This time around there were no melt downs, no ‘Davidson’ moments, maybe because we had nothing to fight about.  It had been more than seven months since the last time I saw Mom and Dad, enough time for them to forget anything I did worth arguing about when I lived back in America.  It had been a while since I’d seen them, even though it felt like no time had passed when they climbed out of the cab in Korea, I was pretty damn excited.  Mom and Dad arrived to their fancy Westin Chosun Beach Hotel on a Thursday night.  They looked pretty wiped from the looooong flight but had the nice view of Haeundae beach to rest their eyes on from the hotel.  Dad went to bed shortly after getting settled and left Mom and I to catch up over tea and recent family pictures in the lobby. 

Mom and Dad’s first few days in Korea weren’t too eventful.  For their first meal we went to a ‘Kimbap Chongu’, the literal translation being ’Kimbap Heaven’.  Oh and that they are, I love these places as most foreigners do.  They serve all of your favorite Korean dishes at any time of day any day of the week.  They are the ‘Waffle House’ of South Korea without the cheap coffee and entertaining wait staff.  Instead they only serve water, or you serve yourself from a water cooler, and the wait staff are usually kind older Korean women, ajumas, that know how to cook up a good jigge or roll a decent kimbap.  We get to the only Kimbap Chongu I know of near their hotel, it isn’t the nicest one, in fact I went past the other day and it has been shut down…  You can never judge the food of a restaurant by it’s cleanliness, something I’ve gotten used to in Korea but I couldn’t say the same for Mom and Dad.  They took it like champs though, we ordered a variety of Korean food (spelling is a little off):

• Beep im bap- A bowl filled with rice, vegetables, red pepper sauce and topped with a fried egg
• Chamchi kim bap- Tuna, seaweed, rice and other vegetables rolled up, kinda like sushi but there is nothing raw
• Kimchi Jigge-  Stewed kimchi (fermented cabbage that is THE token of Korean cuisine), very hot (in temperature and spice), also served with rice
• Mandu- pork dumplings/pot stickers, pretty much the same as the Chinese ones
• Random sides-  fish cakes, pickled radish and different kinds of kimchi

Food is spicy here.  Usually if you were to order a very spicy dish in a restaurant they would give you a grave warning against it, assuming that foreigners will not be able to handle the heat.  This was one thing that Mom and Dad needed a bit more time to get used to.   That and the communal eating, everyone eats straight from the same dishes at most traditional restaurants.  They handled the entire experience with grace.

We spent the days wondering around the Haeundae beach area (the most popular/largest beach in South Korea), took a boat tour, went to a seaside temple where the taxi driver followed us around for half an hour, and took a tour of my apartment (it was a very short tour since it’s about the size of my bedroom back home). 

Dinner with some friends was a greater test of will in terms of odd food for Dad more than Mom.  After meeting a big group of my friends at Starbucks we hopped into taxis toward the other side of the hill to a seafood BBQ place.  Another restaurant not to be judged upon appearance (the plastic lawn furniture, gravel floor or tented roof).  It’s the tastiest, cheapest, best place in the whole world, that I’ve come across, for fresh seafood.  Here my parents met a great group of friends from Canada, America, Australia and Korea.  I gotta throw some names around, let me tell you about the great people I’ve met here.  First off there is Kathleen, who most of you know, is my good friend from University I ventured over to Korea with.  Of the other Americans joining us for dinner there was Travis who I’ve referred to before as “that handsome guy from California” (it’s true, handsome fella and a sense of humor to match) and Keith from Portland, Oregon who is a new friend but a good one.   From Canada there is Karen who is like Dot in that she is truly young at heart,  she’s pretty cool.  Haley and Matt are also two very good Canadian friends along with Greg, or “Red”, who we met at our weekly trivia nights.  Mark is our token Korean friend and he’s pretty amazing when it comes to helping us out with ordering food or communicating anything in Korean.  Jeff is from Australia, which, let’s face it, is just cool no matter what his personality is like, which thankfully is on par if not above that of his nationality.  Jeff brought along is friend Julie who, wait… American?, I hadn’t met before but was a nice addition to dinner.  Phew, hope that was everyone.  MOM AND DAD!  They were there too of course.  Mark was able to swiftly put our order in, shellfish, eel, soju and beer was brought out.  We cooked the seafood, dipped it in the sauce or wrapped it in the leaves and ate it.  Except for one.  One person didn’t try the eel.  Dad.  There was no forcing it.  I’m pretty sure it was the fact that the animal still squirms with placed on the hot grill that turned him off from it.  Check out his own account of this night and the whole trip in the man’s blog :

