[Oh yeah. I went to Jeju. LAST YEAR.]

I've been meaning to write up our Jeju Christmas Trip,well, since Christmas. I blogged a bit about Seogwipo, an adorable art-inspired town in southern Jejudo over at ZenKimchi, while simultaneously raging about Magic Tea. But I have this picture. This picture must be shared with the world. Hopefully, someday, I will share the other amazing photos Kenny and I took while we were there. But this one, it deserves to find its home on the Internet. Here you go, Internet:

Isn't the resemblance simply striking? This is one of the many statues found all over Jeju Island. They are called dol hareubang (  돌 하르방  ), dol meaning "stone" and hareubang being a Jeju dialect of "grandfather." They're basically thought to be gods offering protection and, some say, fertility. They are guardians.

I'm not sure what we're guarding here, but we're definitely happy about it. Also, I have to get a new coat. This one is just not flattering. I mean, it makes me look like a hareubang. And when was the last time you heard anyone giving a hareubang a compliment on his lovely figure, eh?

Workout, K-Pop Music Video Style

So, the all-time sweetest and strawberriest blogger ever, Kerri from Your Wishcake, started this great thing (or terrible thing, depending on my own determination and staying power) called Work It Out Weekends. And I thought it was a grand idea, to tell you how fantastically I fail each week at becoming small enough to wear "free size" in Korea, or to having an S-line. (I am currently sporting the B-line. It's a Boobs and Belly shape.)

And God bless Korea because I showed an enormous amount of initiative and joined the gym this week. I joined with two Korean girlfriends on Wednesday and signed up for the Aerobics class at 10:40 am. It's offered everyday, but I think for now I'll stick with Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes. But I am a bit addicted to it and found myself wondering out loud whether they had a class on Saturdays when I got up this morning. And Kenny knew something was up. Because all of the sudden on my day off, the day of doing nothing, the day of taking three hour naps after only four hours of being awake, the day of eating however many corn dogs I can handle- on this day, I consider going to the gym.

I mean, I didn't. But this is definitely a step in the right direction, y'all. I mentioned that last week I lost a kilo. (That's about 2 pounds for the Stateside folks. And see, the great things about kilos is that I count the amount of weight I need to lose in kilos because the number is smaller. But when I actually lose the weight, I count it in pounds because it pretty much doubles. It's a beautiful system of motivation, or self-deception, whichever.) I can drop weight pretty fast if I just discipline myself enough not to eat after 6 pm. Which, when you work from 1-9 everyday becomes quite the task because oh my god you have to think about what you're going to eat and actually make plans and cook ahead of time and then remember to take it with you to work. But this week, I let it slip a little because good grief I went to the gym twice! And this aerobics class is a full hour of jumping, popping, kicking, grape-vining, shaking, and more jumping.

If I could video tape me in this class, y'all, not only would I record it, I would post it on the Internet for the world to see. And then I would be all famous. People would call me The Aerobics Girl, and then I would get all these invites to talk shows and I would get to teach Ellen how to do aerobics Korean style and maybe finally meet G-Dragon. Because this aerobics is not like any aerobics you have ever seen. Unless you have seen this, on speed:

Because the aerobics instructor is hotter than these girls, I get insanely jealous during class. And there is a lot of standing still in this video. But in class, there is NO standing still. And they have a stereo with one of those knobs you turn to make it faster and faster, but without everything sounding like the chipmunks. So, speed this song up about 7 or 8 times faster than it is, imagine me trying to do this, but with all sorts of hops, jumps, knee raises, swivel hips, and cute little hand motions in all the places where these girls are standing still. I am not kidding when I say it is Korean music video class. Because this Friday, I learned this signature move from the Brown Eyed Girls:



