Trip Down Memory Lane

As I was working on my Korean homework tonight, my computer randomly selected tunes to keep my brain humming as it chugged along trying to figure out the complicated algorithms of Korean speak.
I had to stop and start belting out loud like a true cantante, though, when this great song came on.

La luna y el Toro.

This song reminds me of nights spent by the Alhambra, watching the sun set amidst a handful of tourists. It also brings me back to the mindless tune of walking the Camino de Santiago, a 743km trek through Northern Spain. It reminds me of the time I asked a corner store attendant for jueves de pollo, trying to buy chicken eggs but asking for chicken Thursdays instead. It took a lot of mimicking before that one was finally figured out.
It ALSO reminds me of other sleepless nights which might be crude to discuss here.

So, for your enjoyment too, acquí a loose translation from Spanish: the story of the little bull who is in love with the moon.

The moon was combing herself

in the mirrors of the river

The bull was watching

hidden in the bushes

When the happy morning arrives

and the moon escapes from the river

the bull gets in the water

ramming because she is gone

The little bull is in love with the moon

leaving the herd at night

and is painted with poppies and olives

with a bell put on by the herdsman

The rosemary in the mountains

kiss his forehead

Stars and lights bathe him in silver

The bull is brave, of a courageous breed

His hooves look like colored fans

The moon comes out tonight

with a long black gown

and a bull is looking

between the face and the shade.

And in the face of the river´s water

the moon sleeps

'græm ər

I was proofing somebody’s work today and was stunned to realize that this person had spelled the word "grammar" three different ways...one of them being, of course, the way anal, dictionary-prone people (like yours truly) would opt for: grammar. But also sparsed through the text in black and white, alas, were the objectionable grammer and even fouler grammor.

I pondered this for a while. Then something I’d read not too long ago came to mind:
It's a damn poor mind that can only think of one way to spell a word.

Point taken. I made the necessary changes and opened the next file.

Where's Waldo?

Can you spot a white hat, a yellow arrow, a blue man, and a face mask?

A friend of mine came up from Busan over the weekend. We spent the best part of Saturday exploring Namdaemun Market and Insadong, strolling down the busy alleys, entering random shops at leisure. I finished my Christmas shopping!

It was nice to catch up, sitting in front of a coffee shop window well into the night, watching as Seoul passed us by...

It was also exquisite to eat a hamburger.

:)

Selling Codeine is a Lucrative Business

I know what you're thinking. But I didn't. I kept my codeine for medication purposes. This adorable gathering is simply one more thing to add to the joys of living in Seoul. People here love life. I have often happened upon a grouping of people (typically older) dancing away and having a jolly good time to music blasting in the middle of who-knows-where. Best of all, you're always invited to join in.

Rambobette

Today was a Rambobette kind of a day. Let me explain…

My brother and I grew up in the hood. We were poor. We didn’t have any money. (Ok, not entirely true, but this fits better with my story – we still lived in a hood, though. The kind where your next door neighbour is a tramp and the older boys hold breakdancing competitions on old pieces of carboard lying wet and flat).

So. We didn’t have any money and spent many hours outside until dark, coming up with ways to keep ourselves entertained. My parents were definitely not the overbearing, overprotective kind. One of our favourite games for a while was playing Rambo. My brother was Rambo, and I was…Rambobette! Because my brother is blind, Rambobette could kick Rambo’s ass on any given day. Rambobette was strong. Rambobette was fierce. Rambobette took care of business, if you know what I mean.
(She also wore tighty whities on her head because, in all honesty, BOBETTE means UNDERWEAR in French - a fact which provided more entertainment than the actual impersonation itself).
Regardless. TODAY WAS A RAMBOBETTE KIND OF A DAY. In case you’re wondering, I dressed up soberly to go to work. The undies were where they should have been but I felt so strong and powerful after days of sickness: I massacred tons of work with barely any effort. I roared rumbustiously every time my computer froze. I effortlessly picked my desk drawer up after it unexplicably fell to the floor for the tenth time this month. I strenuously and perilously exercised my voice muscles again and again trying to get kids to walk, not run, down the hall. I hazardously approached the Big Bad Boss in an attempt to win the right to no longer wear face-masks all day long. I battled foes, alone in the midst of adversity (except when the bell would ring and all my colleagues would come into the Teachers’ Room for their 5-minute breaks). I even spewed off enigmatic, lackadaisical Rambobette-type statements. Like this morning, when the Big Bad Boss asked me how I was feeling and if I was doing any better, I said: “I’m fine, Big J, don’t worry about me. The mucus is finally coming in.” It was exactly the type of Wait a minute. Pause. Rewind. Yep, that’s what he said. -kind of Rambo moment.

It was that sort of a day. It felt great to be back at work, flexing muscles that have been resting idle for days.
_______________
*The author wishes you to know that she later made up for kicking Rambo’s butt when they were young by letting him drive their parents’ car when they were teenagers. She gave him the driving lessons nobody else was willing to provide. Rambo, albeit blind, should always be able to hop in a getaway car. It’s a question of safety, period.

**The author also wishes you to know that the Big Bad Boss, or Big J, was only Big and Bad for the purposes of this story. She is actually tiny and, well, quite easy to get along with. Honestly.

Gratitude With a Capital G for the Big G

Sometimes, all you need is a sign. And it makes you smile, and forfeit the urge to throw up, when it makes its appearance. Dear God…um, Yahweh, Allah, Bhagwan or…Buddha?! (well, in any case, you know who You are – wherever and, incidentally, whatever You actually are). “Thank you. I get it.”

Pinot Gets a Time-Out

"Can I come out, now?"

How Pinot got his Name

"Who dared put a water bottle along with the bottles of wine? Must.Fix.This."

-Pinot, true to his name

*The author wishes to state that those 4 bottles were drunk over a somewhat long period of time but are patiently awaiting by the front door to be put away into the recycling. The author pleads laziness, not drunkenness.

C for Codeine

The last month at school has been pretty hectic. Two teachers were victims of pneumonia (one of them twice), one had to have her appendix removed, and three were victims of the much-talked about and dreaded swine flu. One teacher had to have his hand operated, one fell off a motorbike, and one…well, I won’t mention what this last person when through. Eeww! The school’s staff is split up on two floors: morning teachers on the 5th floor, and p.m. teachers on the 2nd floor. Fifteen of us work on the 5th floor, elbow-to-elbow in a small, rectangular room. I say small because, if I whisper, the person in the desk at the other end of the room can still make out what I’m saying. One of my colleagues, Jennifer, has recently affectionately started calling it The Petri Dish. Jennifer was one of the victims of pneumonia, so bear with her, please. I’m surprised she still has a sense of humour. To top it all off, all the teachers have at least experienced one, (and, for most, quite a few) of the following symptoms:

-deep, painful chest cough
-headache
-runny nose
-fatigue
-vomiting (sorry, it had to be said)

-fever

In an effort to keep us all rosy-cheeked, the school has kindly offered to pay for the seasonal flu vaccine AND has imposed mandatory wearing of face-masks. As much as these made me chuckle when I first landed on Korean soil, I must say that I did feel safer behind my tiny cloth barrier.