 http://randomthingstogether.blogspot.com/2009/04/south-korea-trip.html

The day after dinenr we took a train (first class, riding in style) up to Seoul to see the country’s capital.  We stayed in THE fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in, the hip W Hotel atop Walker Hill with stunning views of the Han River.  While it may have been a bit too young and hip for all of our tastes, with a very open bathroom it was luxurious.  We hit up the major sites, Insadong (shopping/artsy area), Korean War Memorial and Museum (uh… was that all we did?).  There were some fine dinners in Seoul and even better breakfasts, you should have seen the cereal bar and coffee that actually had a kick.

From Seoul we went on to Kyoto, Japan then to Fukuoka by train with a ferry taking us back, in only three hours, to Busan.  Here is a photo and video tour of our trip:

(UNDER CONSTRUCTION, COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!)

I’m writing this months later and have gained greater perspective on Mom and Dad’s visit.  There are a few things I wish we had seen/done:

-Subway- The people you see, smells you smell, and great sense of the homo-geneity of this country isn’t better experienced than on the subway.  It always entertains me.

-Icheon, Pottery Village- Unfortunately, with Mom’s hurt foot (turns out she had a broken bone  the whole time, you’re hardcore Mom) we weren’t able to venture out to the traditional pottery village near Seoul where celodon was first created and trade secrets were stolen from the Koreans long ago when Japanese kidnapped their best artists. 

-DMZ-  Just for a glimpse of N. Korea, if y’all saw it you wouldn’t be so worried about their recent threats.  It doesn’t look so menacing from up close, so I’ve heard.

-My coworkers- They are a great group of people, the foreigners and native teachers alike, wish you could have met them.

-Dinner on me- Mom and Dad treated me so well I wish I had been able to reciprocate in even the smallest way.  When I get back they should expect a Korean feast, light on the spice. 

So Mom and Dad, it was great to travel with you again.  It really meant a lot to have you come so far (one with a broken foot the other with an aversion to moving food) just to see me, thank you.  It was wonderful traveling with you, let’s do it again soon.  Love you, miss you, think of you and the rest of the folks back home constantly and I’ll see you soon!

He says, “You are not beautiful.” 

Oh, they went wild with laughter and everyone started chiming in excpet Lisa,  who walks in late to the excitement.  Danny asks her, “Lisa, do you think Brittany teacher is beautiful?”  Here I took Lisa’s silence for complete hatred of me and the class full of boys. She replies, “Yes.”

 

 

Life here in Korea is settled, not stagnant at any point, April has just been a lot calmer than March.  In early March Mom and Dad came for almost two weeks to put a visual to the life of their youngest daughter.  Hopefully it put their worries at ease to see the stable, happy life I have over here.  The highlights included dinner with some of my closest friends, Seoul, a week in Japan, and a morning at City Hall to meet my private English class with some of the top officials of the city.  However, their trip deserves an entire blog to itself, so this one will only be a brief recap of what else we’ve been doing here in Busan.

The other visitors we’ve had were Nadia and Lauren, two of Kathleen and I’s good friends from University (wait, I mean ‘college’, everyone calls it University here since college usually means a two year program in other countries).   While I haven’t known these ladies as long as Kathleen, their visit meant a lot.  There was so much comfort in talking about things back home and catching up with friends.  Even hearing ‘y’all’ flow from them so naturally was what I needed to recharge something in me I didn’t realize was running low.   While it made me miss everyone at home more it helped Kathleen and I out a hell of a lot to have them here.  Thanks ladies, everyone here misses y’all a great deal!

 

 

The live octapus and other sea creatures during Nadia and Lauren’s visit.

 

Nadia, Lauren and Kathleen feeling good after the still moving lunch. I'll spare you the nicknames of these two animals. They had us cracking up all through the market.

