Rain

I recall, in my childhood, having been very taken with rainy summer days. I loved dancing uninhibited in the yard, having only the trees and elderly neighbors as witnesses to my performance. I loved the feel of the wet drops on my skin, and loved even more the rumble of thunder in the distance and the tinge of electricity in the air that made the wet hairs on my arms tingle with anticipation of the coming storm. I recall nights spent cuddled up in sleeping bags in the basement, waiting out tornado watches and storm warnings, and wondering with each crack of lightening and every roll of thunder if my house would stand up to the violent weather.

That was then.

Now, I find myself bracing the winds and rain in flimsy heels which are demanded by my employer. I tiptoe around puddles that I once would have stomped merrily through, just to feel the joy of creating mayhem. Now I grimace if a drop hits my skirt, and squirm to feel the rainwater oozing through my shoes. I have accumulated six umbrellas from the sudden showers that creep out of unsuspecting summer skies. I hate them all. I want nothing more than to crawl under the covers and wrap myself in a cocoon of warmth and dryness until the end of August, when I'm told monsoon season will end.

I imagine somehow that the weather would be bearable in a more idyllic setting. Were I in the country, perhaps the fog wrapped around the hills would feel more romantic. As it is, the fog curls itself around the grey concrete buildings and settles on the surrounding mountains like a suffocating grey plastic bag being slowly lowered over your head. There is no beauty that I can find in the dreary city showers, the rain pouring out of the sky in uneven tones, drizzling one moment, then dropping buckets of water in the next.

Even on sunny days, the humidity clings to your skin in a manner not unlike the unwanted slobber of an overzealous mutt. It soaks through your clothes, and here, where baring your shoulders is reserved for beaches, saunas and brothels, there is the sense that all around you people are hiding their deep discomfort and wishing to rip off their layers but are too dignified to give in to the logical temptation. I want to shout in subways and on buses, where I remain surrounded by women dressed head to toe in long black leggings and long-sleeved shirts: "What is wrong with you?? Why do you make yourself suffer through this ungodly heat and wetness? Why do you look at my bare arms and calves as though I am the crazy one?" But instead I sit, feeling the added discomfort of being cloaked in the shame of being too white and too uncovered in a t-shirt and skirt, while young Korean women my age aren't given a second glance for wearing short shorts that often provided neighbors with unwanted images of their underwear, or worse.

It is enough to make me want to stay at home aside from the hours at work. In class the air conditioning cools the children in one row while never quite reaching the rest of the room, making for daily discussions over temperature, and at least I can be reassured that they will be capable of small talk in any English speaking country. At home I attempt to open my windows at night for a breeze, only to let in the muggy smog that hangs about my window, joined with the lovely exhaust fumes from the motorcycle shop below. Walking one minute to work, I am confronted with the feeling of having gas poured into my lungs from the passing motorcyclists and the city buses lingering at the bus stop or waiting for the light to change. My asthma has never been this bad, and I am too stubborn to admit it, so end up wheezing up the stairs to my muggy classroom, where I always take a moment to simply plop down in my chair in a state of resignation before turning on the air con and logging in to work.

In the coming weeks I have only to look forward to extra classes four days a week, when I get to pretend that learning English is a fun way for my students to spend their much-needed vacation from school. I honestly believe that these children need fresh air and playtime much more than they need to learn to read for a test or understand conversations in a foreign language, but my opinion is of no consequence. I hope to make the extra hours as painless as possible for the students whose parents insist on them losing their free-time in order to sit through hours of English education.

Many of my close friends will be leaving in the coming month, a fact which is slowly and painfully sinking in. I will be moving to a less depressing apartment at the end of August, which I'm hoping will make the transition easier. At least I'll have a better view from the 12th floor, less traffic noise to contend with, and walls which are less abrasive on the eyes. Still, the six months I've added to my contract will certainly be different from the first twelve, and a part of me is dreading that time, when I will need to save most of my paycheck for grad school tuition, while trying to make new friends since so many will have left.