Still, sick teachers mean that the healthy ones have to compensate with a lot of subbing, which tends to take a toll and perpetuates the circle of sickness. I prided myself on keeping the diseases at bay. Until this weekend, I didn’t even have a cough… I’m built like a horse, and usually quite proud of it.

But it hit me on Sunday. And, again, in typical Mélanie fashion, it hit me all out of whack. I didn’t have the flu, but I didn’t have a cold, either. I’m still pondering that one, too. My symptoms (intense throwing-up, perpetual headache, raw throat) and lack of others (fever, runny nose, muscle ache, throat & nose mucus) threw the doctor off. He said they were problematic. Of course, I already knew that.

So he debated, out loud, over what he was going to prescribe me in order to provide me with some relief.

Before we go any further, I probably should mention that I’m the type of cool person that can have a fairly good time just by ingesting a gravol. They make me laugh hysterically, sometimes to the point of tears. Not always good when you’re suffering from nausea, but I digress. That, in any case, is another story.

To make a long tale short, the good doctor (whose name, to my great discomfort, was Dr. Kwak) prescribed, amongst a variety of other things…codeine. It’s true. I stared silently at him for a while, but left with my prescription, and the beginning of a money-making scheme, in hand. The reception nurse wanted me to wait, because you apparently cannot have a codeine prescription filled at the pharmacy. Only hospitals do it. I went home with two weeks’ worth of roundish, little white tablets.

When I stepped into my apartment, I conducted my own little research. Here is what I found out:

According to Wikipedia, codeine is an alkaloid found in opium and other poppy saps like Papaver bracteatum, the Iranian poppy. Codeine is classed as an illegal drug in Greece, and individuals possessing it could conceivably be arrested, even if they were legitimately prescribed it in another country.

Drugs.com states that codeine can cause side effects that may impair your thinking or reactions. They warn that you should be careful if you drive or do anything that requires you to be awake and alert. They say you should not stop using codeine suddenly, or you could have unpleasant withdrawal symptoms. They advise you to talk to your doctor about how to avoid withdrawal symptoms when stopping the medication.

So, if you do decide to come knocking at my door, please be advised that I TAKE CASH ONLY.

Energizer Bunny Antithesis

This is either the epitome of laziness or a sign that Pinot is getting too fat.

Fuck House or A Knack for Languages

-Ok Méranie... (sometimes, L is pronounced as R in Korea – that’s the way this nurse seemed intent on pronouncing my name, despite my meek attempts at correcting him – I do hate sounding rude!) Please relax while I strap this machine to your left shoulder. You will feeling a fullness of the ear, like pressure bean hurt, but please don’t comment on it, just, you know, relax. Then wind will blowing.

I nod. (If you’d been living here a year, you’d be used to not understanding much, too)

-Ok, Méranie. Now, fuck house.

-(?! Now, this one definitely throws me for a loop).

-Fuck house…NOW!

I try to ignore the sense urgency in his voice as I inquisitively stare at him, trying to gather from his body language if I should keep sitting in my chair or stand up and do...something. I don’t see any houses, and there is some type of medical device strapped to me that definitely impedes movement.

He returns my stare kindly, and repeats:

-Fuck house on the sound, Méranie…NOW!

And then it dawns on me. I smile at him, relax, and FOCUS on the sounds that are blasting through the contraption protruding from my ear.

________________________________________

**In case you were wondering, "pressure bean hurt" doesn't really hurt, it is merely quite uncomfortable.

Dr.’s Appointment or Just my Luck

-Hi. My name is Mélanie. I’d like to make an appointment to see a Dr. today, if possible, please.

-Ok. Why do you want to consult a doctor?

-Because I fear that if I don’t my family will have to arrange for a funeral very soon. (Of course, that’s not exactly what I said, although that was the general message I was trying to convey).

-Ok. Can you come in at 2:40 p.m.?

-Of course.

-Ok. Your appointment is at 2:40 p.m., with…Dr. Kwak.

- (…)

A Day in a Korean ER

I started the day off great. I woke up early, and went for a run. I made coffee and I talked to some of my favourite people on Skype. I was excited because I’m possibly signing up for a marathon and just the thought of it is making me giddy. Regardless of the fact that I can only comfortably run about 2kms right now! I took a shower and headed in to work to quickly print off some documents that I would need come Monday. I’ve been subbing for a friend for the last few days and haven’t had any chance to prep for my own Monday classes. I am not complaining though: the students were great – with many turbulent boys, which I always enjoy. I was heading out for an afternoon of museums & sightseeing with a friend when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

I picked up anyway…and found myself on my way to the hospital. My colleague Jennifer’s condition (she’s the one I’d been subbing for all week) had gotten worse. She was in the ER and needed someone to wait with her. David, the newest AC, had accompanied her there but needed to leave for an hour or two. Jen was being examined by the doctor when I arrived. I didn’t immediately spot her and could only stare around, dumbfounded by the sight of so many sick people sitting around or lying on beds in the hallways. I flashed what I hoped were warm, reassuring smiles to people lying there all alone but most of them were staring sightlessly ahead. They seemed so forlorn that I didn’t know what to do. I just clumsily stood there for a while, wishing there was a way I could let them know that I could help, if they needed it. I wanted to squeeze their arms, pat their foreheads, sit on their beds and chat to wash away their pain but…didn’t want to cause a scene and become known as the demented foreigner so I finally made my way to the nurse’s station.

They were, as always, quite nice and solicitous, and I soon spotted a flash of white skin. I walked up to Jen just as the doctor was sending her for some X-Rays. I went with her. I didn’t think it a good sign when, upon seeing the first negative show up on his screen, the nurse quietly exclaimed: urgh! Urgh!, as I discovered, successfully defeats any language barriers. I let him take a few more before I sidled up to him. “Not good?” I asked. “No, not good” he said. “Pneumonia. See?” I did see. The lung area on the screen was partially covered with swirly white spots.

