Dear Korea, |
Blogging | October 27, 2010
Dear Korea,
We’ve known each other for a while now, so I feel we are close enough for me to be able to just come out and say this.
You’re pretty weird. Not that it’s a bad thing. But it’s true. You are. My grade five teacher might even say that you’re a few kangaroos short of a paddock, but he was pretty weird too.
It is funny how time and forced proximity can turn what in the real world is bat shit crazy, into a mere personality quirk though.
What would be quite traumatic events in Australia, inevitably end up coated in the sepia shades of memory, with all the sharp edges blurred to a warm fuzziness.
So when I think of the time I came home from work to find the pest control man wearing one of my skirts while dancing around my apartment, I just don a sideways smile and think “oh Korea”.
The crazy man at the subway who would not stop muttering “do you know?” while shoving his accusatory finger in my face before deciding to rip my earring from my lobe in front of a subway car of “isn’t it great that foreigners are invisible because we can’t see anything” Koreans, is now just thought of as Mr Crazy.
Admittedly, Mr Crazy is thought of less fondly than the Pesty Groover, but that’s because he also tried to push me in front of a train. In a few more years that sepia coating will probably transform Mr Crazy into Mr Grabby.
Being mistaken for a Russian prostitute is actually kinda funny when you think about it. While mum didn’t find it quite as amusing when that man offered me $300 for coffee and “happy time” in front of her at Insadong last week, she doesn’t know you like I do.
Also, when you told me I was HIV positive, I knew you were just joking. Obviously, it was impossible. I knew it was just your weird sense of humour that made you mark the test as positive, when what you really meant to do was repeat the test because something went wrong in the process. Hi-larious.
(Just a tip K – this would have been less hi-larious for one of my many colleagues who whored themselves around south-east Asia during the summer vacation. So I would be a little careful on who I played this particular joke.)
Some would say that the little old man who told the guard who told the policeman that I was stealing my own bicycle was accusing me, but really, I just know that you were being a bit weird. My hands were full, so unlocking the combination to my lock was taking a little longer than usual, but only an anal-bitter-crazy person would seriously mistake a girl opening a bicycle combination for a mint green and white polka-dotted bike for a thief based on their non-Koreaness.
Given that it was only last week that I spent more than 10 minutes explaining first to the man, then to the guard he called, then to the policeman that the bike was mine before I was allowed to continue on my way home, I am still feeling residual weirdness coating that particular memory.
Yet even as I write this to you, I feel a smile beginning to haunt the edges of that particular memory and I can feel the sepia start to creep in already.
Before you know it, that old man and I will be having tea in my mind, discussing the hilarity in that he once thought foreigners weren’t allowed to buy bikes, which is why he thought I was stealing mine.
Anyways K, stay weird.
Me xoxoxox
Blogging | October 14, 2010
Dear Korea,
How are things?
And stuff? How is stuff? Good?
I just ask, because well, because I am bored.
I am at work after all. I’m bored a lot of the time.
Saying hello 300 times a day and trying to explain the difference between nice to meet you and nice to see you for the millionth time, does tend to beat down your enthusiasm.
Still, I am a Facebook master now.
I have no idea what English teachers did before Facebook and I am not sure I want to find out. I am pretty sure that those English teachers are the ones I see hanging out in Itaewon during the week, smoking and twitching outside Starbucks so they can use the free wifi but not actually buying anything because “do you know how much that stuff costs and besides, a Maxim sachet in lukewarm water tastes just as good in a paper cup”. Like the cross-eyed guy I met last week who stopped to speak to me while I was in the middle of a conversation with a Korean friend to tell me that he “wasn’t sure if committing to a 12 month contract was a good idea in Korea, because the job he had now allowed him to teach in Malaysia for two months and then in Seoul for two months and then back in Malaysia again and his employer was really good and warned his student’s parents that this was just his style and if they weren’t happy with his style, then they shouldn’t sign their kids up for his class, even though he got results and really, he’d heard some pretty bad things about Korean hagwons but he didn’t want to teach in a public school because his parents were both teachers in the States and his brother was a teacher and he was more of the black sheep of the family and it wasn’t that he had anything against his parents or family, but he was just a bit different to them and had tried to be independent his whole life and he was scared that if he went into the public system then he would be turning into them and that is not what he wanted because it was just his friend whose parents were police officers said, if he was ever to become a police officer, then he would be the most corrupt police officer out there because he would have had to have done things differently to his parents, but really the public school system was the best way to go in Korea but would I be interested in teaching in Malaysia for two months, because he could put in a word for me and we really should stay in touch”.