Other than the visitors and the threat of war from Mr. Kim Jung-il up North the new thing around town is the warmer weather.  A spontaneous urge to get out of the city took me up to Seoul last weekend.   Travis, that handsome guy from California, was good enough to splurge on a train ticket with me.  We didn’t do much but wonder around the city but it served as a hardy scratch to whatever itch it was that provoked the trip.  Travis made a good point as we over looked the East Sea while sipping on iced drinks this afternoon, “Busan is where Seoul comes for vacation, we don’t go up there”.   It’s true.  The beaches of Busan are bustling already.  Everyone is happier. Being almost 9 months in I realize that teaching, while it still has it’s good days, can be draining.  I believe all my friends are feeling the same way.  The weather has reminded us of the good life Busan has to offer in the summer. 

Finding our way around Seoul. It’s a hell of a lot bigger than Busan.

Expensive tea that didn’t even taste good. Thrilling.

 

Guy with a puppy.

A creek in Seoul. One highlight behind finally finding 'Jitterbug Perfume' at a booksote (Darien'll understand). From the train on the way back to Busan.

 Winter sucked.  I’m pretty happy that I’ll be getting out of here before another.  I’ll be outta hear come November, it was made official last week when I extended my contract to the end of October.   This way I’ll save up enough to travel the month of November then be back home just in time for the holidays.  As of now I’ll be home early December bring in the New Year then head off again.  Plans for next year are leaning towards a teaching job in Vietnam, where a few other friends are heading. 

If y’all are planning on traveling or have any suggestions please let me know!  I could use any travel/work/life advice. 

Also, I’ve changed the blog with Maciej’s suggestion, thanks cuz.  Could use some help with the title though.  It’s about magnolias which have always symbolized home for me. In traveling I’ve come to realize that the tree grows in many meaningful places I’ve spent time (The South, Italy, Korea…).  The point I’m trying to put across is that I have been pleased to find that they thrive everywhere.  It makes it an even more appealing reference to important people that I find in these places and in new ones.  Influential people and places I hope to record, on a regular basis now, in this blog.  All that in a few words.  Please, you creative types, help.

Love y’all, miss y’all.  Still not too sure which is greater.

Two hours later, after a rocky take off AND landing (while climbing up the stairs to board Alyssa tells us that Chinese pilots don’t have the best training). We split up into four groups, meet our Chinese tour guide, Mike, and hop on the buses (Bus D) to head to the first sight.

The next three days blend together. It was a packed trip, seeing all of the major sights, eating signature food in large restaurants that catered to big tour groups and shopping at touristy “factory” stores that had a small display of how they make ancient Chinese art (bastard version of what is a beautiful process) then escort you into the much larger room where they can make money off of you through souvenir shopping.

Overall, Beijing was a wonderful city. It was very clean, surprisingly. A lot of which had to do with the fact that the Olympics just came through shaping the city up for the whole world to see. The one thing I noticed was that the architecture was different from that in Korea, more Western or European. The food was much like Taiwan’s. We were served what everyone knows as Chinese dishes- dumplings, soup, noodles, rice, and Peking Duck (from Beijing, the city is also called Peking) were among them. We had fine weather, although freezing and everything was cheap. The best part though was that it was Chinese New Year, we brought in the Year of the Bull in China. You can’t imagine the fireworks; they surrounded us from the morning we arrived until 5 am the day we flew out.

A photo tour of Beijing:

Chinese ‘you-on’ or Mao Money

The Temple of Heaven
Jade Factory
Like Taiwan they are proud of their Jade in China (although they don’t repeat “It’s naycha” over and over until you buy something). I must say that after the Jade factory I had a much greater appreciation for the stone. Jade is worn because it has a healing power, it makes organs strong or holds some kind of ancient magic of the Orient. Jade bangles are worn on the left arms of women to be closer to the heart and the same goes for men and children who wear it as a pendant around their necks. There were some beautiful intricate pieces of sculpture that were of fine craftsmanship. The most appealing feature of Jade is that when in contact with the human body for a long period of time it will physically change colors, but it will only turn to a deeper green when it is worn. For some reason that little fact made me fall in love with the stone I always overlooked. I didn’t buy anything, I regret that now.

The Summer Palace

These are the people I hang with in Busan, Beijing, and wherever else we find ourselves in Asia. They are Haley, Kathleen, Alyssa, Karen and Matt and they’re pretty great.

She is carving ‘Ranew’ on this stamp, although it comes out as ‘Lanew’ in Chinese. This picture makes the market look calm. It was anything but, there were many designer rip off bags and those sales people where crazy. Seriously, mentally tweaked, trying to sell you anything in any way possible. Their favorite method? Force. It was scary.

