Why Do You Go Away? So You Can Come Back

Well, I've been there and back again as Tolkien would put it, and with the customary chests of gold to prove it, so long as chests can be suitcases and gold can consist of quinoa, clothing, candles, and many other things that don't start with /k/, if you can believe it. Allow me my alliteration, alright?

Anyway (sorry, sorry, I promise I'll stop), I've been back from vacation for about three weeks, which means I finally have the energy and presence of mind to write about, well, anything. Jetlag is rough, kids. Add that to the horrendously hot weather, and my sleep has been, in a word, crappy.

Each trip home has been weird in a different way. The first year it was mostly exciting and a bit surreal. My life in Korea started to feel like a dream, and I was surprised upon coming back to find everything exactly where I'd left it. My second visit was just odd and stressful and unsettled- I feel like I never really got my balance. And this year?

This year was the first time I felt any strong desire to move back home. I met my friends, and saw the lives they were living, and for a moment I thought...this could be me. Do I want this to be me?

I've been in Korea long enough now that a lot of the great things have become invisible, which puts the negative things up in sharp contrast. Some things are specific to Korea, while others are things that come with living in a country where you don't speak the language fluently. It's dumb, but the the Korea-specific complaint that I always go back to is bars. I used to love just popping into a local place around 5 or 6 PM, not to get drunk, but to sip on a drink at the bar and write or meet people. One time I talked for an hour with a guy who owned a company that cleaned up houses of hoarders or after a dead body wasn't found for a long time. Gross but fascinating.

It's also much harder to make friends and develop relationships, partially because of cultural differences, but also because of the language barrier. I wouldn't say it's necessarily difficult, but it's certainly more of a challenge. That's probably one of the biggest lures of moving back to Seattle or the US. Not only do I have a preexisting collection of friends, I know the rules of social engagement much better. 

However, for every positive outcome I could get by moving back the US, there is an equal and opposite negative outcome. Whenever I imagine moving, I forget that I won't be able to bring my well-paying job and rent-free living situation with me. I'd have to deal with the horrible US healthcare situation again. I'd go back to cat-calling and gun violence and an inability to afford an apartment of my own. That's a big one, I must admit. Living alone is a gift I'm not sure I'm willing to part with just yet.

I'm lucky to have the job that I have, to be able to support myself at 26, debt-free, with the ability to travel on my own dime, and not have to stress about the bill at a fancy restaurant most of the time. Any time I start to complain, I try to remind myself of that. Not in a "there are STARVING CHILDREN in [insert stereotypical poor country] so EAT your green beans for crissakes" but in a more...count your blessings sort of way. Visiting home every summer is a great way to remind me of that.

All That You Can't (But Must) Leave Behind

Moving to Korea was one of the best decisions of my life, but that doesn't mean it's always sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. It's a trade-off, I suppose-- for every step I take toward building a life for myself here, I'm taking one more step away from the life I had back in the states. I know I've written about this before, but it's something I keep spiraling back to. I have a bizarre form of that trendy new malady FOMO, a fear of missing out on the things I'd have been doing had I not moved to Korea.

The most obvious thing to miss is family events. No matter how much you email and check Facebook and Skype, so many things fall through the cracks. My aunt went through a huge medical situation and I had no idea how serious it was until I visited home well after the fact and heard the whole story. That really spooked me.

While I must admit I don't miss my family as much as I feel I should (sorry mom!), my younger sister is the one who really gets to me. She's 5 years younger, at that age when she's changing so fast and learning so much about herself and the world, and I really wish I could be closer, to step back into my role of Cool Older Sister who Already Made All The Mistakes. Not that she won't make mistakes...but I could at least save her a bit of time on some of them.

I guess every decision has two sides. Huh. That sounded much deeper and more revelatory in my head. This has always been an issue for me, for as long as I can remember. I don't regret taking the road less traveled, and neither would I regret taking the road more traveled, but I get really anxious about the road not traveled. The second I choose one, I'm POSITIVE the other would have been better. If I choose to stay home for vacation, a nagging voice tells me I should have traveled. If I choose to travel, the same voice says I should have stayed home and saved my money. I'm the human version of a cat-- the moment I'm let outside, all I want in the world is to be let back in.

This is probably nothing special, but it drives me crazy, as much as I've learned to ignore it. It's a basic problem of not being able to trust myself. I don't know what I want, or maybe I'm too easily satisfied. But is being satisfied enough? Who knows.

I'm 26 now, almost 27, and while I know that that's not old any way you count it, the speed at which time passes is starting to get to me. It doesn't help that so many of my friends and coworkers in Korea who are around the same age as me are getting married and having children, and many of the people I know back home are buying houses and moving up in their careers, while I'm just sitting here...living a life that hasn't changed much in two years. Sure, I'm a better teacher than I was 3 years ago. My apartment is nicer. My Korean has improved. But to go back to a metaphor I use too often, all of this just feels like grinding for XP. I've been leveling up my abilities and now it's time to start a new questline, but I can't seem to find anyone with that telltale exclamation point above their heads.

There are all sorts of new life stages to move into. Getting married is one that a lot of people around me are doing, and while I'm certainly not ready for that, I feel a similar push to start moving toward something bigger. More and more I think that something is grad school, but that means letters of recommendation and a great deal of money and every time I think about it I feel immediately overwhelmed and end up scrolling through tumblr mindlessly for an hour. This, unfortunately, is my main response to hardship and difficulty.

I suppose the real issue here is that I hate uncertainty. Once I have a goal, I'm stubborn enough that I generally pull it off even though I'm a bit of a human tire fire with a tendency to do things wrong in new and creative ways! I guess if you fuck up enough times in a row it makes a positive? So far, that seems to be the way I've worked my way through life, but since it's gotten me this far, I guess it works. Plus I have no idea how to change.

So, that's where I am right now, older than I ever considered myself being. When you're sixteen and dreaming of a better future, 25 seems like a lifetime away. Now that I'm past that, the world is stretching out before me like an overused first snow metaphor, and I'm stuck in place, afraid to leave the wrong footprints.

This Accelerating Contradiction

Being alone has never really bothered me. I was an only child growing up, and whenever a play-date wasn't an option, I was perfectly happy playing pretend in my room for hours, reading, or (most embarrassingly) learning how to make databases on my mom's Windows 3.1 computer. There were so many floppy disks. It wasn't even connected to the internet. Am I dating myself?

