Autumn

This fall has gone by quickly - though that should be no surprise to me since time seems to fly by here. Last year I was so new in the fall that my experiences were more chaotic and I often went along with whatever was happening around me because I didn't really know how to go about things on my own. However, this time around I'd already been here for a year and was able to appreciate things I missed out on last year while learning to say no to other events in order to take more time to relax alone. In October two of my favorite events occurred: the Pusan International Film Festival (PIFF) and the Busan Fireworks Festival. In addition, Halloween is my favorite holiday, and this year my costume made it a very interesting and fun-filled adventure!Juliette Binoche, Oliver Stone, and Moi @ Haeundae Beach

Last year at PIFF I only made it to 3 films and had to pick them at the last minute without fully understanding my options or the process. This year I prepared in advance. What made PIFF even more exciting was the special focus films - groups of films from a specific country or in a specific style which were brought especially for the festival. This year they had 6 films under the title of "Czech Films Now: Cinema of Liberalism." Since I'm heading to the Czech Republic next year to study, with a particular interest in political and social developments relating to the transition out of communism, I was thrilled to see these films available! I was able to get tickets for 3 online and for 2 others in person. I'll have to catch the one I missed once I'm in the Czech Republic, I guess. In addition to the 5 Czech films I also saw films in Korean, Italian, Danish/English, and Kurdish/Turkish. I went to all but two of them alone, and really enjoyed the experience on the whole and will miss it next year when I'm not here - but am looking forward very much to being in a new place next fall!

A couple weeks after PIFF was the Fireworks Festival. Last year we arrived just in time to see the show, and had a decent place to stand. This year I had hoped to arrived earlier in the day to enjoy the pre-show events, but unfortunately had to work until 5pm, and, by the time we got the bus and got through traffic, we ended up arriving even later than we did last year and came from a different direction which left us with a less-than-ideal vantage point. It was still a lot of fun, though, because I've always loved fireworks and the experience of collective enjoyment of said fireworks, so after my initial disappointment I was able to appreciate the experience with new people and a new perspective.

Halloween was a lot of fun this year, and I took my costume seriously. My coworkers and I decided to be notoriously crazy, attention-loving stars. I was Lady Gaga, and they were Amy Winehouse and Kanye West. I spent about 24 hours making my costume from poster board, fabric and electrical tape. I modeled it after the bizarre black and white striped dress that Lady Gaga wears into prison in her music video for Telephone. Most people got it immediately, and I probably had my picture taken at least 100 times by Koreans who recognized the costume and wanted pictures of or with me. The experience made me actually feel like I was surrounded by paparazzi for the night, and helped me to appreicate how little privacy and how much attention stars get all the time. For about 10 minutes it was flattering, then amusing, then annoying, and finally a little unnerving. Overall, though, it was primarily funny and fun to be Lady Gaga for a night.Lady Gaga and Kanye West

I've been spending more time alone than I did last year, in part because many of my friends left around August, but also in part because I have gotten better at listening to myself and knowing that it's okay to say no to a night out or a dinner when what I really want is to rest at home. This is a big deal for me because saying no to social situations is something I was almost incapable of up until about 6 months ago. I feel like this is an area where I have really grown a lot and an important change. While I'm really enjoying spending time with new friends and co-workers, I'm also glad that I'm learning when to put my health and wants first. I enjoy the time I spend with people more now, because I no longer go out just because I feel obligated to or because I want to make people happy or don't want to miss out on something. It's an amazing feeling, to realize that saying no doesn't matter much in the long run, that you might disappoint people at first, but that, realistically, we all need to say no sometimes, it's human. I'm sort of in awe of this new evolution in my personality, so forgive me for going on and on about it!

Anyway, overall life is very good right now. I'm very happy with my job and my co-workers, and looking forward to a new term starting in a couple of weeks. I have some great dinners coming up with good friends to celebrate the fall weather and the upcoming holidays, and I am enjoying cooking fall foods for myself. In the weeks to come I'll be deciding officially whether or not to sign on for three more months, which would mean being here until May, or letting my contract finish as it stands at the end of February. I think I'll be happy with either decision, it's just a matter of weighing the pros and cons.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I've written a lot of posts about things I've done and places I've gone here in Korea, but very few about my reactions to life here, or my thoughts on things I see, experience, or question. I'd like to start to shift the focus in my blogs from being anecdotal to being more reflective and ruminative. I hope that anyone who is reading can appreciate this change, and I encourage and look forward to any thoughts or discussions that come out of this shift.