We were herded back to the main room, where we spent the next 4 or 5 hours. Me, sitting quietly on my seat, experiencing the novelty of a Korean emergency room (complete with lunatic diabetic who would throw herself on the floor and run out of rooms, only to picked up again by what seemed to be her two bodyguards… as well as a sequestred, screaming, high-pitch voiced man who was bodily forbidden to leave and go home), while Jen was prodded, pricked, and asked for blood, urine, or stool samples…again…again…and again. The poor girl was a real sport, calmly answering intimately personal questions and accepting a portable toilet seat in front of a roomful of people. David joined us again at one point and the three of us almost dissolved into giggles when, after about 3 hours of having received the verdict of Pneumonia and waiting to be admitted into a room, a nurse came over and asked Jen what was wrong with her and why she was in today. We kept our cool, though (the face masks thankfully helped to hide our hilarity) and after explaining her condition yet again, settled down for a few more hours of waiting.

I left a bit later on to pick up a few necessities for Jen and met her back at her room. We were explained hospital policy and made friends with her nurse. As I was leaving, I was made to understand that my friend’s condition was quite bad and that I should, really, spend the night. I told the concerned caretaker that, okay, I only needed to run home and freshen up and would then return for the night time vigil.

I hadn’t been home for 25 minutes when my phone rang. It was the nurse, telling me Jen’s condition REALLY wasn’t that great and I should definitely be at the hospital. She (the nurse), was counting on me. I’d just spent a whole afternoon in an ER, was missing out on a wine night with some coworkers, and she STILL,with that one word, managed to make me feel like crap for deserting a friend for a few hours.

I took a shower, cleaned the rabbit cage (it definitely needed it), chugged down a glass of wine (I definitely needed it) and hopped in a taxi.

I’m writing this now, while listening to the gurgling sounds coming from behind the curtain. Jen is in a room with six other people. She definitely didn’t look good when I came back – her fever had gone way up and she had started coughing a lot. It’s dark now, and I’m lying on a cot by her bed, typing... I don’t have any blankets, and someone keeps spitting up phlegm. Jen is moaning in her sleep and is tossing around a lot but her coughing seems to have stopped. Oh, wait, I was lying. I bonded a bit with her doctor in the hallway. We're on a first name basis now, it seems. I really like Korean people: the doctor wanted to chat for a bit and even gave me a hug and a shoulder squeeze when I told her I was fine on the cot and that I didn’t need another chair. A Korean ajumma from two beds down came in unannounced at lights out to make sure we knew where the headlight was. We didn’t need it as the light coming in from the hallway allows us considerable night vision (it could probably be seen from space), but I appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. I just heard a big crash and voices are getting louder in the hallway. I’m going to go check it out.

These are the days of my life.

14 in 1

I was observing a colleague’s class this morning when I became so excited I was actually perched on the edge of my seat. A strong teaching aptitude is a hard skill to hone and I marvelled at what I saw. I was watching this man’s class as if I was a dog and you’d thrown me a bone. I want to be able to teach that way, too!

I’m certainly competent when it comes to schooling or I wouldn’t be asked to do what I do: every month, part of my time is spent observing 14 teachers (one at a time). I take notes, I meet with them to provide feedback, and then write-up evaluation forms. Although time consuming, this is the part of my job that I like best. It gets me very excited. I sit alone in a bleak, grey observation room that looks more like a detective’s dismal interrogation quarters and I watch classes through a small TV screen. I listen to my colleagues speak through irritating crackling noises. Still, I am fascinated. I smile, I frown, I cheer…I sometimes even get up from my seat in frustration…but, mostly, I applaud greatness. These 14 teachers come from so many different backgrounds. Some are younger. Some are older. Some have been teaching for a few years. Some are brand new, never having put themselves through this gruelling process before.

They are all incredible, and, lucky me, I get to learn from all of them.

Found in Translation

I love the way some things get translated from Korean to English. For instance, I recently acquired a new pen from the supply cabinet at school. It’s a very thrifty pen, all sleek and black, with shiny silver lettering stating MACH pen, in italics. It’s a strong pen. It has character. It also states Tank System. Liquid Ink. Perfect! The latest technologies, all combined in one, all in my pen! I will get tons of work done with this baby! And...as an after-thought, who would want dry or solid ink, anyway?

Regardless. It also states:

superior image and its value


Just like that, all alone and in lowercase letters.

And that makes me giggle. Although it’s true, I think. I do look cool with my sleek, new pen.

For the Sake of a Little Bit of Culture

So, my friend Andrew and I are taking Korean classes. I was quite excited, at first, because the books we bought seemed well suited to our learning styles. We purchased a text book, a practice book, and something that could pass as Cole’s notes for Korean class. I use the word was, as in was excited, even though tonight was only, technically, our second class. It went like this:

-실례합니다, 앤드류씨가 여기 있어요? (sillyehamnida, Andrewsiga, yogi isseoyo?)

This is said really, really fast, and really could mean just about anything…I’m thinking This is just a joke, Korean can’t be that incomprehensible. Yogi. Yogi, yogi, yogi. That reminds me of my youth, when the four of us used to gather around the TV screen late on a Saturday night! Should I admit that I do, in fact, enjoy Star Wars? Yogi Jedis are so handsome! but I am made to understand that, in reality, it means : “Excuse me, is Andrew here?”)

Andrew is sitting right in front of me. I don’t say it, but I clearly indicate it with a not so subtle movement of my eyes.

-아니요, 없어요. (Anio, opseoyo -This is Korean speak for « No, he isn’t. ») I am forced to repeat this veeeeeeeeeeeeeery slowly by Jay, my very determined Hanguka teacher…

-어디에 있어요? (Oedie issoyo – “ Where is he?” ) , she says. Again, I indicate with my eyes that, clearly, he is sitting right there, straight in front of me. I can tell she doesn’t think I’m funny, so I peek in my book and state:

-극장에 있어요. (Keuktchangè isseoyo – "He is at the movie theater.")

Then I wipe off the sweat from my brow and turn the page. I don't look up when she says: "Next". I have a dreary gut feeling that she is staring straight at me.

Gwanaksan

I had only been back at work for one week but my mind was struggling with the thought that I’d made a commitment to be here for one more year. I love my job… even though I struggle daily with it. I am constantly facing up to new challenges, tough decisions, short deadlines, long hours, and people, people, and more people. Mostly, I thrive on it. Occasionally, I long to be a…hermit, alone with a book, my thoughts, myself.

Again, I am amazed at how well things always fall together for me. Ask, my friend, and you shall receive. My buddy Abbey suggested we sign up for an overnight climb on Gwanaksan, one of the highest mountains surrounding Seoul. We were to meet up with a group of about 40 other climbers, and start our trek around midnight.