The Pearl Factory

The Chinese Empress that lived in the Summer Palace was a conqubine at a young age in the Forbidden City. When she moved up in the line of royalty she discovered a love for cultivated fresh water pearls and revived/started/popularized the pearl market in Beijing. Every morning she would crush a pearl and rub the powder on her face. Ok, so I don’t know the nitty gritty of this gal’s life (or even her name) but the most intriging part of her story was in her death. She died at 74, they said her face looked 15 because of the pearl powder, she was burried with millions of pearls. Her people placed pearls in her coffin and the largest one, from Chiang Kai-shek’s wife, was placed in her mouth. I never really cared for pearls that much, like Jade, I love them now because of this story.

The Great Wall

Sometimes it felt like we were on a high school field trip, although better. Here is the ‘Bus D’ picture with The Great Wall as our backdrop. Take that Lameside.

Chinese Enamelware
This was my favorite ‘factory’ stop we made. The copper scraps lying everywhere reminded me of the work done over the summer with Bud, Deb and George. Sadly, this is a dieing art. Enamelware is an intriquite and time consuming, younger artists are just not interested in it.

Let’s hope that changes. Here she is gluing small peices on to the copper as the outline of the design.

The copper is saudered, then painted with enamel.

Check out those hot conqubines.
Tienemen Square

Chairman Mao is much larger and more ominous in person.
Chinese Acrobatics Show
How many limber Chinese women does it take to ride a bike? Probably just one but look how many they can fit! I think it was twelve. Again, well done with the photography Kathleen.
The Hot Pot

Kat’s picture (thanks girlfriend!) of our hot pot dinner. Everyone gets a boiling pot of broth that you put fresh meat, noodles and veggies into, much like Shabu Shabu.

The Bird’s Nest

We were only able to drive by it, it was much larger than I imagined. Not just a sports stadium, this is an astonishing work of modern art.

Mongolian dinner and a show

Another blog to come tomorrow, gotta catch up.

Happy Birthday Karlee and Frances!

This 22nd, the first of 2009, was one for the books. It started out like any other. I was rushing to work but still stop by for coffee anyway, the excuse being that it was the 22nd (at the risk of work not understanding). My classes were great, the new kids I have are mixed with a handful of older ones making the classroom dynamic comfortable and fun. One six year old is Jim, but I call him Jimbo (after that burly foundry professor with the rough voice and a mustache to match). I joke with them, they serve it right back to me in drawings, responses to “How are you?”, and rough English. I expressed my love of Obama, taught them the phrase, “Obama Mama,” even though it had no real merit in their English learning or lives in general, just cause it sounded funny. They are easy to please, a few rounds of “Eeny, meany, miney, mo” to decide who will read the part for role-playing shocks and awes them. After reciting the date I tell them about my favorite number, 22. We spend the next ten minutes talking about favorite numbers, great lesson.

From there the 22nd day of the year took me to the thrift store. Lisa introduced me to a great thrift store run by the Catholic Group Home right around the corner from our apartments. There I bought some cheap frames needed for the blank walls of my apartment. I then took the alternative route home in search of white spray paint. Didn’t find it, where is a Wal-Mart when you need one? Well, there is one in Seoul (seriously, there is). No luck with the spray paint but I head home to ready myself for some live music in PNU, a university part of town with an open mic night, a good open mic, every Thursday. The music was good, the crowd tamer than usual. However, like every 22nd it wasn’t quite ready to end at midnight. Therefore we go on to explore what the early hours of the 23rd have to offer.

What did we find? Unsuccessful at first we only find a salsa lounge called the Che bar, lights were off, it was closed. It was then that we cross the street where we came across this tiny place that looked straight out of Switzerland. We peak in the windows, it was a quaint little Alpine nook with three Korean men. Karen braves the door, it was open. She disappears, I wait on the street. She reappears to invite me in. The owners are welcoming. But they are so much more than that. Upon entering our world is transformed to a place that makes little sense being in Busan. We find ourselves with a yodeling champion (and owner, Mr. E, pronounced ‘mystery’), a classically trained Italian opera singer, and some random Korean man that was their friend. We exchange pleasantries with all three Korean born men then the show begins.