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Pictured:
A view of part of my neighborhood from the intersection near my apartment. Just left of center is the building where I work: prominent, white, tall, and filled with English classes...
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Walking around Busan, I'm amazed at how many things have changed in the last year. Construction seems to be a constant here, making the streets feel like mazes of yellow and orange stripes, ground-covering, and upturned concrete. Dust layers the bricks on the sidewalks and fills in cracks, leaving a thin coating on the bottoms of shoes, which gets tracked inside and makes sweeping necessary more often than seems reasonable. The noise of heavy machinery, cranes, backhoes, drills and shouts act as both alarm and lullaby many days.

I remember when I arrived, the lack of safety precautions around construction sites was one of the stand-out differences I noticed when going through initial culture shock - and it's one of the few things that still stands out in my mind as being "foreign" in a way. While I've come to accept it as a part of life here, I've never really grown used to walking across a street while it is being paved, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bulldozer; or waking up to the sounds of pipes crashing down at the building site next door. This week they painted our garage floor and to help us avoid the wet paint, wooden brooms were laid out to show us where we should jump over it. No signs, just the smell and the possibility of tripping if you aren't looking where you're going.

So on the one hand, the construction strikes me as somewhat disorganized and inconsiderate in its implementation (I recognize my strong bias here). On the other hand, it's remarkably efficient, and because people accept it as a part of life, it gets done without as much fuss (or concern for safety) in a shorter period of time. It's only been a little more than a year since I arrived and yet I can see visible signs of successful projects designed to modernize the cityscape.

It's really interesting to compare the neighborhood I moved into a year ago with the one surrounding me now. New shops have sprung up where mom-and-pop shops were before. New buildings are rising up from the ashes of old buildings, torn down to make room for these changes. For months now they've been painstakingly working to add an elevator to our nearest subway station, which is currently not wheelchair accessible. Today I noticed new signs in the subway pointing the way to get the elevator, though they still have some work to finish before it's up and running. In addition, it seems that in the last two weeks the city has added electronic computer screens to almost all, if not all, of the bus stops, showing the timetable and wait time for every line that runs that way, all in color. Currently, they are also adding what appears to be a turn lane to the street in front of my apartment.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of these rapid developments. Part of me is relieved at the convenience and accessibility of the new additions. However, another part of me feels a twinge of bittersweet sadness that this side of town - which is generally older, a bit more run-down in places, and has a more local and perhaps "authentic" feel to it compared to the northern and eastern parts of the city - is changing to catch up. Something intangible is lost along with the very tangible changes, and as an outsider here, that sense of loss is odd in the sense that I don't really feel I have a claim to the loss I'm feeling. This neighborhood was never mine, I never really understood it, I can't speak the language, I'm not aware of the local gossip or neighborhood events - and yet I feel a kind of anxiety when I sense the additional changes which will further alter people's lives here - for better and for worse.

I am painfully aware of a connection between these changes and my role here in Korea as an English teacher as well. These new projects seem incongruous with their surroundings, and yet they also seem like a necessity if Busan wants to adapt to an expanding population, a changing economy, modern safety standards, and increased mobility of the population here. I see English education here, and thus English teachers, as being both a part of that, and as a parallel project to accompany the physical construction. English is a tool here, a way to achieve upward mobility in education and the workforce; a means to an end. Yet, by incorporating that tool into life here, other changes were inevitable as a result of the emphasis on learning a second language, in particular English, and the influx of foreign teachers to provide this tool.

As foreigners we continue to appear out-of-place in our surroundings, just as the computer screen below my window appears shockingly new next to the aging bus stop beside it, and our presence has irrevocably changed the way Koreans live, work, eat, play, speak, and, arguably, think. The intention, in both cases, was to provide people with a tool to make their lives easier, to achieve a desirable end - but the means are destroying things in the process, whether those things are buildings and streets or people's culture and traditional ways of life.