Maybe I'm getting more introverted as I get older, or maybe I'm just noticing it more, but these days it's getting harder and harder to force myself out of the house. Through all my years of shared bedrooms and roommates, I always knew I'd love living alone--I just never knew how much. I spend all day turned up to eleven at school; I have to keep my students energized, talk to coworkers, and constantly switch back and forth between Korean and English (and sometimes Japanese when the kids try to mess with me). It is, in a word, socially exhausting. The feeling of stepping into my apartment and closing the door to the outside world is magical.

Most people who've met me have a hard time believing this, because I have an uncanny ability to talk to just about anyone, but socializing is not something I'm naturally good at. I had to train myself, and going to a party or even just going to work still requires a certain...different persona. When I worked in cafes and restaurants, I called it my Customer Service Face. It's the face that smiles at rude customers, that cracks cheerful jokes no matter what's going on behind the scenes, that can run on autopilot through most types of small talk. It's convenient, but exhausting to keep up. When it's cranked into overdrive, I can get home from a party or a day at work and barely remember a thing I said to anyone.

The reason for my aforementioned talk-to-anyone skill is likely my knack for reading people, reading the room, and modulating myself to match. I have to be careful, though, or I'll change so much I don't recognize myself anymore. It's hard for me to stop thinking about how others are perceiving me, how the way I act influences the atmosphere around me. With all but the absolute closest of friends, socializing is like solving a constantly changing puzzle. I'm jealous of those people who seem to always just "be themselves" no matter the occasion. But then again, maybe people think that of me? Who knows.

The upside of having a no-roommate apartment to go back to is that I can more easily recharge after these daily bouts with humanity. The downside is that in order to have friends/any social life at all, it's sort of important to, you know, leave the house. Ever. I know that once I get to the party, to the class, to the bar, what have you, I'll have fun. Usually, socializing is fun, no matter how exhausted I am afterwards. But the problem is, staying home alone is fun 99.99% of the time, and it requires neither a bra nor pants. So you see my problem. I also genuinely enjoy traveling alone. Sure, it's harder to take pictures and eat out in restaurants, but isn't that what the selfie-stick was invented for?

When they invent something that makes eating alone less awkward, I'll be first in line to buy 10.

I may be able to talk to anyone, but making friends has always been difficult for me. It takes me a long time to get close to someone, and my tendency to drop off the face of the earth (socially) from time to time means I lose a lot of friendships that don't have a strong enough foundation yet. Living in Korea has added a bonus boss battle: my friends keep leaving.

It's totally natural. The average stay for native teachers over here is 1-3 years, so it's to be expected that people will come and go. If I were better at making and keeping friends, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but when it takes at least a year for me to feel really close to someone, if they leave right after it's almost like losing out on an investment. This is kind of horrible to say, but it's almost as if I'm an employer who's spent a year training a new recruit only to have them quit. Eventually, I don't want to hire any new people, even though I know I need them. Does that make sense?

There's clearly some lack of logic between what I want to happen and what I do. Case in point: I want to have friends, but what do I do? Avoid my nice neighbor who just wants to get brunch with me because I want to...what? Go for a walk by myself? Stay home and play videogames? I honestly can't understand my motivations in a lot of these situations, and yet they keep happening in the same way. Anxiety is tricky that way, I suppose.

So I guess that's where I am now; trying to find a balance between enjoying solitude and cutting myself off from humanity. Where do I draw the line? When does self-care turn into something bad? Tune in next never for the answer.

How To: Avoid Feeling Homesick

"Don't you miss your family? Aren't you homesick?" These are in the top 10 of questions everyone over here asks me, and while it's nice to know someone is concerned about my well-being, it makes me wonder if I'm the odd one out for not being homesick. This isn't new; I've been wondering about this same topic almost since I first arrived in Korea.

"Now, in the “Counseling Booklet” that Epik has provided me with, they give a very thorough explanation of the various phases of culture shock. The first phase? The “Honeymoon Phase”. The booklet describes this time as “the period just after arrival in a new country…everything appears to be exciting and novel. The individual rarely finds any problems with the new country and may feel euphoric. Many people believe that the new country is flawless.” Ever since I read that passage last week, it’s been floating around in the back of my head. Is my love affair with Korea going to fade into the more negative aspects of culture shock? Am I just romanticising things that, in a few months, I will realize I secretly hate?"

Well, I'm coming up on three years, and while the honeymoon phase is over, I can honestly say that I don't often feel homesick, and when I do, it's not crushing. Instead of ruining my day, it can be an almost enjoyable melancholy or nostalgia. Anyways, since I know that homesickness is a problem that many people deal with, I thought I'd write about my own experiences and how I fend off homesickness. Now, I can't say if any of these will be helpful for you, or even possible, but this is how I, personally, stay so positive in Korea.

Reason the first: Seattle Sucks

My life since middle school has been a long string of getting out of wherever I was. Getting out of middle school, getting out of high school, out of my hometown, and finally out of Seattle, where I went to college. Why a person might not enjoy life in a small town is pretty obvious. With a graduating class of 100, it didn't leave many options as far as friends went, and with a dwindling population and zero job prospects outside of barista, drug dealer, or starving artist (or the triple threat combo) ...well, I didn't waste any time shipping my own self off to college.

After graduating from the University of Washington with a BA in English and the newly kindled desire to teach, I made the big dumb mistake of taking a year off to "rest". Seeing as neither me nor my parents are independently wealthy, I couldn't just sit around for a year reading Marvel comics and drinking coffee, as much as that appealed to me. I needed a job, and with a degree in English from a great school, I was able to get a totally relevant job in the service industry. By relevant I mean totally irrelevant and by service industry I mean a tiny cafe that made crepes. As I was one of the only employees not in school at the time, I ended up going months without a full day off, working 50-60 hours a week, and still barely having the money to cover rent and life expenses. Minimum wage is just so awesome like that.

But at least now I am a certified crepist. Wait...

I was, in a word, miserable. It doesn't help that the weather in Seattle shares most of its characteristics with a damp sock. Even when things are going well in your life, unless you really enjoy overcast gray weather, it's hard to stay positive during the interminably long Seattle winters. And springs. And falls. And sometimes it stays cloudy even though summer, because the other 9 months just weren't enough!

What I'm saying is, probably the biggest reason for my lack of homesickness is that...well...there honestly isn't much for me to miss about home. Yes, I miss my friends and family, but with things like Skype and Facebook and Kakaotalk and email, it's easy to stay in touch on a level that keeps me from feeling the distance. Maybe this isn't the best kind of advice to give, since it boils down to "hate your home" and I know that's not something that most people are going to be able to do. I guess I'm just lucky to have had such a terrible time before I moved.