With some prodding Mr. E first beings to play the guitar, on which he strums an American country song. He is good. More surface conversation is exchanged when the man in the glasses says he speaks Italian. It was then that I learned that I lost most, if not all, of the language that I had studied over the past three years. Damn shame, who would of known it would prove useful in Korea?

When I say this place was out of place it seemed so because every thing in the tiny little restaurant/bar/music hole did not scream Korea. It is hard to be in a restaurant (no matter what they serve), movie theater, even the middle of the woods and forget where you are. In this small place there were no signs aside from the faces of the three men sitting around us and the cheap beer we drank. The restaurant was about the size of my apartment, small. Only three tables, two of which for costumers the third covered in instruments. The rest of the floor space was filled with a heater and various upright stringed instruments. The left wall covered, from floor to ceiling with a mural of the Alps on the left wall. The back wall a bookshelf filled with hundreds of records and following the cow bells to the right wall which displayed traditional laderhosen and the feminine equivalent hanging in dry cleaning bags. Just to the right of these was a picture of our man Mr. E playing an accordion in that there lederhosen to the left. Below the picture, sitting on the third table, the same accordion.

We ask him to play. He picks it up, HOHGEN is written in all caps close to where he puts his right hand. Near his left, ATLANTA. The number 22 was speaking to me through this German accordion named Atlanta. But, WHAT DOES IT MEAN? He finishes one song then goes to the next. Singing in English then Korean. He plays folk/country/bluegrass songs on a beautiful mandolin (‘Amazing Grace’ being one of them), banjo and the Swiss horn. It comes in three parts, this Swiss horn. I’m still not sure of the correct name, while Mr. E’s yodeling was of champion level but his English pronunciation was rough, much less his Swiss French.

However, he worked that horn like he was a Swiss, it was as if the little place stuck in Busan, South Korea was really Bern. As if the mural to the left of us sprang to life. As if this little Korean man was playing on the Alps.

The classically trained Italian Opera singer, who studied in Rome and now teaches in Busan, was up next. Mr. E had a calming voice, like a soothing folk song. I wasn’t sure what to really expect from the Italian Korean man. He seemed so unassuming in his baseball cap and horn rimmed glasses, until he began. The force and strength of him voice seemed enough to blow the little Helen-esque hole out of the wall. It was beautiful, he was extremely talented. After hearing a few more songs and giving apologies for not being able to show off any singing talent we walk out the door. We’re back on a quiet street in PNU, find taxis (and a fantastic mirror someone was throwing away!) and head home.

There are not many experiences that have made me forget every other thought. Usually I am always, constantly, preoccupied with something else on my mind. However tonight, when the 22nd became the 23rd, I experienced just that. The culmination of my life, references from major parts, wrapped up in strangers stumbled upon in a Swiss bar in Korea. Folk songs reminded me of home, the atmosphere of the bar was like being back in Bern, the Italian felt just as familiar and all of these were manifested in a small place with the people of Korea. Here I was sitting with a Korean man, communicating in Italian next to another Korean man that spoke fluent folk and instrument across form my Canadian friend. It was a good night.

We’ll see what China has to offer, I leave tomorrow.

I still flush the toilet paper.

I’m sorry, but the knowledge of using the restroom next to a trashcan filled with other people’s used tp keeps me from adding to the pile. Perhaps someday my Karma will block up and flood my apartment (so it goes with my friend Karen). For now I will continue to flush it out of sight.

I get better pay, hours and treatment than my Korean coworkers.

Today I got a free pair of brand spanking new Nike’s from Mr. Go, the owner of our school, for Lunar New Year. Apparently he has quite the hook up. While showing off our shoes in the teacher’s office our boss shyly tells Lisa and I to keep it down, “Not everyone got them”. Oops, didn’t realize that only the foreign teachers got a pair… Lisa and I immediately shut up, sliding the packages as far from sight as possible. It’s true though, there is a significant difference in treatment of Korean and Western teachers at work. We work at least two hours less a day (although this used to be much larger), we get paid higher salaries on top of getting a furnished apartment and rent. To top it all off we never get reprimanded.

I never write in my blog.

An apology more so for my friends and family that still keep up with this thing. I have no excuse, I suck. Another apology for those of you back home, your Christmas packages are still sitting in my closet. Expect them by late February, maybe.

I don’t like the rice cakes.

This is only OK because I do enjoy just about all other types of Korean food. Not the rice cakes though, I can’t fully grasp how or why they are that consistency.