So I am left with questions, but no answers:
What are we/they gaining, I wonder, that could possibly make up for what we/they are losing?
Certainly there are benefits, but do they outweigh the costs?
Whose goals are we attempting to reach, and whose expectations are we trying to fulfill?
Who decides which changes are good and which are bad, and how many will be enough?
What are we/they willing to sacrifice, and to what ends?
Is the potential for real cross-cultural connection and/or understanding a viable and/or valid justification for any of the sacrifices being made?
What am I doing here that has value, and what am I doing that is detrimental - and do I have control over my role and the footprint I leave behind, or is much of my impact out of my hands?
Does appearance or presence alone have potentially more of an impact than the intention (or the lack of intention) to create change that lies behind that facade?

Pictured:
From a display at Busan (Yongdusan) Tower comparing Korea in 1954 with Korea in 2010. The top picture is Busan's port in 1954, the bottom is the port as I see it today.

Reaching New Peaks

For Chuseok, the autumn harvest festival, a couple friends and I headed off to Jirisan National Park to hike the tallest peak in mainland South Korea. Although I hadn't trained, or done almost any rigorous physical exercise in awhile, I thought it would be great to get back into hiking, what with all of the gorgeous mountains tempting me here.

We headed out on Tuesday night, since two of us had work despite most of the country already being on holiday. After arriving in Jinju, a city near the Park, we explored the Jinju Fortress and Castle. We had a lovely time just sitting in a green park space, a rare treat since we live in Busan's concrete jungle.

Eventually we had to leave the Fortress and found a "love motel" (cheap motels that are often used by couples for a night because people commonly live with their parents until they're in their 30s here) called Buckingham Palace. We got to sleep late, as we're all used to since we work at hagwons and teach in the evenings. Unfortunately this meant that we overslept and only awoke to the sound of the phone at noon, which we assumed was telling us to get out. We caught a bus and finally made it to the National Park at around 2pm, ready for our 6 hour hike to the shelter where we intended to stay.

A slight drizzle had made us nervous in Jinju, but we told ourselves that it appeared to be letting up to the NW where we were headed: false. As we started up the trail to Daewonsa Temple, the drizzle became a steady rain. We remained in high spirits as we passed beautiful river rapids crashing over enormous rocks with the backdrop of the mountains framing the view. Upon reaching the temple, we stashed our bags in the dry entryway and bowed to thank Buddha for keeping an eye on them before venturing into the rain to explore Daewonsa. The view was breathtaking.

Closing my eyes, I could only hear the female monks chanting afternoon prayers, hitting their hollow-gourd temple bells in rhythm with the rain falling outside. I could have stayed for hours like that.

While walking, a monk gave us fresh mandarins and persimmons - the first I'd seen them this season. The gesture brightened the grey day, and gave us something to look forward to later, since we'd brought very little in the way of food for the trip.

We set off again, up the road to a small village, where the wooded trail began abruptly next to a building, marked simply by a sign:

The sky was beginning to darken, and as we looked down the trail, Carissa expressed the first note of hesitation - but we pressed on. It didn't take long for us to get off the trail a bit, but at that point it was still light, and after a few minutes we managed to find the path again. We each took it at our own pace, Elliot, our hiking pro, racing ahead; Carissa keeping a steady and even pace in the middle, and me bringing up the rear as my asthma began to wheeze into force with the increasing altitude. Such is life.

After about 2 hours the light was so dim that it became difficult to discern perception and distance. Within an hour of that, we could barely see our feet. It didn't take long for us to be thrown into near complete darkness, the rain still beating down on us, aided in it's work by the dripping forest around us. By now, we were sopping wet. I discovered that the raincoat I'd brought had lost some of it's impermeability, leaving my arms covered in a thin layer of rain water under the jacket. The footing was becoming more difficult, and my first flashlight was dying. Elliot had a bright one in front, Carissa had nothing, so was counting on the two of us to light her way some. Then, we got off the trail again.