Our contact prior to this eight minute monologue, which was performed with my Korean friend staring in shock inspired mute awe serving as audience, had included me walking past him as I went inside the Starbucks he was sitting outside so as to steal wifi.
Seriously K, you could not make this stuff up.
But back to Facebook.
I have found Facebook has simultaneously made my life brighter while also sucking it away during this time I have spent with you.
And I’m not alone SoKo. Not judging by my newsfeed anyway. While friends back in Oz seem to have lives which involve time away from Facebook, I am completely up-to-date with every thought, craving or point of interest your fellow paramours have had, felt or stumbled across.
Which leads to some very interesting conversations.
Such as today’s main topic of conversation – scones and how they differ from the American biscuit.
To wit: This following conversation appeared after MSA from the USA posted a link about scones and asked her boyfriend, the English RB to make them for her.
Me: A good scone will change your life.8 hours ago · Like
KP It looks like our version of a "biscuit"5 hours ago · Like
Me It is nothing like what you erroronously call a biscuit. It's best served with fresh jam and clotted cream and is a little piece of heaven in your mouth washed down with tea. I also quite like rasperry scones and the occasional savory scone, served with relish, all relish. I have included this link on relish, in case it is not readily available in your country. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiâ�¨ki/Relish5 hours ago · Like · 1 person
RB Would that savory scone also go well with a English chutney Amy?5 hours ago · Like
RB Also I think biscuits sound like a British dumpling but i still have no idea as I have yet to have one4 hours ago · Like
Me I do love me a proper English chutney. The relish remark is an injoke for Ms Seinor, who I am sure will stumble across it soon.4 hours ago · Like · 1 person
MSA i agree with kim...it looks incredibly similar to a biscuit, although i cannot be sure about the taste. regardless, i want one. i think an america vs. commonwealth bakeoff may be in order..4 hours ago · Like
Me As a bake-off implies baking and not frying, I would say the Commonwealth has this one owned.4 hours ago · Like
MSA biscuits are baked....ross once made my fried scones though.4 hours ago · Like
RB I made you fried crumpets which according to Saint Delia is the way to make them4 hours ago · Like
MSA oh yeah..4 hours ago · Like
KP "They’re not dissimilar to buttermilk biscuits, but generally richer, thanks to a not-insignificant amount of butter." Sounds like they're similar just that scones are more fattening.4 hours ago · Like
Me After intense internet research your erroronously named 'biscuits' seem quite similiar to a savory scone. I am not sure about this gravy business though.4 hours ago · Like
KP I'm doing a bit of research as well. Fun fact "The word cookie comes from the Dutch and probably ended up being an American word (cookie) due to the heavy influence of Dutch settlers." Not finding too much on biscuit though.3 hours ago · Like
RB The gravy is white! always image gravy to be brown3 hours ago · Like
Me I love our threads.3 hours ago · Like
MSA gravy can be both white AND brown! this is what makes america so great.
and this clears up some biscuit confusion: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiâ�¨ki/Biscuit3 hours ago · Like
Me I also just found that - for those who can not be bothered going to a different link:
The modern-day confusion in the English language around the word biscuit is created by its etymology.