I pull the “Mull eye oh” card many times a day.

Translation: “I dunno”. Strapped for cash at the end of last month I returned the CD player bought on impulse at Mega Mart before Christmas. It was when my computer was busted and I had an irresistible urge to listen to festive music, knowing that I only had so much longer to enjoy it before the season was up. After shopping around (two stores) I ended up spending over $60 on the cheapest one I could find. Fixing my computer a few weeks later left it useless until I found the receipt. It had been past the date of return (visible on the receipt in English). I pulled the foreigner card and got my money back, the manager in perfect English saying, “We can make some exceptions.” “Kumsamida,” I reply with a smile. The worst part was that not only did they give me cash for my full purchase but they even gave me the 50 won refund for the plastic bag I returned with the boom box (if you don’t have a shopping bag of your own they give you one for a small fee). Ouch, that kind of hurt.

I’m sorry it went down in flames.

Starface, the bar and home to our Sunday night trivia tradition caught fire last time we were there. Yes, we witnessed the whole thing. Being in the building, flames licking the front entrance, escaping, firemen came, fire was gone. The worst part was watching the reaction of the Korean and Western patrons. This place had a nice neighborhood ‘Cheers’ kind of vibe, with regulars from all backgrounds. I only hope it can be revived, however, I’m sorry to report rumors I’ve heard that it may become just another Korean Restaurant since the damages exceed $50,000 sans insurance. Then again they may just be rumors.

Korean firemen just don’t do it for me.

I once said that it didn’t matter what they looked like as long as they were wearing the uniform. However, I realized that wasn’t true when I was watching the fire instead of the men in yellow and black. They didn’t quite fit the image I have. While I hope to never be in a situation where firemen are needed again, if there is a next time I hope the rescue takes place back in the states. Preferably New York.

Along with my apologies I have many things to thank you for Korea. I celebrate my 6 month anniversary with you next Saturday. While I had a rough idea of what my intentions were for moving here back in July I was mostly blind to the experience I would have. My Grandma, who lived in Daegu in the 80′s gave me the two little tidbits of knowledge to travel with.
1. You never know what to do with your legs when you sit on the floor at a restaurant.
And 2. Korean people are extremely nice.
Both of which have been proven true upon countless occasions. The past months have provided more than just affirmation of her wisdom. Including the interesting and meaningful people I now call friends and a decent collection of stray buttons, I’ve also checked a few things off my list and added to it accordingly. Let’s hope the next six months will be as unpredictable and satisfying as the last.

P.S. Today I taught your children the “magic word” and a few days back I named one of them Elvis, thank me later.

Alright, so the sound is bad like the last video. I’ll still keep it up, just be warned.

Merry Christmas! Seeing that this was the second Christmas I have spent in Asia I had some idea of what to expect. The first one being in 2001 when my family went to visit my sister Dot who was teaching in Taipei, Taiwan. I honestly do not remember a lot about the Christmas traditions there other than the commercial side. The only real evidence of the holiday I noticed in Taipei were decorations in all of the stores and pointsettas, but they grow native. I also remember Dot’s tree. A four foot tall painting hanging on the wall decorated by her students. While my dream to find a real tree did not come true, no Big Jon’s here, I did get this one for 2,000 at the local dollar store. It’s about two feet tall with homemade decorations. Although small it brightened up the place along with presents, a picture of Aimee’s girls, Nadia’s card, candles and a beautiful candle holder made by my Mom. I opened a few presents every night leading up to the big day since I couldn’t hold out. Although I saved the ones I was most excited about, along with the cards, for Christmas morning (“It’s not Hanukkah, you aren’t Jewish,” Aim’s reply to this). Thank you so much for the gifts, you really out did yourselves.

In Korea, much like Taiwan, Christmas is very commercialized. If I judge by what I hear from my kids the whole Jesus part of the holiday is lost to presents, decorations and fancy cakes. The conversation that led me to believe this took place last Tuesday in my third class, the bad one, when we were playing a game made up on the fly to take up time. The class was split into two teams, red and blue, I asked them questions manipulating the points to even out the scores/let the kids I like better win. The last question was a bonus Christmas one worth two points, this win could turn the whole game around, the red team in the lead with one point.