On the positive side, I know that September weather will be an improvement over this grey monotony. I anticipate days on the beach and sunshine brightening the city streets, and when the sun does resume it's rightful place in the sky, I know my mood will brighten with it.

Fun Times in the Hospital...Not.

Well it's been a month since I updated this blog - clearly I do not have a future in this industry.

A lot has happened in a month: I had a week vacation at home, where I was in my brother's beautiful wedding. It was a fantastic vacation, and I was able to spend a lot of quality time with my amazing family.
-My (big) family-
-The Wedding-
-My brother and my (now) sister-in-law-

I came back to Korea and had a part-time week thanks to middle school exams keeping my kids at home studying as opposed to attending class, and then I had a full week back that was as uneventful as most days here are. So it seemed that I was finally back into my daily life after a few weeks of jet lag and chaotic, but wonderful, time off. I decided to head up to visit a friend for the 4th of July so that we could celebrate on the US military base with other United Statesians, fireworks, US food, and so on. It coincided with a friend's birthday, and everything went well.
Never thought I'd have my picture taken with a tank on a military base...thought we'd cheese it up a bit.
I remembered that I really enjoy bowling! -The Korean Ministry of National Defense Philharmonic Orchestra (nice name, huh?) played, with some guest opera singers--Unfortunately, the fireworks were marred by the heavy air after a muggy day of constant drizzle dripping from the massive grey clouds-

I had a couchsurfer come stay the night before I left, and it was great to have a chance to talk to someone coming from a very different place (Chile) who has been traveling around the Pacific for almost a year. I really enjoy couchsurfing as an idea, and I'm glad that each time I've put it into practice, the results have lived up to my hopes and expectations.

I then had a great time up north with my friend, first for the birthday, and then for the 4th of July. We went bowling, had a nice dinner, got some sparklers, and watched the fireworks. After, we enjoyed listening to the Korean Philharmonic Orchestra and some guest opera singers, and I got a root berr float, always forgetting how much I love thenm until the first sip hits my tongue.
...

So all seemed to be well and good, but apparently beneath the surface, tonsillitis was lurking, waiting to trap me. I woke up Sunday night at my friend's house with a high fever, practically hallucinating. I hadn't felt that sick in a looong time. I managed to get back to sleep, and made it home on the train (4 hours) but passed out until work rather than going to the hospital then. Work was miserable, and it was painful to stand and use energy. My head felt like it was exploding and I couldn't swallow without flinching. My legs were like jelly and it took all of my energy to get through the 6 hours of class.

That night I woke up with a fever of 103.2 (39.6) and knew I had to get to a hospital, because I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a fever that high. When I got there, they told me it was tonsillitis. I was relieved, and thought they'd give me some medicine for my throat and my fever and I could be on my way, back home in my big bed, watching TV or sleeping, and having control over the temperature and my diet. Nope. Apparently, tonsillitis (which I've had at least 4 or 5 times in the last 6 years) requires being in the hospital for 3-5 days, on an IV drip. WHAT?!?
- The hospital, it's OK...literally -

I was too weak and fuzzy to know what to do with what I was being told, and though the doctor spoke English, I had trouble communicating my questions, such as, "Is it really necessary that I be in the hospital?" "Why can't I just take medicine at home?" "I can't miss that much work, is it possible to stay only 1 day?" I almost had him convinced to let me leave after 1 day, and I was sure my boss would re-assert that this was a necessity, since I only had one sick day left in my contract. I was feeling hopeful when she and he spoke on the phone, thinking that, knowing her, she could strongarm him into the shortened time. HA. When I got back on the phone, she said, in a concerned and serious tone, "Kendra, you understand, you MUST be there for 3 days, ok? You are very sick. Ok?"

