Frustrations

So far I've only discussed the positive elements of living in Korea.

It's time to discuss some of the not-so-hot moments.

To date, I have not cried out of homesickness. However, I was able to live with Oni for the first ten days.

Then the vacation ended, and I had to start my new job and move into my own apartment. 

Because THAT'S not terrifying in the slightest. 

And then, there was the medical check. The usual pleasantries: blood work, hearing/vision test, urine sample. Fun, fun.

The worst part, however, was the getting sick.

Apparently, everybody gets sick when they first arrive. Everybody. And not just "Oh, I don't feel so well. I'll take some Tylenol and sleep this off."

Ooooh, nooooo.

More like "Dear God, take me to the hospital, I've had this shit for a week and I think I'm dying" kind of sick.

It makes sense: new environment, new air, new germs. No immunity.

Regardless: it sucks. I'm far away from home, I don't have my mother to make me soup, and I can't even get my favorite comfort food because they don't sell it on this continent*.

Add into the mix that Oni just came down with the same thing, and you've got two miserable girls. Oni blames me for giving her the flu. My response? Deny, deny, deny. You obviously got it from the kids you teach. Because everyone knows kids are germy. The end.

So that's all for now, mah peeps. I'm off to sleep this off, and go back to the hospital on Tuesday for a follow-up.

Later.



*it's creamsicles, by the way.

Of Showers

Hello, beautiful people. Oni here.

I have a story to tell you.

It begins like this –

A week and a half ago, le younger sister moved into my apartment. I showed her how things work, like the shower/sink. The shower/sink works thusly: Turn the knob to the left and water comes out of the shower-head. Turn the knob to the right and water comes out of the faucet. It's quite simple.

Not for le younger sister. This past weekend, I discovered that what I consider simple is not so simple for her. I walked into the bathroom to wash my hands, turned on the water... and was promptly drenched from head to toe. Turns out, le younger sister had taken a shower an hour previously and had completely forgotten to turn the knob back to faucet.

My face upon exiting the bathroom:

Le younger sister apologized profusely and promised to remember. Her short-term memory apparently expires at three days, because that's how long it took for me to be drenched again.

Again apologies and promises to remember. This morning... le younger sister is drenched.

Oni out.

Learning Korean

I had an interesting experience with the language the first time I visited Korea. Brief history: I have a limited working proficiency in Spanish. I took classes from high school to college and could/can communicate well enough to assist in a retail atmosphere.

What does Spanish have to do with Korean? Apparently, in an attempt to adapt to the unfamiliarity of the language, my brain switched to Spanish-mode. I found myself starting to say "Hola", "Gracias", and "Dónde está el estación del tren?"

I finally laughed at myself when I realized what I was doing, and also I had about 1000x better chances of finding someone who spoke English rather than Spanish at Incheon International Airport.

Since then, Oni and our other expat friends (as well as some of our Korean friends) have been kind enough to teach me some basic Korean phrases, such as "hello", "thank you", and "where is the train station?"

OK, so I don't actually know how to ask where the train station is yet. However, I do know how to say hello, thank you, I would like this [food] to go, and what to tell the cab driver to get back to Oni's apartment. I have used all of these successfully several times. The usual reaction is a surprised shock followed by a flood of what I can only assume is encouragement for my language skills.

This normally sends me running, terrified, in the other direction as I have no idea how to respond.

I'm working on it, okay?

On occasion, however, we run into someone who speaks some English. The most noteworthy to date was the Korean man who asked where I was from, and then told me I was beautiful. That's it. Where are you from? America! You are beautiful.

It was quite possibly my favorite conversation of the day.

So I've been becoming more brave with each passing encounter; hopefully, at some point, I'll be able to converse without fear of making a mistake. Because there's no reason to fear something that is inevitable. It doesn't change anything. There are way too many innocent words that sound uber close to dirty ones for you not to confuse the two. Mistakes are going to happen.

So I'll keep you updated on how my learning Korean is progressing.*

*Oni is may update you on her Korean as well... if she ever posts anything... *hint hint*

Half the Fun

I have a leg up in this whole "flying to a foreign country to live" business in more ways than one. Obviously, I have family waiting for me at the other end. However, I'm referring to the fact that I've flown to Korea before - I visited Oni in Gwangju a couple of months ago. Being in Korea was a great experience and we had a lot of fun.

However, I have to say, as the title suggests, that I have some thoughts on the old travel adage "half the fun is getting there".

Travel is often glamourized. Movies, magazines, even radio give us flawless examples of the ultimate adventure: rugged scenery, immersion in a new culture, and perhaps a sexy travel companion. Adventures like these can happen, and they are life-changing, but they are rarely easy. More often than not, your plane is late, you miss the bus, you don't like the fish you ordered because in attempting to speak a foreign language you accidentally said "fresh" instead of "fried".

 There's no reason to feel like a failure or you're doing it wrong if you experience any sort of mishap. The trick is learning to enjoy the bumps in the road, or at the very least to roll with them.

I went on a 29+ hour journey from Nowheresville, TX to Gwangju, South Korea by myself. I had two carry-on bags (both of which left blood blisters on my shoulders from being so heavy), two checked bags that I could barely lift, and my seat on the international flight had a plastic I-don't-know-what blocking my only available stretch-my-legs area in front of me. Needless to say, parts of it were miserable, but I enjoyed the fact that I got through it without melting down... much. 

So here's to enjoying "getting there" throughout all the bumps, scrapes, layovers, delayed flights, and jet lag.

Hello, Gwangju. I'm ready for my other half.