The Middle French word bescuit is derived from the Lat...See more 3 hours ago · Like
KP This is the wiki about the American term biscuit and why we use gravy with it. Just for clarification, I hate biscuits.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiâ�¨ki/Biscuit_(bread)3 hours ago · Like
KP ok the link won't work if you click but if you copy and paste it'll work.3 hours ago · Like
Me On a different note, at least biscuit is always pronounced biscuit. Scone on the other hand can be sk-own (like bone) which is how I say it, or sk-on (shone) which is how Blythe says it. We both consider the other to be wrong.3 hours ago · Like · 1 person
MSA what? then who will join me on the american bake-off team?3 hours ago · Like
KP I would but I can't cook. Oojin tried making biscuits in our toaster oven, so I'm sure he'd help. Or I can wear an ear piece while he tells me what to do.3 hours ago · Like
BS I'm hungry.3 hours ago · Like
BS If scones are baked at a location in Seoul, could I please have one? I'll bring the jam.3 hours ago · Like
Anyways, I’d love to stay and chat a bit more SK, but I have to go pretend to be an English teacher. And by that, I mean I have to stand in front of a class of your children and pretend to listen to them parrot “Can you help me? No problem”, while I’m really composing Facebook status updates in my head. So as you can clearly see, I’m exceptionally busy.
Love,
Me xoxox
Sport | September 29, 2010
Heya K,
So, things did change during our break.
My hair no longer looks like an escapee from a lesbian prison camp for one.
I'm not saying it's great or anything, but my Korean friends have at least stopped pointing to my head with a sympathetic look and a variation of "hair....so bad today - you have accident?"
Also, the last of the three pairs of jeans I bought from Australia died in a freak-barbed-wire-fence-jumping-incident.
They received the same ceremony as the jeans-which-died-in the freak- falling- spread-eagle-on-ice incident and the jeans which passed away after the freak-falling-down-stairs-while-drunk-dancing-incident.
That sad moment necessitated the Amy-needs-to-stop-eating-immediately-in-order-to-fit-into-a-pair-of-Korean-jeans incident, which began on the subway trip home after the jeans shopping experience and ended with the Amy-stuffing-her-face-to-forget-the-pain-because-while-Korean-denim-doesn't-love-her-carbs-do incident.
Also I bought a bike.
Her name is Esme. And I love her.
She is mint green with white polka dots and completely impractical in that she has a cane basket but not a lot of braking power.
But I found this note I wrote myself 24 hours after I bought her and thought I would share.
Bicycle cost - 200,000 won.
Bicycle cost after it was established prospective owner was not an American - 150,000 won.
Numbers of hours of bike ownership - 24
Number of crashes during bike ownership - 3
Number of scratches found on bicycle after first day of bike ownership - 2
Number of utilised signed bike paths which disappear into busy motorways where bikes are not recommended - 4
Number of near-death experiences - 8
Number of Koreans nearly hit by bicycle - 267
Number of Koreans actually hit by bicycle - 7
children - 3
adjummas - 3
non-descript Koreans - 1
Number of engagement/wedding ring searches in parks by the side of signed bike paths which disappear into busy motorways where bikes are not recommended - 2
Number of hysterical Korean women yelling at men while searching for engagement/wedding rings in parks by the side of signed bike paths which disappear into busy motorways where bikes are not recommended - 2
Number of engagement/wedding rings found - 0
Number of lights fitted to bicycle after bike purchase - 2
Number of lights left on bike after first 24 hours of bike ownership - 0
Number of muscles aching after first 24 hours of bike ownership - results still pending.
Anyways, K, I'd love to chat more, but I must peddle.
Yours in cardio-vascular fitness (or it could be if I peddled faster),
Me xoxo
South Korea | April 14, 2010
Dear class of 2010,
Don't drink soju in the middle of the week.
If I could offer you one piece of advice for your time in Korea, that would be it.
Studies have shown that drinking mid-week may think you can use a subway train as a personal dance space or fit an entire kebab into your mouth at once.
In reality, you will just end up falling over and throwing up or dropping most of the kebab, picking it up and eating it anyway and then throwing it up in a tea cup.