I was not okay, but I of course was relieved that she was concerned for me, and was allowing me the time off, though I knew I'd be responsible for paying for subs after the one day of sick time. By then I just wanted some meds and a bed, so I consented. I signed a form that I could not read or understand, and which could only be explained to me as "Your Admission Form - it says you understand that you are staying at the hospital." I understood, but I didn't like it.

-Notice anything missing from this sign? See the bottom for an explanation*-

Truth be told, there was a spark of curiosity that was preventing me from putting my foot down and demanding to go home, and it is likely what propelled my hand to sign the form. I supposed that, if nothing else, it would be a unique learning experience and excposure to what would likely be my greatest culture shock since arriving in Korea. The spark of curiosity proved right - this has certainly been the most trying experience since coming here, and, though I am a bit loathe to admit it, I have desperately wanted my "mommy" - and "daddy" - by my side on more than one occasion over the last 2 days - more than I have since coming in September.
-Feeling sad about the IV, not to mention my awesome new hospital wear...-

There is something about hospitals which I have always deeply despised and found suspect, and nothing has changed about that. I have no good memories of hospitals, aside from the flashes of kindness from strangers, which is always a welcome reprieve from an otherwise grey and dull day in a stifling environment. In general, though, I am repulsed by the IV tubes, particularly when they are in my own vein. It did not help that being pricked this time brought back memories of squirming and screaming as an 8yr old while 5 people held me down after I'd run away down the hall to avoid the needle. This time I was forced to sit through 3 missed tries in my left hand, each which stung more than the last and left me lightheaded with my own revulsion, only to have to relinquish full use of my dominant right hand, the only place where they could successfully find a vein suitable for the IV.-They found a vein, finally-

I opted for the free room, which means I have 6 lovely neighbors (no sarcasm here, they are genuinely kind and compassionate women who have made my stay bearable through their protective and good-natured company). The downside is that I am in the bed farthest from the air con, and am stuck in incredibly warm clothing that seems better suited to winter temps. The heavy cotton is not breathable and I become restless after very short periods of time cooped up in my airless corner. Furthermore, the TV for the room is at the end of my bed, and while I find Korean dramas amusing in passing, the lack of comprehension causes my interest to wane quickly, and I get tired of the constant drone that is too loud for me, but just loud enough for the people who are actually watching from across the room. Instead, I spent much of yesterday and the night before sitting in the lobby , directly under an air vent, reading Howard's End by EM Forster.

Visitors have been bright spots in the last 48 hours, bringing food that doesn't turn my stomach (I have been served bland rice porridge at every meal, usually with a side of another soup which, despite them knowing I am a vegetarian, has consistently had meat or fish in it, and a variety of kimchee and other small sides, which typically I can't deal with at breakfast, and am disinclined to eat when I feel out of my comfort zone already, though typically I would try them and probably like them) and company that perks my mood.

Although it's only been a little over 2 days, I feel as though I have been here much longer, because the monotony eats away at you. There are few things I dislike more than being surrounded by illness, and I feel it creeping at me from all sides. Knowing that I am one of the sick compounds the feeling even more. When they took out the IV this afternoon, I felt like jumping for joy. I'd wanted nothing more than to yank it out since the moment they put it in, and it gives me some relief to know that one obstacle to leaving has been removed.
- HA! I only thought they'd taken out the IV. Really, they took one out, only to put another in an hour later, in the other arm - where initially they couldn't find a good place for it. This one hurt less and did not obstruct my movement. my only question is: where was this nurse on my first night?!? -

Now I just have to find ways to amuse myself for the rest of the day, and to find a way to get better rest tonight. I have no doubt that tomorrow's classes will be a welcome return to real life, and I'll look at it as a blessing that I'm getting out on a Friday, just in time for a beautiful weekend, with plans to go to the beach, a baseball game, and to watch the World Cup final with my closest friends.

Thanks to everyone for your love and support the last few days, it's meant so much!
...
*The #4 in Korean is a bad omen signifying death. I'd heard that some buildings lacked a 4th floor, but this is the first time I'd actually seen it, which I think tells you something about the age of the hospital building...