It was just what I needed. We climbed, stopping sporadically, until about 3:30 a.m., when we stopped on a ledge. Seoul was superb, brightly lit and glowing far below. Never mind that it was a hot, humid, windless night. Yes, I was covered in sweat and drenched in oily, thick mosquito repellent. Still, my discomfort disappeared as I could only stare in awe. We decided to let the other climbers go on to the final destination – our ledge provided us with what we wanted and needed.

It got quite calm once the others left but we weren’t even scared. I’ve camped out every year throughout my life and I still get the heebie jeebies and think of Jason from Friday the 13th movies every time I need to use the outhouse at night. But – I wasn’t afraid. I was sitting on a rocky ledge, miles outside, and high on top, of a city of twenty million people, and I was at peace. I used the bushes at leisure. We joked about throwing water at whatever came rushing at us when we would hear rustling or howling (ok, there was no howling) but then we lay back on the rock, forming our bodies into its nooks and crannies, rested our heads on our backpacks as pillows, and chatted under the illuminated sky.

I was reminded of a quote that I’d read not too long ago:

Keep your sense of proportion by regularly, preferably daily,visiting the natural world. - Catlin Matthews

Souvenirs de Québec

Lettre à Myriam

Chère Myriam,

J’ai voulu t’écrire un mot puisque je ne te verrai pas avant une autre année. Ce soir, je suis arrivée chez moi, je me suis versée un verre de vin (du Pinot grigio – un jour, je t’en ferai goûter) et j’ai ouvert un courriel que ta maman m’a envoyé. C’est là que j’ai aperçu ta jolie petite binette pour la première fois.

Mon Dieu que tu es belle! Tu es si mignonne, endormie et emmitouflée dans ton pyjama. Je trouve que ton nom te va à merveille – si on en recherche l’étymologie, on apprend que Myriam est le nom d’une enjôleuse, attendrissante avec des yeux de biche, pour qui l’amour sera la grande affaire de sa vie. Il paraît que tu seras charmante, attrayante et éminemment féminine. Ce que tu rechercheras par-dessus tout, ce sera d’être appréciée, aimée et protégée. Va. Tu es bien partie pour y arriver!

Le fait que tu sois parmis nous est en soit une énorme preuve d’amour! Il n’y a pas si longtemps, tu n’étais qu’un principe sur lequel on avait mis une croix. Trop dangereux, trop demandant, trop inquiétant. Puis, le temps, prenant son temps, a fait son chemin. L’amour de ta maman, pour ton papa, pour ton frère, pour toi, aussi, petite graine d’idée que tu étais, a pris le dessus. Et, te voilà! Elle ne pense pas souvent à elle en premier, ta maman, mais c’est une de ses qualités...

Je connais ta maman depuis des années. Elle est beaucoup plus sérieuse, maintenant (eh oui, c’est une maman, que veux-tu? Tu sais qu’elle m’a chicané il n’y a pas longtemps parce que j’ai essayé de faire faire des mauvais coups à ton frère? Il a fallu que je m’y prenne en cachette! Moi, je ne suis pas encore maman! Et maintenant, ton frère lance des balles, parle aux extra-terrestres et a peur de se faire pincer les pieds par des écrevisses lorsqu’il va à la piscine!) Un jour, malgré ta maman, je t’en conterai des histoires, à toi aussi... promis!

Quand tu seras un peu plus grande, je pourrai te raconter plein de choses à son sujet. Elle n’a pas toujours été sage même si elle veut t’en montrer l’image! Oh non! Ta maman, c’est une personne pleine d’entrain, créative, rebelle et fonceuse. Elle s’est assagie, c’est certain, mais je l’entend encore me convaincre de refuser de porter l’uniforme réservé au filles lors d’un spectacle musical au secondaire. Nous n’étions que deux filles en pantalons, ce jour-là. Notre prof, s’il l’avait pu, nous aurait mises dehors en deux mouvements.

Ta maman, c’est une non-conventionelle! Elle grille des guimauves au-dessus d’une chandelle lorsque la pluie lui refuse un feu de camp, elle peut chanter du Passe-Partout pendant des heures pour passer le temps, et elle cuisine des petits plats tellement tentants.

Il n’y aura jamais d’araignées dans ta maison, Myriam... Ta mère a pour elles un radar supersonique. Tu n’as rien à craindre. Et puis, tu ne t’ennuieras jamais puisqu’elle est si créative. Elle te fera sûrement des livres dans lesquels tu te retrouveras héroïne, te composera certainement de jolies chansonnettes, et te feras sans doute fabriquer toutes sortes de babioles à partir de tout et de rien.

Amuse-toi, Myriam! Tu seras choyée et bien élevée, cela ne fait aucun doute! Sûrement trop, même, et nous devrons te corrompre en cachette. Au fait, je ne me tracasse pas tant que ça – j’allais oublier ta grand-mère!

Tu es bien entourée, petite fille. Soit la bienvenue au monde. Je lève mon verre à ta santé!

Mélanie

N.B. (Je dois en profiter pour m’excuser. J’ai dit à ta mère, il n’y a pas si longtemps, que Myriam était un nom, non pas banal mais, qui, enfin...ne me plaisait pas tant que ça. J’en ai maintenant une toute autre opinion. Je trouve qu’il te sied comme un gant).

Myriam, qui a à peine quelques jours

South Korea VS America

I was observing a new teacher as part of her training process today and she was attempting to explain the use of the word "MY!" to her students. She was in the process of using it in different sentences to make its meaning clear (as in "My! I feel under the weather today!") when her 6 year-old student piped up:

"Oh, teacher! That's an idiom!

Kimchi Field Museum

A word on kimchi, from Wikipedia:

Kimchi (pronounced /ˈkɪmtʃɪ/, Korean pronunciation: [kimtɕʰi]), also spelled gimchi, kimchee, or kim chee, is any one of numerous traditional Korean pickled dishes made of vegetables with varied seasonings. Its most common manifestation is the spicy baechu (cabbage) variety. Kimchi is the most common banchan, or side dish. Kimchi is also a common ingredient and combined with other ingredients to make dishes such as kimchi stew (kimchi jjigae) and kimchi fried rice (kimchi bokkeumbap). Kimchi is so ubiquitous that the Korea Aerospace Research Institute (KARI) developed space kimchi to accompany the first Korean astronaut to the Russian-manned space ship Soyuz.[1] (Huh! How about that!)

That being said, you can imagine how excited my friend Abbey and I were when we found out that we could, amongst many other things, do the following at the Kimchi Field Museum:

#5 - You can touch and smell the five ingredients of Cabbage Kimchi.
This, by the way, is what one of over 80 different kinds of kimchi can look like:

#8 - You can take your photograph in the company of a lady wearing a beautiful traditional Korean costume while you are posing with a radish kimchi model.
(Pose with a radish?! Totally rad!)