This is not the Brown Eyed Girls. Because in their video, they do a lot of standing around and writhing on the ground. Which is actually not part of my aerobics class. although I do consider lying down in class sometimes. This is the Brown Eyed Girls video everyone is familiar with in Korea. But the move where they cross their arms and shake their hips back and forth, yeah baby. I got that one down. Because after that part, I'm completely lost. All the way. It's like my nightmares have become reality. When I was in high school (and even now sometimes) I would dream that I am at a dance recital. And I should know all the steps. But I don't. It's the most horrible feeling in the world. I can deal with the dreams where I almost die, where people are chasing me and trying to kill me, where Strawberry Shortcake leaves me in the forest to be eaten by a giant. But this whole being on stage and flailing around trying to keep up with everyone and drawing an absolute blank when it comes to the steps: that I cannot handle and wake up sweating with that awful feeling still in the pit of my stomach.

So yeah, Korean aerobics class is kind of like that. Because although I have rhythm, danced for 16 years, and still routinely perform in the kitchen while washing the dishes or cleaning the house, I cannot keep up with these ladies. So, I get a lot more rest than everyone else because I kind of do the whole  throw your hands in the air when everyone else does and try to figure out which direction they're moving in next. I've figured out one routine, but not entirely. It is hilarious. I do not even have enough shame to stand at the back! I stand right next to my friend, boldly showcasing my inability to perform 2NE1's latest moves and cutesy steps. This is another song we dance to, only some manic and fiercely fast version:



But I sweat. And I actually do have fun. Although I have come to loathe the fifty year old woman who centers herself in the front row and does everything with this look on her face like she's the instructor, even though her transitions are laughable and her movements often lack conviction. As in, what is that move supposed to be? Ohhhhh. She's trying to do the one where you contract your stomach while you pull your shoulders and hips forward and then arch your back, showcasing your boobs while throwing your arms and hips back quickly. But instead of contracting her stomach and arching her back in turn, she's just bending her knees. It's awesome.

So, to recap, I am going to aerobics class and trying to learn all these dances/aerobics combos that everyone else already knows! But, I did find out that they learn a new routine every other Wednesday and practice for two weeks. So, next Wednesday here I come! Because I will be on the same level as everyone else. For one routine. And the rest, I'll still be the girl turning three counts late, not knowing the 2NE1 hand signals to throw, or how to roll my butt in the right direction at the right time on the right count and pull my knee up to my boobs at the same time. Ah well, it's exercise, right?

What are you guys doing to Work It Out?

Why Stereotypes Work. Sometimes.

In my adult class last night, we were discussing things we hate. The conversation was based upon learning to express dislikes. We practiced talking about things we "don't like," things "that really bug me," things that "make me mad," and things that "piss me off."

Discussion Question: What does your mother do that drives you crazy?

Female Student 1: "My mom sometimes says to me, "Why don't you just consider a blind date?" That really drives me crazy.

Female Student 2: "Sometimes my mom cleans my room and it drives me crazy!"

Female Student 3: "My mother always acts like she likes my sister more whenever she visits. It drives me crazy when she does that. "

Male Student: "My mom always makes me feel better, so I don't understand this question."

And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

Redeeming Myself, Maybe

So, yesterday I posted probably the worst video possible for those of you outside of Korea because now all you've been exposed to is the current strangeness that is the K-Pop scene. Of course, G-Dragon is still a hot little muffin and maybe you might think so if you saw him in one of his other videos, with his band called Big Bang. Here's one of the songs that I can actually listen to while I watch the video of his perfect teeth. So what if the man wears headbands and ponytails?

But anyway, I wanted to give you a little taste of what we're listening to in our house. My taste is mainly informed by Kenny's preferences, obviously. But I like this music. I've decided to give a short video playlist for your listening pleasure. You can thank me in the comments.

First up, here's Lucid Fall. He is my favorite Korean artist and I love ALL his songs. Every single one. If I had to pick a Korean artist to listen to for the rest of my life and I could only pick one, it'd be this guy.



Okay, and this is simply the happiest song in the history of happy songs. No matter what it makes me smile and dance. I like Kim Jong Kook (김종국) in this video because he's not being all manly and obsessed with working out. So, turn up the volume and do a happy dance!