This will seem normal to you at the time. It will however, not seem so normal the following morning when the alarm goes off for work.
Brave souls continue to conduct studies on this very issue each and every working week in the hopes that their research will find a solution for us all.
Their results are well documented on Facebook and COPS.
The rest of my advice, is not,. However here it is anyway.
Don't be late for work. Seriously, don't be.
It is OK to turn up to school hung over and spend your day sleeping in the nurses office.
It is even OK to leave early for an appointment. But arrive at work one minute past the designated time and you will face the icy chill of co-workers. In that moment you will look back at the night before and wish you had not succumbed to soju. You are not hiding it as well as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Well worry, but realise that spending a year in Korea to work out what you want to do with said future is this generation's absinthe induced trip to Paris. It worked for Hemmingway and Wilde and I'm sure their parents told them they were wasting their lives back in the day. Just make sure you have wild stories to tell your grandchildren when they announce they are running off to a random Asian country instead of going to graduate school.
Do one thing every day which scares you. Like facing down an adjumma on the train.
Sing. In a Norebang. Not the street. Koreans already have the market cornered on drunken antics.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts - you'll be seeing an awful lot of them over the coming year. For a city of 11 million people, Seoul is an awfully small place.
Brush your teeth after lunch. .
Don't waste your time on Facebook. Reading what your friends are doing when you are not there can be depressing. And also kinda stalky. The days are long - find something else to fill them. Or your newsfeed will be two miles long.
Remember the compliments you receive are because Koreans think all foreigners are beautiful. Laugh at the insults. Most of the time they are compliments in Konglish. As a general rule Koreans are blunt. This is why they are so funny.
Keep at least one bank statement. It may be the only time in your life you see that many zeros in your account.
Avoid the bakeries.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life...but try and work it out before you wake up and you are 50 and standing in Itaewon feeling bitter about how things turned out. Drink plenty of water. But not from the tap.
Be kind to your new friends. You'll miss them when they are gone and you have re-contracted.
Maybe you'll find Nutella, maybe you won't, maybe you'll stumble across crumpets, maybe you'll develop a love for a food you never wanted at home before. What ever you do, don't whinge about it every too seconds or complain too much about kimchi and spicy foods. It was your choice to come here and it's Asia. They have different food. Deal.
Use your body. In every way you can. Communication is 90 per cent non verbal. Act like you have never acted before and you will find toilet paper or get a pharmacist to hand over contraceptive pills.
Visit a jinjibang. Revel in your nakedness. Ignore the stares. Men you're bigger, women, you're whiter and chances are you have less hair. There is a lot of full bush action happening in that place. Keep your eyes up.
Look at the pictures on the packet but don't expect them to reveal what is inside the packet.
Do NOT look in the subway mirrors at six in the morning, they will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your co-teachers, they own you and you never know when you'll need to call them because you are locked out of your apartment.. Be nice to your building manager - he is probably the one who will let you back in.
Understand that friends come and go, because this is Korea and that is the way things go. Make at least one friend you plan to keep in contact with. Because no one else will find your Korea stories quite as funny.
Visit Korean Cupid once but leave before it makes you say things like "I only date Korean women now". Visit Zen bar in Hongdae once but leave before you hear things like "We were only ever just friends".
Travel. You are living in the half way mark of the world and Asia has never seemed so cheap.
Accept certain inalienable truths: adjummas will barrel you over in the subway, old men will spit on the footpath in front of you and if you are tall and blonde people will assume you are a Russian prositute. You are not the only one this is happening to.
Respect your elders. They have canes and bad attitudes and will take you out if you don't give up that seat.
Dont expect anyone else to support you. We all earn about the same. Street food is cheap. Ramen is cheaper. Learn to love both.
Don't allow a Korean hairdresser to mess too much with your hair, or by the time you walk out you will wonder how you ended up with a blunt fringe and a-symetrical hair.