Source: Pulmuone Kimchi Field Museum Pamphlet

You could also, should you feel so inclined, sit down at an interactive table and, following the light show of moving hands, pretend to be eating kimchi yourself. The talented Abbey demonstrates:

We wondered about the raw symbolism of the ceiling, featuring hanging threads of paper napkins.

We admired the Kimchi art. Who knew kimchi could stir such devotion, could be the source of so much inspiration! These were my favorites:

Please note, if I may, the birth of Kimchi Man (in the last picture) as he slowly unfurls from the Kimchi Leaf. Touching. Beautiful! I couldn’t read the caption by the frame but I imagined him to be a type of all-encompassing deity, to whom you should send prayers of never going hungry. I imagined he looks after us all, from his cozy throne of Cabbage Kimchi. I felt peaceful. Anne Geddes becomes so... passé, once you've witnessed the serenity of this painting.

We did, however, completely miss #11, or the Tasting Room. I am sad to say we never even saw it.

Of Tacos and Pacos

My friend Abbey & I went to the Kimchi Museum today. Um hum! Ya-a! There is, truly, such a place, and it is dedicated only to pickled cabbage and its health benefits. How very exciting!

But, even though we couldn’t contain ourselves for much longer, we decided to stop on the way to wolf down some very yummy Mexican food at a place called On the Border. (Mexican food is a rarity in Seoul, and we were passing right in front of it).

While we were perusing the menus, the waitress brought taco chips. Big ones. Still hot! I reached for the basket…and a thought came immediately to mind. Sooo. About Paco…

“Wow. Really?”, I thought. “You want to bring this up now?”

Mind over matter, it turns out, is quite easy for me. My mind won. I spaced out on Abbey…I think I still managed to churn out some convincing um hum sounds while continuing to scan the menu.

But my mind was relentless. You see, Paco & I meant something to each other once, not too long ago. We loved each other intensely for a short (ok, very short) while. We would laugh. We would sing. We would dance. We would eat. In fact, we did a lot of all of those. We would have the best of times just waiting in line somewhere together. It was just him, and just me. We talked about moving in together. But then it was maybe just a little bit too much of him, and maybe just slightly not enough of me, and we both went our separate ways.

It was a sad time. It was an angry time. It was a lonely time, for me. But time does, in fact, h-e-a-l. I’ve dated two amazing men since, one of whom I know will be in my life for years to come.

I met Paco once over my one-month vacation. Somehow, he’d heard I was in town and rang me up. He suggested we meet for lunch.

I went. We had fun! We can still talk, and we still laugh the same way at the same things. We entertained each other, and bounced witty comments off of each other.

I had a bbq to go to, so we got up to leave. He gave me a ride to the local LCBO in his jag (Or was it a ferrari? He always did love fast cars. I, on the other hand, prefer anything with a big trunk. The bigger, the better!) We parted ways. I don’t know where he went. Perhaps back to his parents’ basement, where he’s been living ever since?

Let it remain a mystery. I purchased some wine, and rushed outside to meet my ride and off we went to our evening party.

I didn’t even think twice about it. Until then, that is, as I was sitting in a restaurant, perusing a menu, and reaching for a taco. Which, incidentally, rhymes with Paco.

And so the world doth go on.

About Pinot

I told one lie in my lifetime. And, as you know it, what goes around, comes around, and this one came back to hurt me.

You know how the universe conspires to help you? And that, if you really want something, it will somehow rein in all its mighty powers and, within minutes, days, months…or sometimes even years, helps you get it? Well, I wanted a rabbit once. Really badly. Been wanting one for years, to be honest. And Mrs. Universe just couldn’t be bothered to help me out. Then I read The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, and it hit me. Just like that, one day, I heard it talk to me. The Universe needed my help to set things in motion. You see, it wanted me to have a rabbit, but I was like the person that wishes to win the lottery without ever buying a ticket. It made perfect sense. What the Universe told me, that day, was “Go BUY one.” Universes, it turns out, are pretty straight shooters.

“Yeah!" I thought. “This is simple, but tricky.” I was still living at my parents’ place. Mom didn't want me to buy a rabbit. She’d made that pretty clear. Many, many times. Dad couldn’t care less and knew my mom cared even less about his opinion. So, for a while, the status quo sat. I presented this dilemma to my new acquaintance, Mrs. Universe. She told me what I had to do.

What do you want me to say? When the wheels are set in motion, there is no turning back.

The Universe made me do it. I flung out a…LIE: I told my mom that a friend at work had a cute little bunny but was allergic. She had to get rid of it but didn’t want the hassle of looking for a new home. If no one took it soon, she would have it put to sleep.

That was the clincher. My mom knows of my anxiety when I swat bugs (see previous blog, Bugger) and totally understood my sorrow at the possibility of this (well… that, and the fact that I asked, and asked, and ASKED if we could just please, please, P-L-E-A-S-E save that poor little doomed thing’s life. Over, and over. So she finally said, quite graciously “Oh, just do what you want!”

So, I did. I bought a cage. And a bunny. I set-up the cage at my friend Caroline’s house. Then I brought both home. Mom met Cocotte. We coldly discussed how my colleague was a sans-coeur, and it was kismet.

Or, rather, serendipity. My mom must have wished some things too, and wouldn’t you know it, the Universe started conspiring FOR HER. Cocotte was one mean bunny. She hated to be petted. She tried to bite. Her teeth started growing in crookedly and she would drool a lot, which caused her neck to itch. So she started scratching, and, oh God, c-h-e-w-i-n-g at her own skin to stop the perpetual discomfort. I felt responsible, and brought her to the vet. He kindly said that she would need to be put to sleep every two to three months, and have her teeth shaved (shaven?). All for the meek price of $180 (each time). The only glitch was, rabbits are very nervous animals, and may not survive being put to sleep. The stress makes their heartbeats accelerate, and they sometimes die from a heart attack. The vet kindly told me it was a tad cruel, and not really worth it but…my anguished tears told him otherwise. So, Cocotte had her first operation. I felt horrible, having to put her through all that. That, and, I didn’t really have the budget to pay for all I was putting her through. I was working to finance my way through university at the time.

Cocotte had a second operation. The vet told me she probably wouldn’t survive the next. So, I made the decision to have her put down. I left her there, because I couldn’t bear the fact that I was the master of her execution. I had bought her, promising to take care of her and to provide her with shelter for years to come. I had also told an elaborate lie, to someone I love very much, in order to get her. Yet, that day, I was abandoning her on a stone-cold grey counter.

I still get nightmares about that. I get an ugly feeling in my stomach, every time I think of her. My throat constricts, my face tingles and my eyes start to water. In fact, I had to pause and get a tissue just now.