Get Busy

As they say, idle hands are the devil's...instruments? Playground? Idle minds are the devil's gymnasium? Look, I'm no expert in old sayings but you get what I mean. I think one of the biggest challenges, especially when you first move to a new place, is keeping yourself busy. Everything is going fine, you're feeling good, and then suddenly the weekend comes and you're on your own for two whole days. Personally, I start to feel down in the dumps when I don't have a lot to do, no matter where I'm living, but I feel like this is something that really matters for people who are trying to live in a foreign country. It's easy to feel isolated, and if you're just sitting around in your tiny apartment, that isolation only intensifies. So, instead of spending the whole time laying on your bed watching the English language movie channel and moaning about how much you miss your family/Taco Bell/good cheese, get your butt outside and do something!

"But I don't know Korean!" 

No excuse! Just go for it! Want to order food? Just point at something and hope for the best. Ursula the seawitch had it right: never underestimate the importance of body language. When I first got to Korea I was limited to "Hello" and "Thank you" as far as speaking went, but I was still able to joke with a coworker about mosquitoes, entirely through sound effects and acting.

This bit of advice is harder to follow the smaller your town is. Life in the middle of Seoul is about as similar to life in the rural country village as my students are to actual humans. Which is to say, not at all. But hey, this country is tiny. Do some traveling! Explore your (albeit) tiny town! Take up a hobby. Join a gym and get super buff (then teach me your secrets). 

Mr. and Mrs. Brightside

Lastly, and this is advice for pretty much everyone in any type of situation, try to find the positive part of what's happening to you. Bad thing will happen. Annoying things will happen. That's to be expected. Taxi drivers will try to cheat you on your fare. Classes will be changed and cancelled with no notice. Your coworkers will be passive-aggressive. Your students will make you cry. That's normal, and it sucks.

But the way I see it, focusing ONLY on the things that suck just makes them seem bigger. I really like the way Simon, from the Eat Your Kimchi folks, puts it in a blog post about staying positive: 

"I could be upset about dealing with our landlord, buuuut I have a soft kitty here[...]I could be upset that a project I had been planning fell through, but look at that sunset. Once you realize that all things are of equal significance[...]then the playing field is levelled. Good experiences and bad experiences have the same weight, so why not put my energies into experiencing the positives?"

I've always hated the saying "it takes more muscles to frown than to smile" because a lot of time, it's utter BS. Sometimes it's hard to smile. Sometimes pipes burst or cars break down or things just Go Wrong for seemingly No Reason. There's nothing you can do about that. It already happened. The best thing to do is to find the part of your day that didn't suck. Was there one funny thing a student said? Did you eat the most delicious strawberry ever? Did your mom send a photo of her new poodle? Focus on that. It takes practice, but trust me, it works out better in the long run.

I think this kind of thinking is especially important when you're living in South Korea, and probably any foreign country. Sorry Korea, but you're pretty...racist? I hate to pull out the R card, so maybe we can stick to xenophobic? Unaware that there are other types of people out there and that's okay? Whatever you want to call it, it's hard to be the one different person in a sea of similarity. I never realized how diverse the US was until I moved to Korea. As an American over here, as any type of foreigner I'm sure, it's easy to feel victimized or singled out. Any negative experience can be viewed through the lens of "it happened to be because I'm not Korean."

Sometimes, that's true. Other times, it's not. All I ask is that you take a second to consider if the taxi driver didn't stop for you because he hates Americans, or if maybe he just didn't see you. And even if its the former, will knowing that somehow make you happier? Personally, I know it won't. Even if I have to lie to myself once in a while, I'd rather assume the best in order to feel better, instead of assuming the worst and getting bitter.

So go out and enjoy life. Experience things, and when you miss friends and family back home, go do something interesting so you'll have the best stories to tell them when you meet again. Why do you think I've had so many adventures?

Here It Goes Again

It's finally the first day. In theory vacation is something you're supposed to enjoy, but the allure fades after the months drag on. I'm not great at self-motivating, but I also hate feeling as if I'm not accomplishing something, so vacation always ends up either driving me crazy or making me gloomy. Or both! Such a lovely combo those two make.

Proper classes don't start until tomorrow, so I get one more night of fitful sleep before I face the students once again. Today was just the entrance ceremony and a chance for the students to collect their textbooks. The one stressful thing about the ceremony is that they bring all the teachers up on stage, in groups of about ten, to introduce them to the new and returning students. Last year I didn't realize this was going to happen until I was being pushed onto stage, but fortunately this year I was more prepared.

The best part is listening to how loudly the students cheer for each teacher; it's like a litmus test for popularity, ranging from polite clapping to full-fledged cheering and waving. Last year, when I was still relatively new and unknown, I merited a mere polite clap with scattered cheers. This year, however, my name was greeted with a dull roar, and I was high-fived the whole way back to my seat. It's a small thing, but it means a lot. They remember me. They care enough to cheer for me.

As usual, I'm nervous about starting up teaching again. I like to think that someday I'll be able to relax about class, but honestly I doubt that day will ever come. Besides, as I told Tara earlier, I think my panic sharpens my focus. The biggest thing I'm upset about is my absolute favorite co-teacher, Hyeonji, who is more than just a co-worker, practically an older sister, is leaving me for 6 months to study English in Vancouver, Canada. I'm truly happy for her and it's a great opportunity, but I feel so lost without her. Asking for help is not something I'm good at, but I was finally at a comfort level with her that made it a lot easier. Now I'm not even sure who I should go to among the English teachers. Did they even deputize someone as my handler? Am I a free agent? I don't even know who to ask.

Don't leave meeeee

Even so, I feel pretty good about my chances this year. I learned a lot last year, I leveled up, and I'm ready to start fresh and do things even better this year. That's something I love about teaching- you are constantly learning, changing, and hopefully improving. I'm reminded of artists, actually, the way they paint or draw something and think, yeah, that looks pretty good, but 3 months later they want to set it on fire, because they've improved their skills to the point where the piece from three months ago looks like garbage in comparison. I feel the exact same way about lesson plans. While some stuff just needs a bit of polishing and editing, some lessons that I thought were great at the time look amateurish and weak compared to what I'm doing now. But hey, I guess that means I'm learning from my mistakes!