Sadly, many of my students will be moving up a level and I will get a whole new batch on Monday. I have really grown attached to them since most I’ve had from the time I started working and I see them every day. We’ll see what characters I meet this time around.

It is Boxing Day today, not a usual day off like Christmas was but luckily I work for an amazing company and they gave all their branches the day off. Unlike my friends I get to lounge on this Friday while they are stuck at work. Last night was our big Christmas party at a swanky high rise on the beach. Kathleen, Karen (one of our best friends here, she is Canadian, has been here for 4 months, has a scooter named Dixie, is a co founding member of Club Tuesday Party, a great person and a lot of fun) and I were throwing this thing so we arrive at 2 pm on Christmas Day to get it started. We pay for the room, get the key, haul our bags up to the 15th floor and walk in. There was a solid 5 minutes of all three of us screaming, running from room to room, jumping on the one bed as we took in the amazingness that was Room 1502. While we had seen the layout of the condo before we didn’t know what type of view we would have. But right there, 15 stories down was Haeundae Beach (and Dixie, you could seen Karen’s scooter parked on the sidewalk). It was a perfect view, better than we expected. People were to arrive at three so we start to unpack our suitcases. I brought the same amount of luggage to the condo for one night as I brought to South Korea. The same bag anyway, this time it was filled with groceries, pots, pans, a coffee maker and my small Charlie Brown tree.

People begin to arrive, we cook, decorate with music in the background and Christmas movies on the HUGE flat screen. Like home on holidays the traffic was terrible and the super market packed. Running an errand with my friend Travis, an American from the West coast, was more like a slow crawl in the taxi to end up dodging wild carts and people in the store just to pick up water, cause remember you can’t drink from the tap, and drinks for the party. FYI- you can’t buy ice, it just won’t happen.

Getting back from errands we find that the turkey has not arrived yet. I call Mr. Kim at the Seamen’s (heh) Club to find out that the bird is en route. The other day I made my way to the other side of town behind the train station (literally the other side of the tracks) on Pier 3 of the major port in Busan to the Seamen’s Club. I have heard of this place from friends that have eaten here for different holidays, but it was my first time in the place. It screams tacky American restaurant, straight out of Ellijay, Georgia. They serve American food all year round but specialize in holiday meals for Westerners and Koreans alike. I pay Mr. Kim the won equivalent of $90 (the whole menu is in dollars, not sure why) which comes to 126,000 won (the won has dropped drastically since I arrived). I proof read the address he wrote down, with date, time and my named spelled with two p’s. The turkey is to be delivered to the Palé de CZ at 5 pm on Christmas Day to Brippany via taxi. Let’s hope the taxi driver doesn’t get hungry on the way.

A while after talking to Mr.Kim I get a call from the taxi driver, he doesn’t speak much English. Just enough to say he was here and he was, “A Korean guy”. Duh, we assumed that he would also be, get this, in a taxi. Sunel, my South African friend that lives in the apartment building next door to me, comes with to find this Korean man and our turkey. On the elevator down she explains to me that there are no Z’s in the Korean language, she is making a much stronger attempt to learn Korean than I ever will be capable of. That’s why I keep her around, that and the fact that she used to work in a park with elephants, lions and other African things I’ve only seen in zoos. She’s pretty cool.

We find him, he pops the trunk, we trade cab fare for food, wish him a Merry Christmas and take the turkey back up to the room. We peal back the tin foil to the most beautiful turkey I have ever seen. It was at least 18 pounds and tasted as good as it looked complete with stuffing. The rest of the night was spent eating, drinking, playing games, oh-ing and ah-ing over how fancy the place was with friends filtering in from different obligations all over the city. It was a great group of people, everyone chipped in to pay us for the room and helped with food. If I spend another Christmas away from home I hope I am surrounded with people of the same quality as those I was with last night. It truly was one of my best nights in Busan.

It wouldn’t be Christmas without talking to the family. I am so happy I was able to talk to everyone at midnight to be there, in some sense, when you opened your package from Korea. I hope you enjoyed everything. Dad, did you really try the silkworms? Gag. I send my love to everyone back home that I have not talked to. I hope this Christmas finds you well.