I learned my lesson.

And, um, now, may I introduce you to Pinot. A teacher from school bought him, only to soon realize she was allergic to him. For real, this time. She would show up at work, all puffy-eyed and wheezing. (Or so I like to imagine). With Cocotte in mind, I tried for a little redemption. I offered to take him in. It was…Kismet! The Universe was once again on my side, easing my burden of long carried grief just a little bit. This fellah is cuddly, curious, and prone to random, comical bursts of energy. True, he can look possessed, when he shakes his head, but I just turn a blind eye. I’ll take what I can.

However, I have to get rid of him, too. My landlord, it seems, doesn’t allow pets in her building. (I don’t mind, really, because he is a bit of a pain to feed on weekends when I want to travel). Still, let it be known, I pledge my darnedest to find this one a good home.

Fuck la mode

J’ai pris cette photo dans une ruelle du vieux Québec mais, après une semaine en quarantaine, c’est à peu près devenu mon discours, aussi. Je pense avoir fait peur à la caissière, au dépanneur, avec mes lulus, mon t-shirt froissé, mon jeans troué et mes vieilles sandales effilochées.

I took this picture in Quebec City but it’s just about become my motto, after having spent a week at home, under quarantine. I think I stunned the corner store’s cashier by showing up in pigtails, with a wrinkled shirt, ripped jeans, and old sandals. Translation: Fuck Fashion!

Ainsi va la vie

Ce qui est intéressant, lorsque l’on vieillit, c’est de se rendre compte de l’importance que l’on accorde à différentes choses dans nos vies. Je n’ai pas beaucoup de choses à mon nom. À peine de quoi remplir une ou deux valises, puisque j’habite à l’autre bout du monde. Mais la vie suit son cours, et je mûris. Il y a 3 ans, je n’aurais même pas bronché devant ce qui m’est arrivé aujourd’hui. J’aurais laissé l’électricien entrer, j’aurais baillé…et je serais probablement retournée à mon roman en attendant qu’il ait terminé son travail. Aujourd’hui, par contre, j’ai fait une petite danse, je lui ai sauté au cou, et je suis sortie acheter une bouteille de vin pour célébrer plus tard avec des amis.

Mesdames et messieurs…mon nouveau FOUR!

Parti, le réchaud dégueulasse à 2 places!

Sunflower Suprise

This cutie is my Godchild. I say this with much pride, albeit just a bit of shame, too. I won’t get into the details of it here but I don’t know that I believe in God. I do, though, have morals, and values… a strong sense of duty, and an undeniable enthusiasm for life. I have also promised to guide this child on his path of existence (in what I view is my slightly altered definition of Godmother). I am not this child’s mother (or father, even) but I consider myself a loving third party that will look over him forever. This is a picture of us feeding ducks at the cottage (I was not in my underwear, thank…God!? That time is slightly passé, for me).

Well, I’m slightly out of frame. But I was there. I taught Mathéo to be still, and to extend his hand so the ducks would walk right up to him. He laughed, and sat still, and proceeded to stone the ducklings with sunflower seeds in his excitement. I will cherish times like these forever.

Note: The next day, the duck came back without any ducklings. I spent an excruciating moment wondering if maybe the unshelled sunflower seeds were the culprits, having somehow been the demise of the cute duckies’ frail intestines. THAT would have been classic. But it turned out that no…they showed up moments later (even in Duckland, showing up with mom is not cool) and, in true teenager fashion, proceeded to let me know, in no unsure way, that, unshelled or not, sunflower seeds are NOT daunting to tiny intestines.

The Many States of Zeb

Gardening 101

I have a friend with a flower name that recently wilted. You see, her gardener, usually quite generous in his care & devoted attention to fostering this blossom to full bloom, recently opted for a cheaper fertilizer. The flower, so accustomed to a tender touch & faithful devotion, drooped & withered almost instantaneously. But, this flower is strong, & I know she can stand on her own. I’m just happy to hear that the gardener has avidly enrolled in Gardening 101, with hopes of better tending his garden. Stand firm, little flower.

My Dad & I

Everybody that knows my dad & I well... knows we have a love/hate relationship going on. Mostly love now… mostly hate through my various stages of growing up (interspersed with the occasional bouts of LIKE). You see, we are so much ALIKE, in so many ways, and so very DIFFERENT, in so many other ways, that we can go from laughing in close camaraderie together one minute to wanting to pull each other’s nasty hair out the next. Still, I LOVE my Dad. It’s just that… please, please, PLEASE… tell me I get my looks from my mom!

Author’s Note: This is not really my dad. In reality, my dad looks quite distinguished. Everybody knows that. This is just what my dad would look like, if, say, he was building a deck at the cottage on a very wet, humid day. This is what my dad would look like if he was insanely happy about said deck. Hypothetically.

Ok! Now...Hop on!

I recently just got back to Seoul. I am under quarantine, which I might have to write about a little later. It has to do with a deep-rooted Korean fear of disease and the fact that I might have contracted swine flu on the 26-hour flight back. I am currently diligently working from home but was going through my vacation pictures just now. I came across one that I wanted to share, as it always makes me chuckle when I see it. To me, it embodies the true Korean spirit. You see, Koreans appear quite conservative at first but, the more you stay here, the more you get to witness an innate sense of playfulness.

It happened to me on July 1st. I hadn’t even left the country yet. I’d just stepped off the Airport Limousine. It had been a long ride to Incheon Airport through the city’s busy morning traffic. The driver had spotted my blond-haired, white-skinned, English teacher look, and made it a point of asking me to translate sentences for him throughout the trip. He even pronounced his little speeches in Korean AND in English, although I was, QUITE obviously, the only foreigner there. When I stepped off the bus, he rushed to get my suitcases himself, and asked the valet (yes - of course, Airport Limousines have baggage valets) if he could take a picture of us. We took a traditional picture, smiling at the camera, standing side-by-side. Then, he turned around and said… “Ok! Now…Hop on!” I looked left. I looked right. Yup. The sidewalk WAS full of Koreans and tourists of all nationalities. This would NOT go unnoticed. But still, really, what else could I do?

Bugger

I can never squash bugs. I am not sure if this phenomenon evolved from basic girlish squeamishness or is simply a reflection of the freakishly generous depths of my soul, but the truth of the matter is, I CANNOT bring myself to S-Q-U-A-S-H. Today, I saved a wasp. I noticed it suddenly, roaming around on the inside of my window. I was kick-started to action and put on a hooded sweater, gloves, pants, and running shoes. I tied a scarf around my face. I then caught it, with the help of a trusty Tupperware container and a piece of paper. I took off the scarf, gloves, hood, and running shoes before I ran downstairs to let the thing free.