This time I allowed myself a brief moment to panic, as I was still unsure if the large black shape I'd seen was a Moon Bear (aka the Asian Black Bear) or a big rock, and I didn't want to discover, in the dark and the rain, that it was the former. Luckily, we managed to find the trail again. We climbed rocks using ropes permanently fixed to help climbers, and made our way up ravines and the occasional stair. I tripped at one point and fell face down, but by some miracle managed to be unhurt. Finally, just as my lungs were starting to feel as if they were on fire, we saw a sign for the shelter, 1.1km ahead. We rejoiced, but only for a second, because really, we were miserable by then. Our bags were soaked through, our clothes were sopping wet, and I was stopping every few minutes to keep my lungs from exploding, or at least it felt that way. Then, just as I was about to give up and accept a cold, wet night sitting on a big rock, I heard the faint sound of a generator in the distance. I dragged myself up and made myself move. Ahead I could see stairs, which invariably led to a temporary heaven of sorts. As I began up the steps, I heard my friends call, "Kendra! There's light! I see a light!" (A solar powered light, btw - the whole shelter is run on solar power!) It was the most excruciating staircase I could imagine walking up right then, but I took one last stop for oxygen, and semi-crawled up to the shelter. As I turned around, I could see nothing except mist and darkness where we'd just come from.

Within moments, a Korean man was bombarding us with questions - were we going up to the highest peak that night or staying at this shelter? did we rent flashlights? did we want to? did we have blankets? He was very sweet, and very thoughtful, but I wanted to throw something at him so he'd go away and let me sit and breathe and just appreciate being alive and making it 1,490km uphill in the dark in 5 hours. In the end he was very helpful in dealing with the ranger, who chose to communicate with us by yanking at our wet clothes and gesturing hurriedly that we remove them immediately. He also poked around my bag, and seemed dissatisfied with our general existence, but I think I would have immediately disliked anyone who met me in those moments after that hike. I explained in very poor Korean that we wanted to find water first, that we understood about taking off our wet things, and that we needed 2 blankets, not 2 blankets per person, which he initially charged us for.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he let us be, and we managed to peel off our soaking wet layers and get into semi-dry clothes. Only then did Carissa and I finally express how miserable we'd each felt during the last leg of the hike, and how relieved we were to have made it up. We made a meal of the few beers we'd picked up at the village, the various nut mixes we'd brought along, my beloved "Dubu Sna -kuh" (Tofu Chips), hard boiled eggs, the oranges from the temple, and a few Chuseok treats Elliot had gotten in China recently. It felt like a well-deserved feast.

That night I barely slept with the cacophony of snoring coming from the men's bunk beneath ours (women got the loft). My travel pillow had gotten soaked in the rain, too, so it was difficult to get comfortable enough to remain asleep for long. This made it much easier to rouse myself at dawn to prepare for the day's journey ahead. We packed up and set off for the highest peak, Cheonwangbong, at 1,915km, and approximately another 4 hour hike from the shelter.

The second day began brighter and better than the first, and happily it stayed that way. Around one of the earliest bends in the trail, we came across a stunning view of the mountains and valleys, with the mist dipping across them and then subsiding as the sun rose higher into the clear blue sky. It almost made the misery of the previous night fade.

Not long into the hike, a Korean, who introduced himself by his English name, Tim, joined us. He thought we'd left a pair of sandals, so he'd brought them with him to give to us. Unfortunately they actually belonged to the ranger, who'd let us borrow them to walk to the bathroom in the dark. Still, he was so kind to have brought them that we just thanked him and put off deciding what to do about them.

As we went on, we got back into the routine from the night before, each picking our own pace again. Tim and I ended up being pretty evenly matched - or he pretended to be, because he insisted on staying with me, and keeping an eye on me. At first it was disconcerting, but with time his company became welcome and it felt like added security and companionship. We both stopped often to catch our breath and to take in the view. He'd been there numerous times before, and knew the trail well. We talked some, but generally kept our focus on the hike. We shared food and chatted some whenever we caught up with the other two. In addition, he gave me advice about which path to take going down the mountain - the one that was longer, but would take less time and was less steep. Later on, this advice proved true and led us on a less-traveled, more scenic walk than the alternative. If I ever meet Tim again, I'll have to thank him.

Eventually we reached the top, and in that moment the events of the night before seemed worth every bit of the effort. Knowing that my relatively weak lungs and body had pushed on and that I'd made it, on my own, to the top of this stunning mountain peak left me feeling a rush of pride unlike any I've felt in awhile. It also made me realize that I need to do this more often - push my physical boundaries to the limits and challenge myself to accomplish tasks are physically daunting to me - because the payoff is so worth the work required.