This is from a band called Rollercoaster (롤러코스터)and this is their song Last Scene. They're kind of old school, but I enjoy it.




For another seriously happy song, here's Humming Urban Stereo with Hawaiian Couple. The video is quite cheesy, and so is the song from what I can gather. But I like it anyway. In the beginning of the video, the guy is saying, "I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, but please forgive me." And later, the announcement in the train station says something along the lines of, "The love is train is coming. So hug each other." Listen to this song and go hug somebody!


Last of all, this is a freaking awesome song you should go listen to. The embedding has been disabled, but click on this link and go listen. It's incredible. Seriously, start your day with this. Or end it with this. Or split it in two with this. It's by Jeon Ja Yang (전자양). It's perfection.

So, that's kind of what's going on in our house, Korean music wise. Besides all the G-Dragon YouTubing that's going on. Hope you enjoyed this foray into Korean music. I find that even if you can't understand the words, you can always hear the feelings. I can pick out certain phrases and words, but I often just enjoy the sound. My Korean classes begin tomorrow though! The free ones I get through my freaking awesome school. So, maybe I'll be able to sing all of these at the noraebang the next time we go! (Noraebang is karaoke in Korea. It literally means song room. And you go into your own room with your friends and have drinks and snacks and sing your heart out.)

On a P.S. sort of note: I was observed by my principal for the first time today. And basically all I did was the exact same thing I always do. Except, um, I ignored the fact that she was there. I feel like it went pretty well. The kids were great. They didn't freeze up or act any different. Perhaps they participated with a little bit more enthusiasm than usual, but hey, it could only help, right? Still loving my job. Wonder when the new will wear off?

Really?

Dear Currently Married with all Hopes and Dreams Satisfied Self,

What the crap? Yeah, so it's not Wednesday, but what the crap anyway. Use your brain sometimes. G-Dragon has dyed his hair blonde. It looks terrible. Puh-lease! His name is G-Dragon for crying out loud. Try to say that all sexily and like you're about to kiss him or something. Oh, G-Dragon, I love you. Nope. Doesn't work. Reminiscent of When Harry Met Sally's Harry saying, "Sheldon? You had great sex with Sheldon? No, I don't think so. Ride me big...Sheldon?" Negative on the Sheldon and the G-Dragon. During his Heartbreaker video, he reminds you of a woman most of the time. At the end, you thought maybe he had on a bra underneath his lacy jacket.

BUT, on the other hand Self, you did see him on a late night documentary about popular music and what makes it work and tick and why everybody loves it. And he seemed like a normal person with strangely attractive hands that moved a lot while he talked about how everything he presents to the public is basically programmed and planned from A to Z. And perhaps you were wrong to think that your amazing husband, who in your eyes, IS hotter than Rain(비), would make it impossible for you to ever fully indulge in another Johnny Depp Movie, well because you have your own personal Johnny Depp, who is every bit as much of a Don Juan as Don Juan in Don Juan. Because when you got married, you didn't scratch your eyes out, did you? And as we all know, Koreans have a certain sexy factor when it comes to you.

Honestly, G-Dragon though? You're finding yourself attracted to G-Dragon? Of all the Korean celebrities out there walking around without wearing form-fitting pants and sighing like women, you picked him? Really, you ought to be ashamed of yourSelf. But there's something to it, isn't there? Because he's popular. And he knows how to make dat money honey. And if someone who had reeled in billions of won on my image last year tells me to dye my hair blonde and kick up the feminine act a bit, I'd do it.

Although I don't really go for the music. Because apparently it sounds just like a bunch of other stuff. I go for the G-Dragon. There. I said it. Oh Self, stop being such a snob. If you like him, you like him. You're weird. And you're obviously sleep-deprived and all that. But still, just suck it up and like who you like. And don't be sorry about it. Because that makes you a wussy. And it's worse to be a sniveling wussy with no taste than a ChubbO with weird, but decisive taste.