Yesterday, I rescued an Asian centipede from being killed by the floods of my morning shower. The grateful thing, having recovered from near-death and in high spirits, now holds court on the wall by the entrance door to my building. I know this because I saw it there with members of its harem on my way back from buying milk at the corner store. I think it waved hello.

Sigh. I wonder about this deeply rooted need to SAVE things…I’ve been know to trap and release cockroaches, for crying out loud. Even worse, my 2nd grade classmates used to bring me their broken pencil leads all the time because I collected them (the truth is, I felt bad for them. I felt you shouldn’t chuck something out just because you thought it no longer served a purpose). I also went through a phase where I couldn’t ERASE anything in my school workbooks. You know it: it wasn’t the LETTER’s fault I hadn’t drawn it correctly! THAT was N-U-T-S-O. It’s irrational, I know. But it took me a while to get over it. I should probably talk to someone about it…but everybody speaks Korean here, so it will have to wait. Until another bug comes around. In the meantime, I should put a sign up stating Happy Bugs Asylum on my apartment door. I wonder what my neighbours would think. They’re not ALL Koreans.

March 29th, 2009

Aaahhh...It is close to 9p.m. on Sunday night. I am sipping a glass of red wine, doing laundry and realizing that, for the first time ever since I’ve been here, I HAVE NO CLASSES TO PLAN FOR TOMORROW! Woot! Woot! I only teach in the morning now since I recently took over the position of Academic Coordinator at work and am able to enjoy much more time to myself over the weekends. The last two days have been great: on Friday, we had had a goodbye party for a colleague at work, I climbed a mountain on Saturday and saw Confessions of a Shopaholic and…I shopped all day today! Maybe the movie affected me, or maybe spring was in the air but, hey, a girl needs a wardrobe!

Achasan:

I climbed Achasan with my friends Abbey and Laura yesterday. It was an easy climb and the day was beautiful! The sky was bright blue and the weather was brisk and windy, just how I like it! Near the top, we were invited by some Korean men to share Makeolli (a type of Korean rice vodka) and a feast of Kimchi and barbecued fish. They cooked the fish on a grill they kept inside a plastic cooler. Interestingly, it turned out to be quite good. I'd never poked chopsticks at a dead fish staring at me before but I came out of the experience mentally unscathed ;)

Here is a view of Seoul from the mountain's peak:

We happened upon an outdoor gym:

Bus Express Terminal:

The weather is changing here and spring fever is starting to hit. I woke up in the mood for some S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G today. Some Korean friends of mine had recommended I try out a place called Bus Express Terminal. Ladies and gentlemen, I DO NOT KNOW HOW I WILL EVER GO BACK HOME! This place was amazing. Underground shopping alleys, tons of fun, cheap clothes...I am a happy girl. On my way back, I met a random Korean guy who chatted with me in English all the way home (turns out he lives right next to me!). We parted ways...and he kissed my hand. Chivalry isn't dead, and for that, I'm grateful.

October 3rd, 2008

I have made tremendous progress (and probably regressed just as much!) in the month since I’ve written on here. First, I just want to say that I’ve discovered red bean ice cream and, as crazily disgusting as that might sound since it DOES consist, in fact, of big red beans mixed in with ice cream… it is probably THE most delicious dessert I have ever had. Truly. I LOVE IT. Move over Hagen Daaz!... Here comes, well, something that sounds like Myongdeong Sun Choeon. Actually, I just made that up. That sounds more like the name of the nearest subway station. I really DON’T know what it’s called. Which brings me to say that one of my aforementioned regressed progress is that I have completed lesson 1 of my self-teach Korean book…about a month ago. And then I started teaching, and my life disappeared on me. Fear not, it is slowly reappearing, and my friend’s boyfriend is setting me up with a Korean language exchange partner which I am meeting this week. Should be fun! She is a University student who wants to practice her English (and I am, well, a dinosaur that wants to learn Korean ;)

That being said, let me go back to my last entry, in which I mentioned that I was going to the Insadong district of Seoul for a medical check-up. Now THAT was interesting! We left early in the morning (I went with 3 other new teachers: Blaise, Eileen, and Jasmine). We had a bit of a hard time finding our way around but eventually reconnoitred and ended up at the right Medical Center. And what a Medical Center it turned out to be! After registering and paying the 86 000 Won fee, which the school paid for us, we were asked to change into pink robes and plastic sandals. (This turned out to be pretty funny since Blaise wears something like a size 11 and the largest Korean men’s size is probably about a size 7, so just picture him walking around… ;) We were then sent to various stations where we were X-rayed, weighed, measured, probed, and pricked. We also had to go through electrograms and take a vision test (which I took with my lenses on but…what the hey! – I guess my vision was good enough as it was!). As unpleasant as this may sound, it turned out to be, well, I won’t say pleasurable, cause that would just be weird…but okay experience. The Medical Center turned out to look just like a hotel lobby and we got to sit on ornate couches while waiting for our next station. There was modern art on the wall and ostentatious chandeliers hanging from the ceilings…all things to fire up conversation and we had a pretty good time laughing while waiting around. The final part of my examination was the actual consultation with the doctor. I went in with the nurse, as he was a man. He smiled at me, didn’t bother turning off his computer screen – on which he was reading a tabloid article of Julia Roberts – and came over to question me on my physical habits. He asked me a few questions –Did I smoke? No. Did I do the drugs? No. He listened to my heart beat, ran his hand quickly down my spine and…that was it! We were done! (The school has since received the doctor’s diagnostic of my condition. I am listed as NORMAL in approximately 20 conditions I can’t decipher. I wonder what would have happened should one of them have said ABNORMAL…or even PARANORMAL? The first would have been scary…well, the second one too, I guess)

We then went for a long walk through the Insadong district, which is known as Seoul’s most fascinating shopping street (trust me, not a small feat!). It is like a grander Sparks Street in that it is traffic-free on weekends and features art galleries displaying the work of top artists, potters and designers. There is also a multitude of restaurants and teashops as well as tons of small kiosks selling souvenir knick-knacks, embroidery, antiques, calligraphy brushes, incense sticks, and Buddhist items.

After having refreshing plum and jujube tea, off to home we went to nap before going to a baseball game with some other teachers from the school.