As I gazed out across the landscape, I couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else in the world. It's that kind of feeling that I think we should strive for in life. I realized that I feel that way in general here most of the time. With each day I am more and more sure that coming to Korea and staying longer in Korea were the right choices. While I am deeply excited to start grad school in a year, and to begin a new part of my life in a new part of the world, I am also so happy living in the present, in Busan, right now.

A Trip to the Countryside

It's been awhile since my last post, and I didn't mean to leave things hanging with the somewhat depressing typhoon business. This last month I was working a lot, and didn't have time to do much of anything, or to blog about it.

That month has passed, and life is looking up again. The weather has been sunny and hot, which I don't mind if I can enjoy it, but which can be gross when you're just trying to go about a normal day.

This weekend I was able to really get out and enjoy the weather on a lovely trip to the countryside. I met some friends in Jinha, a beach town about 2 hours up the east coast from Busan. It took longer to get there with all of the bus transfers, but it was well worth the travel time. I was able to take some pictures of the beautiful landscape on the bus to the beach and appreciate sights I don't get to see in Busan. Women and men tending to their gardens and farms, streams and ponds nestled at the foot of lush green mountains, and charming villages sprawling the hills. It was breathtakingly beautiful at times.

I arrived at the beach too late in the afternoon to legally swim - they make everyone get out of the water at 6pm and put up signs that say "no swimming." It makes me crazy, since the sun doesn't go down until after 7pm, and the sun is still warm enough to make swimming appealing in the evening. I've heard it's because swimming lessons are rarer here than in the US, so more people who use the beaches are unable to actually swim, but I've gotten no real confirmation on this, only speculation from Koreans and foreigners alike.

The girls I was meeting and I were set to stay in a minbak - basically an empty, unfurnished apartment that you can rent for the night (or longer, I imagine). Bed sheets and some pillows are provided, as well as dishes in the kitchen and soap in the kitchen and bathroom. Air con and fans are also present, and there was a washing machine that we didn't use. We had two rooms to sprawl out in for sleeping as well. The place was much nicer than my own apartment!

We had a great night, just hanging out and chatting, with a few memorable moments. Notably, we decided to head to the TINY amusement park set up near the beach, which had 3 rides and bumper cars. A group of us decided to brave "The Trampoline" - a circular ride where people sit around the inner edge of the circle and hold on tightly to the metal bars behind you and have no seatbelt or other saftey measures to keep you in your seat. Three people fell off into the center and the sadistic man who was in control of the machine had a grand time making them work to get back to the sides. I was wearing a dress over my swimsuit, which he exploited by making sure each time I got up to the top he made the machine bounce high enough for everyone below to see up my dress. Same thing happened to another girl we came with. We know this because he said, in Korean, "You don't understand what I'm saying so..." and would proceed to explain his intentions. Lovely man, really. Of course, with a group of 10 women, we had a few who did understand his Korean, quite well, and were able to relay his messages back to those of us who understood less. Anyway, it was quite an experience. I got a good arm workout from trying desperately to cling to the bars behind me so I wouldn't fall into the middle, or, worse, fly over the side and die. A friend was holding on so tightly that she ended up with serious bruising on her arm where it kept hitting the metal she was grasping. In other words, it was the safest and most fun amusement park ride I've ever been on, and I'm sure it would meet with US regulation standards...NOT. Still, it was an experience I'll remember!

After the scary ride, we headed for Norebang and sang our hearts out before taking a late night stroll on the beach. In the morning we returned and had a lovely afternoon at the beach. I got a little sunburned on my shoulders but it's already disappearing a day later. The water was cool and refreshing, and the sun was hot. Perfect beach day.

I was planning to take the bus home, but one of the girls had mentioned that she had room on the back of her motorbike, and that she'd be taking the country roads along the coast to get back to Busan. I was a little bit afraid, actually, of being on a motorbike in Korea, where the driving has always been something I wince at, but the idea of seeing more of the countryside up close was too irresistible. I'm glad I took the chance, because we had a great trip back, getting a bit lost in tiny towns and neighborhoods and seeing stunning views of the ocean and coastal towns. I have to say it was one of the most beautiful road trips I've ever taken, and being on the back of a bike was exhilarating. Feeling the sea breeze wash over you as you zoom over mountains and alongside fishing wharves - it was unforgettable. I'm so grateful to have had the chance to see the seaside that way. We stopped for a bite to eat when we got back into town, with a view of the almost-full moon rising over the beach.