But really. Get yourself together.

I'll be praying for you.

Love,

YourSelf.

Bridezilla? I Think Not

Korean weddings are different from Western weddings. 

My wedding is different from Korean weddings and Western weddings. 

When Kenny and I first started talking about what we wanted in terms of our wedding, we both agreed we wanted something small and intimate, something that would be meaningful for both of us and our families. We wanted to avoid all the "look and see" chaos that tends to be ever-present at Korean weddings (at least the ones I had attended.) We desired to celebrate our marriage with people who knew us and truly cared about us and wanted us to succeed at loving each other well. At the same time, it was also our desire to respect Kenny's parents and his Korean culture. And so, his dad being the pastor of a church and a respected leader in the community, we are expecting around 400 guests. I have made my peace with this. 

photo here

When Kenny and I first started talking about what we wanted in terms of our wedding, we agreed that we wanted something casual. Both of us are simple and our wish is to live humbly together, not acquiring things or money, but investing in each other and the communities we're a part of. We wanted to keep things easy and simple. We wanted to bypass the traditional buffet dinner for all the guests and have the ceremony in his church so that the people who attended did not come with empty bellies, but with full hearts. However, we also wanted to respect the church community that has supported Kenny and his family and not to disappoint them or to offend them by taking away something that was expected at every wedding, despite who it was being wed or how different the couple might be. Also, his parents would not hear of it. And so, we have rented the third floor of one of the tackiest buffet/wedding halls for the dinner after the ceremony. I have made my peace with this. 

When we began to discuss how we wanted the sanctuary to be decorated, we both wanted the focus to be on the lighting. We had a vision of clean, modest lines, and neither one of us cared much about flowers. Personally, I don't want flowers at my wedding. Because they cost money and sure they look nice, but I'm not a flowery person and it just doesn't concern me. I can barely even manage a shrug over it. So, we opted for no flowers. However, there was some opposition to this because "they" always have flowers. "Usually" there are flowers. And a very kind and generous member of the congregation desperately wanted us to have flowers and wanted to provide them. And so, I compromised and after a few deep breaths requested white and green flowers if I had to have them. I made my peace with the flowers. And then, seeing as it is a wedding, the kind and generous member of the congregation seemed to believe she could not produce any kind of "bridal" arrangement. And so, there will be no flowers. I have made my peace with this, again. 

When we decided to have our wedding in Korea instead of the States, we sacrificed many things. Number one, I myself sacrificed the right to stomp my foot and use sentences like, "It's my wedding." Because in Korea it's not your wedding. It's the community's wedding, it's your guests' wedding. I find that this idea goes against everything that has been planted inside of my head pertaining to weddings and a bride's wishes. But I also see the beauty in it. At Korean weddings, the guests all bring an envelope with cash in it. I've mentioned this before. And when they give this envelope to the right person, they receive a "meal ticket" that gets them into the free buffet provided after (sometimes during) the ceremony. And it's true that many guests bring their envelopes, hand them over, grab their meal tickets, skip the ceremony all together and go get their eat on. At first, I was horribly offended by this. Why come at all if you're not going to witness the marriage? And it was easy for me to chalk this up to just another way that Koreans preserve their proverbial "face." 

But when I began to consider this and talk it over with Kenny, I saw it in a different way. I saw that every time someone goes to a wedding, they are making an investment in their community. They are literally investing money in the future of this couple's family (usually the money goes to the parents). And in doing so, they are securing a bit of their own future because when their sons and daughters get married, all the family weddings they attended will pay off. Those families will bring their own envelopes. It's a big circle. And I think it's a nice way to support each other. And if there are people who simply drop their cash to be noticed and then go eat their dinner and leave, why would I want them to be at my ceremony anyway??? I have made my peace with the fact that some people will simply come to "see" what our wedding looks like, and some will come to support us and to invest in our future. 