Now. I don’t really know how to describe a Seoul baseball game. I will put a video up, I think, to convey the actual effect of sitting in the bleachers. It was quite an exciting game, as Seoul’s two home teams were playing each other, and the stadium was quite full. It was also a Christmas in Summer type of deal and many activities were happening in between the innings. But, and here is where I have no words, the crowd is so UNBELIEVINGLY into it. Trust me. You’ve never seen anything like it. It is such a cheerful place. Everyone comes in with these plastic clubs and - I can’t stop giggling as I write this – will pound them for 3 HOURS while led by a choreographer and a team of CHEERLEADERS. Seriously. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! Watch the video. I will put it up on Facebook. A bunch of girls behind us were also dressed up as kittens wearing baseball jerseys, mini-skirts and heels which I thought was a LITTLE much compared to my bland shorts and t-shirt but, well…anyways…

And then, after that weekend…I STARTED WORKING. My life has been a blur ever since. I think my last totally conscious moment was the morning of September fourth, before I went in to teach my first class. I’ve been caught in a whirlwind since then. My schedule is absolutely crazy and requires much planning and correcting outside of school hours. My evenings and weekends are spent trying to get my head out of the water. I’m just trying to get ahead of things… Whenever I feel as though I am getting the hang of things, another item I have to do is added to my already long list of tasks. I’ve survived my first weekend workshop and, in two weeks, will have to go through open-classes and PTA meetings BUT I HAVE just received my first monthly evaluation and am quite happy with the results. Hopefully, I’ll survive this routine long enough to get a second one…

As much as my schedule is hectic, I want to say that I was extremely lucky with the classes I was assigned. I have the best groups of kids and I just love my last class on Friday evenings. I teach a fourth grade class that contains some of the sweetest kids I’ve ever gotten to work with. They have really magnetic personalities and their group dynamic is unbelievable. So being in class is actually fun and rewarding but it’s the being well-prepared and staying on top of the correction that is extremely time consuming. I’m working on it.

And trying to get enough sleep. Thursday night, I was in bed at 8:30 and woke up past 9:30 the next morning. Me! I’m usually a night-owl but this schedule is DRAINING me! It was about the same the Friday before that. I fare a little better on Saturdays but…please let it get better! I wasn’t expecting my time in Korea to be ALL spent on grading Writing Topics! Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a little bit (or maybe I’m just saying that because my bosses might one day read this! ;P Hee! Hee! )

I am trying to get out there and do things, though. Next week, I am participating in the Hi Seoul’s 10k race. I don’t think I’m half as prepared as I should be as I don’t have much time to go running but I’m already excited about it! And today, I visited Dongdaemun Market with a friend. It turned out to be this HUGE outdoor market surrounded by a big department store and a variety of other shops. It was neat but the CROWD of people makes you feel like an ant in a football field. You risk being crushed at any minute by a wall of people walking towards you! We did get to see a fashion show, though…

As we went though an alleyway, we happened upon what looked like a troupe of professional actors putting on body paint and fancy, out-of-this-world costumes. They looked very fancy-schmancy and we couldn’t wait to see what the play would be like. Then we turned the corner and realized they were putting on a fashion show, as a huge catwalk had been erected in the middle of the large plaza. The music was blaring, a speech was said (of which I only understood that this show was put on by university students – and THAT was written on the large billboard besides the speaker) and the show started. SOOOOOOOOO funny! I think they had put so much time and effort on creating the costumes that they actually, no joke, forgot to plan catwalk routines! They would just walk down, in an I’m half-heartingly strutting my stuff kind of way, pose in a weakly I’m hot shit but my muscles are weak stance at the end of the runway, then turn and RUSH back to hide behind the curtains. We had a good laugh!

When I got back home, I snapped on the light to my apartment and went on high alert mode. I looked straight ahead…snapped my head to the right…snapped my head to the left…tiptoed to my bedroom, repeated the stratagem… tiptoed across the whole apartment…peeked under my bed…peered behind the washroom door…gazed behind the fridge and into the sink…and tried to calm my heartbeat to a respectable rhythm. It pains me to say this but…I’VE GOT ROACHES. I caught two two weeks ago and captured another one this week. I haven’t seen any other but….EEEEEWWWWWW!!!
They are so CREEPY! I can’t sleep without the light on anymore and I’m typing this with my legs around my neck. No way are my feet touching the floor when I can’t see them! And NO, I’m not high-maintenance… Bugger off. I JUST DON’T LIKE COCKROACHES! La cucaracha my BUTTOCKS!

Speaking of creepy crawlers, my 2nd grade Listening class is listening to a CD story intitled How to Eat Fried Worms, in which the protagonist REALLY DOES eat fried worms. The CD comes with a book, which of course comes with a complete set of pictures of real kids eating real dangling worms. The kids love it but I, sometimes, litterally want to puke. No joke.

___ As an aside note, I just went to the washroom and thought I had another Roach encounter…but it turned out to be a hair clip on the floor. I’m just gonna take a moment to get my cardiac rhythm back to normal_________

Ok…What else. Oh. I’ve visited Seoul Tower, which is a 300 and some meters high tower sitting on top of a small mountain. You can walk around an observatory at the top and get an incredible view of the city. I had never realized just HOW big Seoul is until that moment. I also met some Frenchmen from Paris that night which made my weekend as I was able to speak a little bit of French and it was like a taste of home! (Although I did have to put on this phony Parisian accent so they would understand me… God I miss Canadian French.) And if someone says La Pepe La Pew to me one more time, I think I will have to seriously hurt them.

There. I’ve said it. Sue me.

On a lighter note (no, I am NOT bipolar) – I’ve bought a Korean Traditional Flute. I was actually wanting to buy a guitar but I was walking down Insadong Street and this monk was selling them. He turned out to be extremely personnable and he showed me how to play it right there on the street. He also said he would be giving classes in November and gave me the information to sign-up. So I’ve learnt to play the ukelele in Hawai, I took classical guitar lessons in Spain…and now I’ll learn to play a wooden transverse flute in Korea. I don’t know why I can’t just read a book…Well, at least my guitar-playing skills will still be acceptable in social circles!

What else, what else? I’ve spent my morning today finishing reading Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. A great read, if anyone is looking for a good book. Then I spent a few hours researching orphanages on the internet as I’ve heard they need volunteers here in Seoul. I thought I could maybe spare some time on the weekends but it turns out that…are you ready for it? - Volunteering would be illegal for me here in Korea under my current visa. HUH??? I would need permission from the immigration office AND would have to pay 60 000 Won. This, ladies and gentlemen, will require further serious pondering.

MAN! I just realized my feet were touching the ground. I really am gonna have to deal with this roaches situation. Haaaaaaauuuuuuummmmmmmmmpppppphhhhhh. To make myself feel tougher, I’ve asked other teachers to come mountain climbing with me on Sunday. There are a few mountains on the outskirts of Seoul that are accessible by subway. We chose a 10k hike one that should offer some amazing views. See! It’s NOT that I’m a girly-girl. I JUST DON’T LIKE ROACHES.

The end.