If I'd forgotten at any time this summer why I'd decided to stay here longer, this weekend reminded me and made me absolutely sure that choosing to spend another six months here was the right choice. : )

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...

Spring in Korea

Well it's been a loooong time since I last updated this blog, and a lot of things have happened!

March
My birthday was lovely. I spent it with a good group of friends, had a lovely dinner and enjoyed a late night of norebang (karaoke). Unfortunately I had been sick with bronchitis and though I was on the mend, the weekend made me worse and I ended up with laryngitis and brochitis. I missed a day of classes the following week because I had no voice to teach with! But even with no voice, I had a wonderful time at the Busan Kite Festival the next day where I saw some amazing kites and a really cool turtle. It was fun taking shots with my new camera, and I loved seeing Dadepo Beach, which is closer to my house than the more famous beaches and which is much more serene.

April
April started with the Cherry Blossom Festival. Some friends and I traveled by bus to Jinhae, a coastal city about an hour outside Busan, where they have, I was told, the most famous Cherry Blossom Festival in Korea. The trip was really lovely. One of my favorite parts of the day was when we stumbled upon the largest and heaviest hula-hoops I'd ever seen, and I managed to swing the biggest ones around my hips! It was a blast, it was funny, and it was kind of bizarre : ) The only downside to the entire weekend was that I discovered only after the trip that my new camera had been on a VGA setting, which meant the pictures all turned out pretty grainy and aren't photo quality : ( But, I suppose some memories aren't meant to be captured beautifully on film - though they remain unmarred in my mind.

Later in April, one of my best friends from college came to stay with me for 10 days, which was really exciting. That same weekend I also performed in the Vagina Monologues, which was a rewarding experience. I had learned earlier in the year about a shelter for migrant women who were victims of sex trafficking near Camp Humphreys, the largest US military base in Korea. We decided to raise money through donations for the shelter. That night we raised over 1.6 million won, which is approximately $1,500. $170 was given to the official V-Day cause, for women in the Democratic Repbulic of Congo, but the rest stayed here in Korea to assist victims of sex trafficking. I'm glad that we were able to educate people about a problem that matters a lot to me, and raise money that can really help the shelter in supporting these women. The shelter can't get government funding since they are helping migrant women and under Korean law that makes them ineligible for federal aid. This is me counting the money after the show and feeling super excited because there was so much to count!

May
So now May is almost over and it's been a good month overall. I got great news last week: I was accepted for graduate school this fall at Charles University in Prague to earn my Masters in Geopolitical Studies. I'm still trying to decide whether to stay in Korea another year or head to the Czech Republic for a new phase of my life. Right now I'm leaning towards grad school because I am really passionate about what I want to study there, and I would love to see a new part of the world and open up more possibilities for the future. Still, I am really happy in Korea and I can pretty easily imagine a second year here. I'll have to decide in a few weeks, so I'll make my official decision public when I need to.

Anyway, in addition to finding out about grad school, it's been a busy month. The weather has gotten nicer - though this weekend we had what I can only assume is a preview of what typhoon weather must be like. I got sunburned pretty badly a week ago and am finally becoming tan as opposed to lobster-red.

I took a trip to Gyeong-ju last weekend, considered the cultural capital of Korea, an it was really nice. My friend from training last fall came down from Seoul and another friend joined us on the trip. Since Buddha's birthday was this weekend, there were paper lanterns all over Korea this month, especially at the temples, which was stunning to see. I really loved the stupas - the piles of wishing stones. I even made my own, and it's now the background picture on my computer. It really has brought me some peace of mind as I try to make this decision about grad school.
In addition, we saw the traditional burial mounds, which are gigantic. Growing up in Wisconsin, I had seen a fair share of Native American burial mounds, but those are generally quite small. Here, the mounds are like perfectly shaped hills, and some even have trees growing on them! The whole trip was fantastic and I look forward to visiting again.

So I guess that brings me up to date! This is my last week of classes for the spring term, and I'm looking forward to starting new classes next week. I'm even more excited that in just 3 short weeks I'll be in the USA for my week-long vacation!