So, once again, here's to a fantastic new semester! Wish me luck...I think I'm going to need it.

The Agony and the Ecstasy of Buying a Car in Korea

As usual, I managed to go for weeks without posting, despite my best intentions. There's something about vacation that just sucks away what little ability I ever had to stick to deadlines or regimes, and suddenly it's been weeks and nothing at all productive has been done, even though I actually have more free time. It's a great mystery of my own personal universe.

In my defense, a lot has been going on. I did manage to buy my car, but not after what were probably the most stressful 48 hours of my life. Buying the car itself was pretty easy, but trying to get insurance...well, the phrase "when it rains, it pours" is pretty accurate here. Okay, story time.

So, I was cutting it pretty close, budget-wise, but I was pretty sure I had everything worked out. I'd heard from various people a ballpark range for insurance for a year, and naturally I divided that over 12 months and figured it was totally doable. That was, of course, where I made my first mistake.

IMPORTANT FACT IF YOU ARE BUYING A CAR IN KOREA: 

Unless you have a KOREAN credit card, you have to pay for a whole year of insurance all at once. Also, at least based on my own experience, that card has to be in your name, so no putting it on your incredibly generous and kind friend's card and paying her back. That was the original plan, but you know what they say about the best laid plans...

So, about 48 hours before I was slated to buy the car, I discovered that A) my plan for paying for insurance wasn't going to work and B) I had to somehow get my hands on over $1000 in a very short amount of time. Normally I'd make a withdrawal from the National Bank of My Mom for an emergency like this, but since it takes time to transfer money overseas, that route was out.

Fortunately, I am in possession of more than one incredibly generous and kind friend. I was stressing to Harry over FB when he just...offered to loan me the money. He even bullied me into accepting his help, totally against my wishes. In the end, his mom helped me to find a slightly more affordable plan, and talked me through the whole process and loaned me the money to pay for it.

That whole 24 hour period of uncertainty about insurance filled me with so much stress and anxiety my body started to think it was having a heart attack. The only other time that has ever happened to me was when I was preparing to move to Korea; it's pretty intense and scary, but at least this time I knew what was happening.

So finally, I reached the day: Friday the 13th. I signed the lease of one of my favorite apartments on a Friday the 13th during a thunderstorm, so I feel that the date is relatively auspicious. I wasn't able to officially leave work early to meet Adele at the car registration office, but my coteacher said, with a wink, that I could take a "long lunch" and promised to cover for me if anyone asked where I was.

Registering the car was probably the easiest part of the process, though if you don't speak any Korean it's probably a good idea to bring a Korean-speaking friend, as all the forms are in Korean. We were also really lucky to have the help of one of the office ladies who spoke fantastic English. She shepherded us through all the different steps, and before I knew it, I was handing over an envelope full of money to Adele in exchange for the car registration and keys.

And then...I drove back to school. In my car.

He's a beauty.

So yeah. That's pretty much the most interesting thing that's happened in the past few weeks. If you need any tips or more specific information, I'd be happy to answer questions to the best of my ability! It's really hard to find reliable information about all this stuff.

Mandu for Breakfast: Jeonju Food Tour Part 2

Hopefully you've recovered from the feast that was Part 1, because I have yet more food to talk to you about. I pretty much always have food to talk about, so it's a wonder I ever write about anything else on this blog. First stop of the day? Dumplings.

I know, eating dumplings for breakfast sounds weird, but in our defense A) we slept in pretty late and B) don't be such a square.

Mandu god is watching you.

According to a friend of a friend this place is pretty famous, and if a long line is a good judge of quality, then by that alone this place would win awards. It stretched down the street and around a corner, and some people even had snacks to sustain them during the wait.

Working hard in that tiny space!

The setup in this place is perfect. The line moves past the display of freshly made dumplings, so you have a chance to think about your order before you get to the front. As we watched, they were continuously bringing out fresh wares. Apparently this place is famous for the shrimp mandu, but since I can't eat shrimp, we made sure to get a full selection.

Shrimp balls and kimchi mandu.

If it had been up to me we would have ended up with one of everything, but fortunately Joon could handle the pressure and managed to buy a more reasonable amount.

Sexy close-up shot.

Pictured here, from left to right: 8-pack of kimchi mandu, 1 fried mandu with noodles inside, 2 spicy kimchi mandu, 2 shrimp mandu, and 1 tortilla wrapped fusion...thing. And dixie cup for scale. We practically had to fight a couple to keep our seats, but we were clearly there first and he was just being a big greedy jerk.

I cannot stress how huge, delicious, and hugely delicious these were. The spicy ones were the perfect amount of spicy, too; just enough to give it a kick without covering up the flavor. If I lived in Jeonju, I'd probably brave the line at least once a week to stuff my face with these pockets of heaven. I'd also become horribly fat, so it's probably better that I stay in Wonju.

Our final stop was Cafe Manil Manil, for the patbingsu that had eluded us the day before. The owner was really nice, and even remembered us! Patbingsu isn't exactly a winter food, but in the warm cafe with the sun shining through the many windows, it was easy to forget the chilly weather.

Very natural, comfortable feeling.

Real flowers on the tables!

Too cute. Also explains all the old hippie music.

I was thrilled even before our dessert and coffee arrived, because the music in Manil Manil was basically all the music I listened to with my parents when I was younger. I even heard some Eric Clapton, which I don't think I've heard before in Korea.

Americano for an American.

AWW. YISS.

The red beans were just right, not too sweet, and the shaved ice was the kind that a bit milky and sweet, so the two complemented each other delightfully. I also had a nice hot coffee to warm me up, which rounded out the meal perfectly. I feel like this place must get crazy in the summer, but whatever the situation, you should definitely go here if you're in Jeonju.

With that, our adventure finally came to an end. Full and happy, we caught a bus to Seoul, then I caught a second bus back to Wonju, the catching of which is a long story unto itself that I may tell later. If anyone wants more specific directions to any of these places, leave a comment and I'll try to draw a map or get an address.

Eating My Way Through Jeonju: Food Tour Part 1

Long time no see! Or not see, exactly, but...well...anyways. Sorry I didn't write for so long. I got my first bad cold of the season, and while it tried to knock me down, I got up again because, to quote Chumbawumba, "you're never gonna keep me down." I've been working on a longer post about my teaching style and serious stuff like that, but it's taking too long, so instead I'll take you on a food tour of Jeonju! Because who doesn't love food?