Be careful whose advice you take - people who have been here too long tend hate life. They know everything and anything about Korea except how it feels to look at it through fresh eyes and their advice is coloured by bitterness and sprinkled with bad facial hair.
But trust me on the soju.
Blogging | March 19, 2010
Hey K,
I have been a social hermit for a while now. Sorry. It is nothing personal, but with Alex gone and oma.....I'm just a little emotionally drained.
But drip by drip I have been filling up the tank again and a lot of that has to do with you.
You and the fact that you are completely crazy insane mental. Thanks for that. It has really helped.
Really. The child you sent me to say he wants to "very much sex Princess Jasmine"? Loved it.
Snow, then yellow dust, then blue sky, then snow, then blue sky? Gold.
Getting my building manager to walk into my apartment, find me coming out of the bathroom, scream and then flee my apartment? An absolute classic.
I assume the building manager was coming in to tell me the pest control man (not the same one you sent who was trying on my skirt that one time when I walked in - another one) was coming.
However I found out about him the hard way when he came in, saw I was in the shower, screamed and fled the apartment. Seriously - the man only saw my ankles. I may be no oil painting but a little ankle never hurt anybody.
But after those two incidents, I appreciate the stern talking to you gave my building manager, in the guise of a co-worker, to stop coming into my apartment - even if it is only to let the pest control man in.
Yet there is my beef.
After seven months, I should be able to tell the building manager to stay the hell out of my apartment. Korea - why haven't you downloaded into my brain yet?
Your language is hard. And illogical. But that is mostly because I just don't get languages.
You know that. It was part of the deal. I walk into your schools, pretend to know the finer points of the English language but mostly spend my time correcting Jew to zoo and chopping off the extra e sound your people put onto words like orange and sheet. (For the last time Korea, it is not orange-ee or sheet-ee. I don't even know where you got sheet-ee from but it has to stop.)
Strangely though, it seems I have to learn your language. Here I was thinking the language of love was universal, but apparently not. Because Korea, I get the feeling that you just don't understand me. Which is fine. I don't really understand you either.
I have become excellent at charades but you and I both know that it is time for that to stop. Mostly because I have a friend coming to see you who was in a relationship with you for about four months ten years ago and she has forgotten more Korean than I will ever know.
Also because I am sick and tired of not knowing what is in my food.
So you win Korea. We said we wouldn't change each other, but this is one battle I am too tired to fight any longer. I'm sucking it up and going to at least pretend to learn your language.
I said pretend because while there are many things you may force me to adapt to, procrastination is one thing you shall never beat out of me. But we shall see. I imagine if you send the building manager in one more time, that will probably force the issue between us.
Yours,
Me xoxox
Blogging | February 20, 2010
Hi Korea,
Don't take this too personally. But I am sad today. Really, heart-wrenchingly empty vessel like sad. And wishing I was anywhere but here.
Well not anywhere. Home. Australia. With my family.
My oma died today. At 5am. She slipped away in her sleep, with flowers on her bedside table and neatly brushed hair.
But not me. I wasn't there.
Which is silly to think about because even if I was in Australia, I don't know if I would have been at her side at that time in the morning. But I like to think that I would have been. She was at my side for all the moments which counted and she supported me in ways I will never be able to thank her for now.
I saw her just one day before I left for you. She was in hospital, having taken a fall at her home and fracturing her pelvis. In what had been becoming more frequent in those last visits, she did not recognise me.
Her mind was in the past by then. I was a five year old little girl, her long-deceased husband was paying regular visits to her and she had lengthy chats with her dead brother and sister.
But she was still my oma. She told me that travel was good for a person's soul and the best education one could give themselves.
She told me that family was not a place but something you took with you and built upon no matter where in the world you were.
She punched the doctor through the curtain which seperated the public hospital beds after he accidently bumped her while examining the patient next to her and then, with innocence in her eyes, she took in his shocked expression and apologised if she had hit him too hard.
She wondered how the woman in the bed across from her had managed to get so fat and then decided to ask her. Loudly and without remorse.
