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.

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?

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.

Korean Countryside Adventures

Time has been flying by. It feels like just yesterday I was bemoaning the changes in my office, with favorite teachers moving to new offices or even worse, new schools, and scary new teachers moving in and refusing to let us turn the heating on. Imagine that. Wanting to turn the HEATING on. Now I have constant daydreams about air conditioning. They said it would be on this week, but...

Anyways, I bring up the rapid passage of time because recently, we had a bit of an office family reunion. By the end of last semester, especially after spending so much time together during winter break, some of my officemates really started to feel less like coworkers and more like friends or family. Our daily lunch adventures became comfortable; our group narrowed down to the usual suspects. Lee Kyuwon, the taciturn but kind office head, with his amazing knowledge of tiny local restaurants. Hong Mija, the other office head, always trying to communicate with me, even though her knowledge of English is as limited as my knowledge of Korean. Kim Yunju, who feels like a sister and who is the only one who likes spicy food as much as me. And of course Jang Hyeonji, my lovely coteacher. Sitting in the car on the way to our meal, it felt less like 5 coworkers, and more like dad, mom, and three sisters.

Hong-ssn, Hyeonji, Soohyun, Lee Kyuwon-ssn, Yunju, and me.

So, months later, after ages of planning over kakaotalk, we managed to all find a time to meet up and try to put our little family back together. That makes it sound like something catastrophic happened, wow. Nothing so horrible that a little dinner couldn't fix. We all piled into Kyuwon-ssn's car and, as usual, I had no idea where we were going, how long we would be there, what we would be eating, etc etc. All I knew was that we were meeting at 5:30...somewhere in Korea. I assumed.

As it turns out, we ended up in this amazing little restaurant way out in the middle of nowhere. I didn't even realize it was a restaurant until everyone started getting out of the car.

I want one.

Tucked away off a tiny road, hidden among the bushes and trees, I felt as if I'd wandered onto the set of Secret Garden, the bit with the actual magic garden on Jeju Island. There was a rooster on the roof, that we all assumed was fake until it moved. The coolest thing was that instead of sitting in the main building, we got our own tiny private room with a big window facing out on the scenery. To summon the server, we literally had a phone that acted as a sort of walkie talkie between us and the main building. It was brilliant.

The window's a bit dirty, sorry, but LOOK AT THAT VIEW.

Our little room, the side dishes, and peeking through  the door is our crocodile friend.

As you can probably tell, we all sat on the floor around a beautiful low wooden table, munching on side dishes as we waited for the main event. I can't remember all the dishes that were there, but all the vegetables were so fresh and delicious, I would have been happy to eat only those. There were fresh cucumber spears dipped in red pepper sauce, kimchi, sautéed mushrooms, hot peppers, fish cakes, and a few other vegetable selections that I didn't recognize but were nevertheless consumed in great quantities by all.

Do it yourself: restaurant style.

Ah yes. The main event. I love how many dishes in Korea you have to cook yourself. From ramen to BBQ, it gives the meal a fun, hands-on vibe, though it also kinda stresses me out unless I'm with someone who knows what they're doing. Fortunately, in this case it was just a sort of soup, and who doesn't know how to heat up soup?

As you can see from the picture, we were rocking some seriously healthy dinner plans. Lots of leafy greens, those tiny mushrooms that look like noodles, and under all that was a whole chicken (in pieces), rice, and some spices and onions and stuff. The chicken was, I assume, already cooked, but once we got the burner going, the whole thing quickly got up to a nice boil, slowly cooking the greens and mushrooms as we stirred from time to time.

Enter the chicken.

It was such a simple, delicious dish. Also, you've never really lived until you've tried to eat chicken off the bone with only chopsticks and a spoon. I can't say that my method was...graceful, but the chicken got from my plate to my mouth with minimal accidents, so I call it a win. While I feel like this soup would be wonderful on a cold winter day, the simplicity of the ingredients also rendered it surprisingly refreshing on a hot, muggy day.

Then, as if we didn't already have enough food to feed a small, healthy army, we ordered a squid and vegetable fried...sort of pancake...it's hard to explain, but trust me, it was fantastic. I've had a lot of these, at various restaurants, but this may have been the best. It was really thick, stuffed to the gills with fresh veggies and squid, and even though I had already eaten a ridiculous amount of chicken, I couldn't resist it's fried, tentacly charms. Is tentacly a word? NOW IT IS.



Ignore the chicken carnage, look at the delicious alcohol!



The final element to our meal was a bowl of dongdongju, which is a sort of sweet, traditional rice wine. It came in an earthenware pot with a ladle, and we drank it out of small bowl-like cups. As I relaxed, nibbling at side dishes and sipping my wine, I slipped into that perfect feeling of belonging somewhere, of being comfortable enough with a group of people to just sit and listen to the conversation wash over you. What I mean is, I felt like I was at a family dinner, where my family just happened to all be speaking in Korean. I faded in and out of the talk, understanding for a while and then losing the flow again, but I didn't mind. The air was warm, and after my second cup of wine, I was feeling pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.

It's evenings like this that keep the homesickness at bay, finding pockets of home even in the most foreign of settings, shaping what is unfamiliar into something comforting, something safe. Because when you're this far from home, what else can you do but make a new home?