Jeonju is about 3 hours from Wonju by bus, but since I was traveling with a friend, I met her in Seoul on Friday night so we could leave together on Saturday morning. Her apartment is super tiny but really cute, and it certainly made me feel grateful for all the space I have to live in these days. 

We caught the 8 AM bus out of Central City and napped for the first couple hours, if only to escape from the Most Depressing TV Program Ever. We were close to the front of the bus, which is usually a great location, because you can watch the TV that they always have going in front. I usually entertain myself by trying to guess the plots of random dramas without hearing the dialogue. This time, though, it was a curse, because for the entirety of the 3 hour bus ride they were showing a program about different places where volunteers go to help people in terrible situations. Causes included: starving children in Africa, homeless people in Seoul, and a little girl whose skin was so fragile even just water touching her felt like alcohol on an open wound. So yeah. That was wonderful to watch.

On the way, we stopped at a rest stop for a bit of leg-stretching and snacking. Korean rest stops are amazing, at least compared to what I've experienced in the states. There is real food, freshly cooked, and lots of different snacks to try. We only had 15 minutes, though, so Joon suggested we get some potatoes. Best. Decision. Ever. 

I'm drooling just looking at this picture.

Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten any breakfast and was starving, but these potatoes were amazing. I nearly choked on one because I was eating too fast. It was really embarrassing. What's great about this snack, though,  is its simplicity. It's just roasted potatoes with salt, but on a chilly November day it's perfect, and at only 2,500 won it's a steal. If you're ever at a rest stop in Korea and you need a snack, you should definitely try this.

As you can see, we chose the perfect time of year to visit. The leaves were all shades of red, orange and yellow, the air was cool and crisp even with the sun out, and all that delicious food was waiting for us to enjoy it.

There were long lines in front of just about every restaurant, so we chose based entirely on length of line. Luckily, we chose well.

Dramatic angles make food more delicious.

Tteokgalbi (I had to look this up) is made from short ribs (galbi) and pork. The meat is mixed together, then shaped into a sort of rectangle before being grilled over charcoal. You can either just eat it straight off the grill with a bit of salt, or dip it in some spicy sauce. If you have the patience you can even make a lettuce wrap with rice and kimchi. Much like the potato snack, I really enjoyed how simple this meal was. 

Beautiful presentation.

Since no meal is complete without soup, we finished off with some nengmyeon, delicious cold noodles. I went for the spicy version, which sadly wasn't actually all that spicy. Still great though!

For dessert we planned to go to Manil Manil, a cafe famous for it's patbingsu. Sadly, they were out of red bean topping for the day, so we had to make a new choice. 

The name of this cafe sounds like "choose me", so we did, and we were not disappointed. It's hard to see in the picture, but flavors ranged from the basics like strawberry and mango and chocolate all the way to grapefruit, blueberry yogurt, and wasabi, I panicked when I got to the front of the line and ordered the first thing I saw, which was strawberry. No regrets. There were slices of real strawberry embedded in the sorbet, and the flavor was just right. Not too sweet, very smooth, just...perfect. 

Just because it's winter doesn't mean I can't eat popsicles.

While we enjoyed our dessert we waited in line at PNB, a famous bakery that's been in business since 1951. While they bake all sorts of things, they're most famous for their chocopies. I didn't know chocopies could be fancy, but I guess you learn something new every day. The line stretched a couple blocks down the street, and each person could only buy 5, for a whopping 8,000 won. After trying one, though, I can see why they're famous. 

For one thing, they're pretty big-- bigger than your usual packaged chocopie. Nice rich chocolate, slightly crisp cake, classic marshmallow filling, and a bonus: strawberry cream! I managed to eat only half of one before I was full, but I could easily have shared it with two other people. The line maybe long, but I'd consider this delicious treat to be worth the wait.

Finally, a museum that caters to my interests.

After all that eating we decided we had to walk around a bit before exploding. All this food was located in the middle of a Hanok Village, which meant there were plenty of beautiful buildings and historical things to poke around in and look at. We also stumbled across some kind of performance, elementary school dancers and also some great drumming. 

For dinner, Joon's friend recommended a less well known but delicious beef restaurant. Beef is pretty pricey in Korea, but hey, we were on vacation! What better time to splurge a little?

What dreams are made of.

All this for 35,000 won! NOT BAD, if I do say so myself. A selection of beef to grill, a mountain of side dishes, and some extra vegetable soup that our nice server gave us for free. Speaking of our server, she was the most adorable thing ever. The moment we sat down, this tiny middle-aged woman came over and, upon seeing me, started throwing out random bits of English that she knew. I may have been the first foreigner in the restaurant, based on her reaction. She even mentioned that her daughter studies English in some hagwon. Maybe trying to impress me? I don't know. It was pretty cute.

For dessert we got ice cream macaron sandwiches and then stopped for some bitter and very healthy-tasting tea; the perfect end to a long, delicious day. Stay tuned for day two, which includes famous patbingsu and a series of unfortunate bus events.

I Won't Share My Oreos

As you get older, birthdays get...complicated. It used to be so easy. Cake and candles, invite your friends over, a pile of presents, rinse, repeat. But now that I'm older, it's more of an annoying obligation that anything else at times. It feels as if I'm expected to have a party, expected to go out, when often all I want to do is stay home with a pizza.

This year is the first of those big, round number they put on greeting cards: 25 years old. I'm in a new age bracket on forms, no longer relegated to the 18-24s. In honor of making it halfway to when I can start being an eccentric aunt, I decided to celebrate this birthday in my own way. Instead of doing all the things I felt expected to do, I promised myself that I would only do what I wanted. 

My actual birthday was Monday, but I figured, why not take the whole weekend. Treat yo self, right? Saturday was amazing, though from the outside, very boring. I managed to roll out of bed around 11. After a couple weeks sleeping in a nest of blankets, a chance to really enjoy my new bed was really the only birthday present I wanted. My bedroom faces south, so the sun really lights it up during the day. 

The rest of the day was basically just...hardcore puttering? Is that a thing? If it isn't, it should be, because I puttered in a big way. I've been so busy that it feels like I live at school rather than in my apartment. As it turns out, moving to a bigger apartment means a great deal of work. To put it in perspective, my current bedroom is about the size of my old apartment, and my bedroom isn't exactly a cathedral. I'm pretty sure my new place is about 2-3 times the size of my old place, so even after a couple weeks, I'm still working on getting everything in order. Step by step.