She told me that she didn't know me but she thought I was lovely and when I returned to Australia she would love for me to stay with her and tell me about her travels.
She told me that her beloved third husband Joesph had been an amateur writer and citizen journalist and how proud he would be that her eldest granddaughter had become a reporter.
She then told me that she could not be prouder of all her grandchildren, Alisa the beautiful teacher and Jason, the image of her own son Alex.
And after I had been there for almost two hours and she had begun to tire, she turned to me and in her watery blue eyes was a spark of recognition, one I had not seen for months.
She clutched my hand and told me "Life is hard. You just do what you can. Be healthy, enjoy it and most importantly, be happy. That is the most important thing and we forget. Be happy."
I hope she is happy now Korea. I hope that Joseph came to carry her on, that her siblings Ira and Alex were waiting for her and she knew how loved she was.
Part of me knew that it would be the last time I would see her as I left the hospital that day. I scrambled in my bag for a piece of paper and pen to write down what she had told me. I needn't have bothered. Her words are scored on the heart which is so heavy at her passing.
Selfishly I wanted one last visit with her. I wanted to tell her all the things I had been unable to voice, how much I loved her, how thankful I was for her steadying and guiding influence, how much of the person I am today I owed to her.
But she wouldn't have listened.
She just would have shrugged in her Lithuanian way and offered me something to eat.
So I'm telling her now. Oma, I love you with all my heart and I will make sure that if my family does grow, that they will know you through me. And I will live my life in a way I hope makes you proud.
I am sorry Korea. Today, I just want to be home.
Me
Blogging | February 2, 2010
Dear Korea,
OK. This is a little awkward. So I am just going to come out and say it.
Just as soon as I take a deep breath.
And another one.
Actually, on second thoughts.....no. No, you deserve the truth. We have, after all shared a lot these past five or so months. Honesty is the least I can give you.
So.......my husband is coming to visit.
It's OK though. Really. He is fine with the fact that you and I are having a little romance and has actually expressed a desire to get to know you a little better himself.
To date he has been a one country kinda guy, but as he gets older he is open to a little more....experimentation.
And so with you and me getting along so well, he'd like to give it a try.
A relationship as it were.
With you.
Now, don't freak out. It is not as if we promised each other we'd be exclusive. And I think it will be good for both of you. Honestly. He is very funny. And handsome - I am sure a lot of your ladies will like that. And he really likes spicy foods and long walks. He's not into yoga but he has been known to dance in the rain.
I don't expect you to love each other straight off - but if you could make an effort to get along with him while he is here - well, who knows what could happen?
If you really hit it off, I wouldn't stand in your way. But this is a decision that has to be made between the two of you. I am staying out of it. I may try and nudge you both in the right direction - but really, I can't force chemistry. It is either there or it is not.
So, that's it. I hope you can open your mind enough to at least give this a go. Who knows at the end of the month, you may just part amicably with no ill-will but no desire to see each other again. That's cool. I won't hold it against either of you. I mean, he married me, not the country I am living in. And you took me in on the understanding that it would just be you and me for a while. So if either of you are not feeling it, it's cool.
Having said that, let's not completely discount love at first sight. It has happened.
Anyways, he is arriving on Saturday the 6th at around 11.30am. So if you could maybe put on something nice - you do look great in sunshine - and not give him too much of a cold shoulder (Australia never gets cooler than 10 degrees towards him. I think if you went all ice-princess on him, he might get the wrong idea. I mean, I get it. It's just you and you don't mean it and you are always very warm hearted for a few days after your icy mood. But for my sake - if you could just play nice and not go all Siberia on him?) I think you two will get along fine.
Phew. I do feel better getting that off my chest.
Just think about it.
Yours always (or at least until my visa runs out),
Me xoxoxoxoxoxox
Louisa Jones is the pen name for a recovering journalist who randomly decided to leave her very understanding and patient husband for a year to randomly live in Seoul.
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