon the things that you are grateful for on this day, so I've compiled a list. If you are reading this, you will find yourself on it below ;)

What I’m Thankful for in Korea (in no specific order)
1. Kimchi - Spicy cabbage served virtually at every meal, so delicious, I could eat it alone all day, every day.

2. Yumsem - This is our favorite restaurant by far. We literally go there everyday. As I write this, I am digesting an omurice (rice wrapped in an omelet coated with a red/brownish sauce and mustard). They have very cheap kimbap as well, about 2500 won per roll (less than $2.50). Kimbap is the Korean version of sushi. They put yellow radish and a strange brown stringy vegetable instead of avocado and cucumber. There’s also egg, ham, and rice in there, wrapped in seaweed. My favorite is, of course, kimchi kimbap.

3. Crosswalks - Cars (well, the people inside of them) don’t follow any real rules of the road. Lines? Forget ‘em. Stop at a red light? Neh, just honk your horn as you pass through. Crosswalks are the only way to go to get across the street - but you still gotta look both ways ;)

4. Etude House - A cute little shop with make-up, nail polish, and scented sprays and soaps. It’s pretty cheap--drugstore prices for the most part--and the body sprays are scrumptious. It’s kind of like Sephora, where you can test out everything, which, of course, I do.

5. Poped Corn - Now, you’re probably thinking, “poped” corn? Holly, don’t you mean “popped” corn? Nope, it’s on the bag: Poped Corn. It’s actually not even popcorn. It’s a lot like the cereal Pops, and it is so freaking good, great with milk even though it’s in the snack isle. We also really like the typo, that makes it more special.

6. Galbi - There is a place that is a 2500 won cab ride away that is 8900 won all-you-can-eat galbi (barbeque). You grab meats, veggies, rice, etc., from the buffet and sit around a grill at your table and cook it yourself. Put a little rice, meat, toasted garlic, and hot sauces onto a piece of lettuce and eat it as a wrap. Divine. This place also has a pumpkin porridge that is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. It’s clumpy, and it’s yellow, and it’s sweet and steamy--yum!

7. My cleaning lady - aka David. It’s pretty awesome to come home from work to a clean house and clean clothes. Oh, and it’s also nice to come home to my best friend.

What I’m Not So Thankful for in Korea
1. Stares - Sometimes I want to look ugly. I don’t want to wear make-up. I want to wear pj’s outside of my apartment. But then some Korean will think that ALL Americans are unkempt slobs. I know they are watching. On the other hand, it's pretty adorable when little kids wave and yell hi from far away to get our attention. Today, while David and I were on an exploration walk (one where we just wander and make random turns, not knowing where it’ll lead us), a little girl dressed in all pink stared up at David (who is 6’4”) as she approached us, as she passed us, and after we walked by. Her mouth was wide open. Those are cherished moments.

2. Not being able to speak Korean - I’m working on the alphabet right now. I know 8 vowels, so I can read approximately 1/5 of the language. Imagine if you could only read 1/5 of a sign or a menu--it doesn’t really work. Give me time. I will never be able to speak it, but I know lots of key phrases: yes, no, give me please, thank you, hello, goodbye, here, come here please, really?, hooray, I love you, and of course, various foods like kimbap, bulgogi, dongas, galbi, etc. The upside to this is that David and I can talk really fast in English and pretty much no one will understand a thing we said. So if I don't like someone's shoes sitting next to me on the subway, I can say, "David, the person sitting next to me has wretched shoes." Then again, I could be talking about David. Also, this would never happen because everyone has nice shoes here.

Things I Miss in America

1. Family, friends, and Lucy and Louie (and Copper, I guess)

2. Supernanny and Clean House - I was watching these two shows obsessively on TV for about a month or so before I left. Two great lessons learned: Do not have children unless you are willing to raise them. Do not keep shit you don’t need.

3. A Soft Bed - Our bed here is like a wooden board. A thin layer of cloth separates rows of stiff metal springs. I keep thinking that I’ll get used to it, but every morning I wake up and can’t move my neck. I miss memory foam.

4. Honey Nut Cheerios + Fiber One + Sliced Bananas + Blueberries = The reason to get up in the morning - I can get Cheerios at Costco, but I’m not sure how much they’ll cost. Cereal here is quite pricey and the large grocery store we go to doesn’t have a huge selection--maybe 12-- and they are things like Fruit Loops, Cocoa Crisp, and Frosted Flakes, all written in Korean and many with their own Korean cartoon characters. I’m making due with a box of Frosted Flakes with Almonds.

xx
hh

P.S. Linnea, if you read these SO often to occupy yourself at work, why aren't you my follower? Huh?!

Corporal Punishment

From what I've heard, corporal punishment is an accepted and expected form of discipline in schools in Korea--from Korean teachers, not Westerners. Students understand that if they misbehave, that's the consequence--a good whipping. There are even special rooms in public schools for it. Hogwons (English schools) are a little different, less strict for sure.

I was, to say the least, shocked at the corporal punishment received by a student from the principal last week. In the middle of class, a student shouted out, "F*@& you, f*@& you, f*@& you," --not AT anyone, just said it aloud. This child is notorious for misbehaving. I sent him to the hall to do his work because I knew that the principal would see him there and would come investigate. A knock on my door five minutes later, and there she was. When she asked why he was there, I told her that he said "F you, f you, f you," and she seemed confused. I cupped my hand and whispered into her eye what the F stood for. She yelled, "F*@& you, f*@& you, f*@&??????" in front of the entire class. I went wide-eyed. I didn't exactly expect that! She proceeded to smack him on the arm and yell some Korean at him. The student laughed, she laughed, and then she kicked him on the rear and thigh, and yelled some more Korean. It was more of a playful scolding than a beating. It worked. He behaved for the rest of class.

Why can't we do this in America?

So this happens quite a lot here, and I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it. I know there are gobs of studies out there that say violence to a child has lasting negative effects that linger into adulthood. But crime is Korea is extremely low. So is smacking/whipping/spanking a misbehaving student all that bad if it works? Especially if it's accepted in your culture? I don't know, but I do know I'm not willing to give it a go.

xx
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