I tried to bring the landlord's dog, Sunjin, with me on a walk, but I think he's still a bit too young and skittish to go off on an adventure with a non-family person. Honestly it was adorable. As I was leaving, his main owner said we should go together, and I was totally board, and so was Sunjin-- at first. We made it about 3 blocks before he abruptly decided that nope, nope, this was was not happening. I tried to reassure him but he was having none of it. Hopefully once he gets to know me better I can start taking him on my walks down by the river. I miss having dogs.

On Sunday I was ambushed. I was hanging out with some friends, with no particular plans. As I came back into the room after using the restroom, I could tell something fishy was going on. I was made to sit in a particular place. Everyone was acting a bit dodgy. By the time I realized the truth, it was too late: the cake was already entering the room, a lovely green tea cake with fruit on top from Tous Les Jours, so I honestly can't complain.

Monday should have been horrible. I had the worst schedule in the history of school schedules: 6 out of 7 class periods, mostly 3rd grade, plus debate club during lunch. Normally I only teach 4-5 classes, so 6 plus debate was just...horrible to imagine. However, thanks to some kind of ~birthday magic~ all of my classes went smoothly, or at least didn't make me want to hide under my desk and cry,

About once a month the old office crew, basically my work family, meets up for a meal and coffee. It's a great time to actually talk and catch up, since we're all in different schools and offices now. This time it lined up perfectly with my birthday, so they took me out for shabu shabu. It was so delicious, but I ate waaaay too much. Mushrooms, noodles, vegetables, meat, more mushrooms, wrap it up in some rice paper, dip it in sauce, enjoy, repeat until uncomfortably full.

There was too much food to fit into the shot.

However, apparently just eating way too much food was not enough, because we braved the rain to visit a bakery that I think belongs to my supervisor's...sister in law? Something like that. Anyways, the place renovated recently and started baking things. Really delicious and pretty things. Things that include super adorable cakes with fruit on top AND inside. Magical! It was also apparently the first cake ever made in the new place! I felt so honored!

So many delicious breads!

Too cute to eat.

Clever decorations.

Birthdays may be getting more difficult as time goes by, but this has been the best birthday I've had in a long time. What stands out the most is how...thoughtful people have been. Two of my students gave me oreos because they remembered an off-hand comment I'd made about loving them. They also told me I wasn't allowed to share them with anyone- these oreos are mine and mine alone, which was such a cute sentiment. Other new friends remembered that I'd chosen the green tea ice cream one time, so they chose a green tea cake. Elly gave me a lamp because she knows I read in bed. Hyeonji gave me candles to cheer up my new home.

I'm terrible at asking for what I want or need, but this time it worked out even without my help. If this birthday is an omen for this year, I've got a great time to look forward to.

 As a bonus, here's a video that Hyeonji took on the sly. We all thought she was just taking pictures! The sneaky monkey.

I Can't Stay but I Don't Want to Leave

I'll be moving soon, and this fills me with some conflicting emotions. On the one hand, my current place is a sort of glorified dorm room, with no kitchen to speak of and barely enough space to do, well, anything. On the other hand, my landlords are some of the sweetest people I've ever met. It's not unlike renting an apartment from your friend's grandparents.

From the very start, the woman who owns the building has been incredibly kind to me. I think she worries about me, since I live alone in a foreign country, without any family nearby. I still remember hurrying to the door, in the middle of unpacking a giant suitcase, to receive a plate of grapes. While it shocked me at the time, little did I know it was only the first of many kind deliveries at odd hours. Homemade kimchi and sikhye, more grapes, pears and even, on one memorable occasion, an extra plate of jajjangmyeon.

Her husband is a bit more intimidating, despite his rather small stature. He speaks with a gruff voice, barking out short statements and scowling, so for a long time I was kind of scared of him. However, as the weeks and months went by and my Korean improved, I realized that was just his style. Every time I left my apartment, he'd ask where I was going, and tell me to go and come back safely. If it was late, he'd tell me to be careful. If I struggled to find my keys in the detritus at the bottom of my purse, he'd get the door open for me.

~*~

While our day to day interactions are nice, it's during holidays that their kind and welcoming attitude really shines. I experience this first back in January, during the Lunar New Year. Unlike the new year in the US, this is less a time to go out with friends and more a time to stay home and eat a meal with your family; it's a bit like Christmas in that way.

Anyways, for various soju and videogame related reasons, I'd  been up pretty late the night before, so my landlady knocking (more like banging. she's surprisingly strong) on my door around 9 AM woke me from a deep sleep. Assuming it was just a package or possibly more grapes, I stumbled to the door in my pajamas, glasses askew, only to have it slowly sink in that not only was she asking me (in Korean) if I had eaten yet, but she was inviting me upstairs to join her family. I managed to mumble something along the lines of “No I haven’t eaten/just a minute please/thank you”.Considering that even basic English is often a challenge for me within 30 minutes of waking up, I considered even that much Korean to be a serious accomplishment.

Still in a blur, I threw on some halfway decent clothes, slapped on enough makeup to keep me from looking like a zombie, and tried to mentally prepare myself for meeting an unknown amount of people who probably didn’t speak any English. Apparently I didn’t gather myself fast enough, though, because my landlord also came down to invite me up. I guess they were worried I hadn’t understood? Or I thought I’d gone back to sleep?

Fortunately, the family was pretty laid back. When I knocked on the door, they quickly ushered me into the living room and made me sit and eat soup with the older daughter and son-in-law and grandson, Shion. Somehow, the kid was the only one whose name I learned. Fortunately, the son-in-law was pretty good at English, so when my broken Korean fell apart, he was able to help out. The food was delicious: rice cake and dumpling soup, fresh fruit, and various side dishes. I think most of the family had already eaten, because they were lounging around watching TV, while my landlady kept pushing more and more food at me. If I stopped eating for even a moment, she would give me a slice of apple or a strawberry on a tiny fork. I guess grandmothers are the same no matter where you go.

As my natural awkwardness in unfamiliar situations started to fade, I began to feel a bit like I was spending a holiday with my own family. A bit too full of food, sleepy, and vaguely watching television as my landlord puttered away at his craft project and the grandson and son-in-law played silly games on the floor.

The polaroid camera must have been a Christmas present.

However, the most surprising moment came when it was time for the family to do the traditional bows and greetings and giving of New Year’s money. I knew what was happening, but as the tenant guest I assumed that I would not be included. I’m not family, and a foreigner besides, so why would I butt in? Wrong! Not only did they push me forward to bow and greet the grandparents (which I managed to do without stammering or falling over), they even gave me some money! I was shocked, and so happy. They sent me home with kimchi and fruit, and a warm feeling of being adopted into yet another family.