It was around 5 am when the last party guests left. Kathleen and Karen went to sleep before me, claiming the one bed and leaving me to the couch or a bed pad on the floor. I opted for the floor. It really was comfortable. The morning was spent with the three of us cleaning up, finding random gifts and things people left behind, making breakfast out of what was left of the food, milking our last few hours in our fancy apartment and talking about how lucky we were to have found such great people for friends in Korea. Though sappy it couldn’t be more true. Pictures of those people, the Palé and the party to follow.

Jordan carving the turkey.

The view the next morning.

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This is the building from the outside taken during our ferry ride last week.

My bed.

I will be adding to this photographic record (stolen from Club Tuesday Partiers) of our morning and soon there will be a video of the crazy seagulls that entertained us the whole ride. We even saw some sea life!

The seagulls were very brave. We figured out by the end of the ride that they would even eat off our hats. Thankfully everyone got out of there clean. Honestly, I think it was scarier for me than the bird.

The Korean couple that was nice enough to tell us to buy food to throw to the birds. He is holding out a shrimp flavored chip for them to grab from his hand. Let’s hope bird flu isn’t a concern in Asia any longer…

Great picture Jordan! Not sure how these fishermen got there but it looks as though they’ll be there all day. This is one of the small rocky islands, or islets, the ferry took us around.

This obviously wasn’t Tuesday morning. Rather, this was Sunday evening. It was a nice day spent wondering Busan with my friend Jason. We found a comic book convention with hundreds of Korean teenagers dressed in ridiculous costumes and then we found this:

For instance just today I was riding bus #22 when a Korean woman said I was beautiful. I find it hard to respond to this. If I say she is beautiful she’ll think I am just saying it to be nice. With the limited English vocabulary I’m assuming she has I can’t go into my love for her country and culture because of simple encounters like this one I’m having with her ’cause her stop is next. Instead I say, “Thank you, anyang he kassayo,” my version of good bye in Korean with a thick Waygook accent. It’s these simple conversations, when Korean people engage me in conversation or offer me help, that wakes me up out of my routine and makes me realize where I am.

There was another wake up call about two months ago. This time I was walking to work for the very first time. The weather was bearable as the hot days cooled down making the fourty-five minute walk possible. Along the main road there are shops, restaurants (one of which serves dog), a small trash heap, thrift stores, trees and a steady flow of people. On days I’m not in a rush and need a walk I opt for this way of getting to work.

October 15th was my first day of walking as well as the first time I saw evidence of the true divide between South and North Korea. My students don’t say they’re from South Korea when I ask, they say Korea. They aren’t South Korean, they are Korean. On postage, it isn’t South Korea, it is The Republic of Korea. I was beginning to assume, that while they do have differences and they are seperate countries, citizens think of it as one big Korea. That was until the first day I walked to work.

When my walk began I thought I heard sirens (like the ones they turn on for a tornado) in the distant. It was a clear day and as far as I know they don’t even have tornadoes in Korea, so I ignore them and put on my ipod. I pick up my pace about half way to not be late. But as I pick up my pace all other traffic slows down gradually until all vehicles come to a hault. The cars, buses, even scooters (that abide by no rules) have some reason to stop even though the lights are green. I knew something big was up then because the drivers are crazy here. They run red lights, swerve into on coming traffic, don’t wear seat belts and don’t have car seats for young children. Seeing them at a dead stop was weird since they are constantly on the go. Soon enough I get to a cross walk where even foot traffic has been stopped by a little man with a sash in Korean (which I guessed was stating his authority) drapped across his chest. A van is broadcasting some sort of announcement from a loud speaker behind him. I kept trying to sneak past the sashed man but he was a quick fella with a strong will that kept men, women, children and even clueless foreigners from keeping to their steady pace. Deciding I should at least pretend to know what’s going on I take off my ear phones, furrow my brow and listen intently to the serious Korean coming from the van. I wait with the rest of the crowd until the loud speaker is quiet, the sirens stop and traffic resumes as if nothing happened. I went all day confused about what happened. Later that night my friend Liz, another American, told me that her walk to work was also inturrupted by a similar situation. Others experienced the same thing. It seems that all of Busan, perhaps all of South Korea, paused to listen to this broadcasting. But why?

Turns out that North and South Korea are not as united as I assumed. Yes, they are in fact still at war. No, they are not friends. Liz filled me in that this was a drill, a drill in case North Korean was to attack. They were not tornado sirens as my simple Georgian mind thought, they were war sirens. Maybe it’s time for me to learn a bit more Korean so I know what to do the next time I hear them…