~*~

Time passed, summer faded into fall, and suddenly Chuseok was upon us. Chuseok is more or less Korean Thanksgiving, a sort of harvest celebration with lots of cooking and certain food that is inextricably linked with the holiday. Fortunately, this time I was half expecting to be forcefully invited up to join my landlord for a meal, though despite my best efforts I still didn't manage to wake up in time to be ready when he banged on the door. Seriously, who is awake at 8:30 on a holiday. Crazy people.

I wasn't able to fit all the food in the picture.

You know what else was crazy? The amount of food. As you can see, they'd cooked enough to feed an army. Rice cakes, soup, bulgogi, some kind of beef dish, kimchi, various fried vegetables, japchae...I was completely overwhelmed.

Apparently in the months that have passed since new year's everyone forgot that I'm capable of using chopsticks, so I had to undergo the usual volley of questions. Can you eat spicy food? Can you use chopsticks? Do you like kimchi? Yes, yes, and yes. My landlady especially loved the fact that I liked her kimchi. As she explained to me with a laugh, her husband, her son and grand-daughter all don't like kimchi. I managed to get in a bit of a joke there, asking the son if he was Korean, to which his mom replied that he's probably an alien. Apparently my humor is only effective on old people and children. Not entirely sure what that says about me...

After eating more than I thought was possible, we all settled into a comfortable and sated quiet in front of the television, which is when I discovered that my landlord is a minor local celebrity. He makes these amazing sculptures and containers out of folded paper, and the best thing is, the paper he uses is recycled takeout menus, coupon books, and ticket stubs. Apparently this caught the attention of a local tv crew, because suddenly there was my neighborhood on tv, with reporters following my landlord around as he gathered the materials he needed.

This was my favorite.

Want to move in?

A small selection of the full collection.

He must spend most of his time on this hobby, and it's really adorable how proud of his work he is. When he caught me taking some pictures of the collection, he insisted on getting a shot of him sitting in front. He even gave me a small one! I haven't quite decided what to use it for, but I know I'll treasure it.

Well-deserved pride.

Hard at work.

Hard to believe it's made from coupons and train tickets!

I've found a new place to live, but it's not far. It's probably not likely, but I hope I'll be able to stay in touch with this incredibly kind and generous family. I wish it were easier for me to tell them how much I appreciate all they've done for me. I guess it's motivation to get back to work on my Korean studies, huh? A friend suggested I write a letter in Korean, but so much of what I want to say is way above my level. Being so far from family is one of the hard parts about living over here, but if I keep meeting people like this, I know I'll be able to survive.

Spaghetti Alphabet?

I recently realized that I am a complete hypocrite. Well, in all honesty I've known this for a while, especially when it comes to giving advice, but I had the fact practically thrown in my face the other night. As a teacher of a foreign language, I'm constantly trying to stress communication over perfection. By which I mean, it is more important that you can talk to someone, get your point across, even if your grammar is barely grammar and you're speaking mainly in nouns and hand gestures. Were you able to buy the coffee you wanted? Did they answer your question? Laugh at your joke? A+

My students, and I think most language students, struggle with the desire to be perfect. Often, when I ask my older students a simple question that I know they understand, I'm still met with...silence. Averted eyes. Maybe if we don't move she can't see us.

While of course I would love to only get answers like "My favorite food is pizza" or "I saw you at the store yesterday. You were wearing red pants", I'm entirely satisfied with "Pizza very very like" and "Teacher! At the store...I saw you! Red pants!" because hey, at least we're communicating. Depending on what we're studying, I'll either correct them or let it slide. Some of the mistakes are even a bit wonderful. "Teacher! Spaghetti...uh...alphabet?" I allow myself to imagine an alphabet of spaghetti before realizing that all they need is some help spelling the word.

Technically not spaghetti.

When school lets out, the teacher becomes the student. I may spend  8 or 9 hours a day trying to shove some English into their poor brains, but once I go out into the world. I'm the one trying to shove Korean into my own brain, with varying degrees of success.

The first few months of studying were fantastic. When you're starting from the bare minimum, if you put in a little effort, it's easy to progress pretty quickly. At least, that's what happened to me. Studying was exciting, because every new grammar point opened up whole worlds of communication previously closed to me, the uninitiated. I'd gleefully get into conversations with anyone who put up with me, not unlike a toddler who will talk to anyone about horses or ice cream or whatever they're super into at the time. I didn't know enough to know if I was making mistakes. I was Eve before the apple. It was glorious.

But, like shows directed by Joss Whedon, the easy part of language learning was doomed to end before it even had a chance. Like some kind of language junkie, it took me more and more studying to get my fix, and I was afraid to use my newly learned conjugations for fear of making a dumb mistake. When faced with a question I knew I could answer, I would freeze, avoiding eye contact, hoping that if I didn't move, the questioner wouldn't see me. Because I knew that I was capable of saying something correctly, I was no longer comfortable spouting out my usual combination of mangled sentences and charades. At the time I was totally unaware of the irony of that attitude. Or if I was, I avoided thinking about it too much.



All this leads me to last Thursday. I'm preparing for a violin/saxophone duet in an upcoming festival (that's a whole other story I'll have to narrate here), so I met...let's call him Music Teacher after school to work on our song. He barely speaks any English, though he can understand a bit, so any time we spend together is a big challenge for me. Also, he mumbles, which is an absolute nightmare for my comprehension. Fortunately he's also entirely willing to repeat stuff in different ways until I figure it out or we have to go to the dictionary.

Anyways, after practice he took me out for dinner and we talked for the better part of an hour, about music and teaching and things we've been up to. More than once my Korean completely fell apart, but since A) I didn't really have a choice and B) I managed to get my point across when I needed to, I didn't let my mistakes get to me.

On the way home, somehow our conversation turned to how much my Korean had improved since the last time he saw me. I responded with my usual "No, I'm not very good..." (of course imagine all this is in Korean), but he continued to try and convince me.

"I'm okay but...I want to be better. I want to be able to speak well now. I don't have any patience."

"But we're communicating already! So it's okay." 

That was the moment when I realized how much of a hypocrite I'd become. Here I was discouraging my students from beating themselves up over mistakes, encouraging them to do their best even if it wasn't perfect, while at the same time beating myself up over mistakes and not daring to try if I didn't know the best way to say something. I guess the whole point of writing this is to be a reminder to myself, and to anyone learning a language, to anyone learning, well anything; don't be afraid to make mistakes. Keep your spaghetti alphabet at hand, and you're sure to find success.

As my dance instructor Ling Hui used to say, "Try as you could."

"We have to pretend to be a couple.": Weekend Adventure Part 2

So let's see...where did I leave off? Ah yes. Bubble tea. Myeongdong. I had plans to meet Yun around 2, so I settled down on a rock...bench...thing in front of the art museum to wait, splitting my time between people watching and reading. The only problem with the choice to read a book is that when he showed up, he was able to scare the living daylights out of me. I now only possess dead daylights. It's a modern tragedy.

The view from my seat.

I haven't known Yun for long, or at least, we haven't spent much time together, but I feel remarkably...relaxed and comfortable around him. Sure, he scolds me if I speak too much English and teases me when I speak Korean like an old lady, but it's in an undeniably friendly, light-hearted way. We escaped the heat in Cafe Pascucci, and eventually decided to track down a noraebang to hide in during the worst of the hot afternoon, then adventure over to the Hanok village area. I don't know what it is about Korean guys, but I feel like they either want to take you drinking, or take you to culture landmarks. Or both. I mean, I don't mind, but it's almost a sure bet that you'll end up in a bar or a palace.

I'd never been to noraebang before either A) during the day or B) while sober, so I have to admit I was a little nervous. I suppose we could have bought some beer, but Yun had a cold and didn't want any, and I didn't want to be the awkward person drinking alone. Luckily for me, for both of us I guess, everything turned out just fine! Also, may I just say, he has a surprisingly good singing voice. No offense to most of the people I go to noraebang with, but I'm used to singing with people make up in enthusiasm what they lack in skill. That's all well and good, but to sing Maroon 5 and 2ne1 with someone who appreciates my harmonies and can even call me out when I make a mistake? Glorious.

Love is the MOMEEEEEENT

I'd been to the Hanok village before, but I didn't have the heart to nay-say his suggestion, since I'd already shot down seeing Transformers. One time seeing that hot mess was quite enough, thank you very much. And really, it did seem kinda fun to see the Hanok village again, if only to compare how it looked back in freezing January. It's nice to wander around Seoul with someone who actually knows where he's going, too. Tara, if you're reading this, I'd like to repeat that it was the SCENIC TOUR and we TOTALLY WEREN'T LOST.

Ahem.

We wandered past a group of performers doing the traditional song and dance, and joked around together about joining them. It got even worse, the joking I mean, when we went inside the first house, serendipitously named "Yun's Family House". I started us off by thanking him for inviting me to his house, and from then on we were...just...really dumb. When we came to a room we weren't allowed to go into, he'd mention his mom was very strict. At a bedroom he assured me I'd could stay there the next time I was in Seoul. A palanquin was offered up at my new car. I don't know if it was the heat, my own dumb sense of humor, or what, but I promise it was hilarious at the time. Really. Stop looking at me like that.

This was frozen the last time I went!

Dinner was a bit of an adventure, but after some criss-crossing we managed to find a place that was both acceptably delicious and not closed. Over steaming bowls of stone pot bibimbap, our conversation moved from favorite actors to what kind of people we want to date, from favorite Korean foods to the funny questions taxi drivers ask. He even scolded me for not trying to speak Korean more, which I actually really appreciated. It's easy for me to get lazy when I'm spending time with people who have a high level of English, but that's no excuse!

Delicious.

As it turns out, Yun has this magical app/car service that allows him to use cars that are all over the city. It's seriously amazing. You open the app, it tells you where all the available cars are in your area, and you unlock it straight from the app. I think you even pay for it through the app. Anyways, I bring this up because after eating, we tracked down one of said cars and headed out for what would turn into a fun and one might even say romantic tour of Seoul in the evening.

I rarely drive in Seoul, usually spending my time either walking or down in the subway, so to relax in the passenger seat and watch the city go by was novel and quite enjoyable. I'm not sure I'll ever want to drive in Seoul, though...the traffic was pretty intense and scary, but with a confident driver at the wheel, I felt totally safe. We hit a few of the big sights, past Seoul Station and the palace and the big statue of Sejong the Great and who know what else. Eventually we turned onto what was, to me, an unfamiliar side street that took us winding up a tree-lined road, slowly rising higher and higher above the city as the sun moved lower and lower in the sky, slanting warm and golden through our rolled down windows.

Our destination, and I didn't even know we'd had a destination, was the top of a mountain on the outskirts of the city. Korean mountains, I have to admit, are pretty adorable in comparison to the behemoths I'm used to. I wish I'd taken more pictures, because the place was gorgeous; a big building in the style of a Buddhist temple, trees silhouetted against the setting sun, children and couples everywhere.

Sunset glow.

There was an amazing moment when the sun seemed to sit on a nearby peak, perfectly balanced for a few seconds before sinking below the horizon. It was hard to believe that we hadn't even really left the city. The air was still warm from the sunny day but starting to cool, there was the smallest of breezes to ruffle the trees, and I could feel my stress melting away into the air.

Say cheese.

I didn't get a picture of this, but if you walk around to the other side of the balcony, there's a gorgeous view of the city. There's nothing quite like watching the lights in a city come on as the daylight disappears. I do enjoy living in the countryside, I really do, but there's a part of my heart that will always love the city. The countryside has stars, but the city has neon, and I'm still trying to decide what I like better.

After getting our fill of sunset, we returned to the car for the final leg of our journey: a nighttime drive along the Han river. According to some it's the most beautiful night scenery in the world, and I'll not argue that it's got to be pretty high up on the list. We turned up the radio, rolled down the windows, and I soaked up the scenery. We passed bridge after bridge, some lit up in red or blue or green, some carrying cars, or trains, or subway rails. Neither of us talked, just sank into the comfortable silence of night driving, lost in our own worlds.

Our last stop was the riverside itself, a small park full of people with the same idea as us. Even though there were plenty of people, the whole place had a feeling of quiet, as if everyone was keeping their voices down. Even the raucous laughter of college students drinking beer in the grass felt muted somehow. We joked about there being too many couples, and for a moment Yun put his arm around me with the joke "We have to pretend to be a couple."

It was just...one of those perfect nights, you know? The kind of night that makes you want to say things like "I feel infinite". The kind of night that makes you want to freeze time so you can linger in the warm night air, trying to see past the streetlights and into the stars.