I have given up the right to claim this wedding as mine. It is our wedding, in the biggest sense of the word. Actually, considering all the work and planning he's put into it, we should call it The HubbO's wedding. He's taken care of so many of the things that the bride would normally do, but because of the language barrier have been shoved off of my list onto his. He has also taken on the responsibility for things that we have decided to add to our ceremony to make it special not just for us but for everyone there, such as subtitling our vows, our video, making our invitations bilingual (not to mention designing the entire thing!), and so many more things that go on behind the scenes. 

However, there are two things that are still mine. They are the only two real responsibilities I have. One is my dress. Check. The other is my hair. And thanks to my good friend Angie, also Check! We did a trial run last night and it was perfect. Even better than I thought it would be. I was so pleasantly surprised and after I went home, I pranced around my apartment cleaning and packing things like I was a movie star with her very own soundtracked life. 

Perhaps the reason for the Wedding Hair Rage was that it was one of only two things I had any control over. And the stylist rendered me completely powerless as he imposed his own vision of what a wedding hairstyle should look like, instead of what I wanted. And let's be honest, how many days out of the year do I care what I look like? I have not washed my hair since Monday, people. (I really have no shame. Sorry, Mom.) I wasn't lying about the 7 minute max morning bathroom time. But I do care what I look like on this day. Because it is going to be a good day. A great day, even. And I want to look and feel great. 

I am not Bridezilla, anyway. I imagine Bridezilla to be the bride who does not compromise on anything, who does not care to respect the wishes of her husband or his culture, but only wants to create that fairy tale day she's been nursing since she was 7. Bridezilla, instead of thanking the stylist for making her hair "too pretty," freaks out in the salon, yells like a crazy foreigner and makes him take it all out and do it again. Bridezilla does not make peace with this. 

I have come to the conclusion that I am not Bridezilla. 

Oh no. I am Bridechilla, baby. (Somebody call Websters. For real this time.) I have made peace that my wedding is not everything I wanted it to be, but that it will still be meaningful to me and my husband. It might not be the exact style we wished for, but it will please his parents who are so gracious and kind to this girl who struggles to understand this culture. Now, I'm not saying that I haven't cried, railed, and pitched many a fit. Oh, I have done this. But I have done this in private, behind my doors, perhaps in the presence of my husband. And I have gotten over it. And now, I am totally chill. I am a Bride and I am chill. Bridechilla. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go freak out because we still have not confirmed a photographer and our wedding is like... 11 days away. 

New Year, New Family

Today I went to Yeongdeungpo with Kenny and his parents to meet up with the rest of the family for the Lunar New Year. 

Can I confess that I have started this post about 7 times. What comes after that sentence? How do I tell you how surprised I was to feel myself relax into a wonderful atmosphere of promise? The essence of expectation mixing pleasantly with the smells of sizzling beef, spicy kimchi, and simmering dokk kuk, the traditional New Year's soup of beef, dumplings, and rice cakes? How do I make you understand my aunt's cheerful beautiful laugh as she hobbles around her small apartment, serving everyone, making sure all the men have heaping bowls of food steaming in front of them? And I want you to see my cousin's smile, her whole face lighting up with generosity and kindness as she congratulates us on our marriage and looks forward to our ceremony. 

Most of all, I want to share with you the joy I found in my small part of the day's ritual. I stood beside my husband, in all my hanbok glory, and bowed down before my grandmother and great aunt, touching my forehead to the floor. I repeated the greeting in Korean I had practiced countless times. I stood back up and watched as the rest of the family, couple by couple bowed before the eldest living members of the family. I felt some small thing shift inside me, some part of me honoring this way of seeing a new year unfold. Bowing before all that has come before, recognizing all the suffering and hardships that bow these two women so close to the ground, even when they're sitting upright. Honoring the past, the foundation for who my family has become in this year and who they will become in the year to come. I found beauty in kneeling before these strong, ancient women, wrinkled and more like children now than adults. 

I filled my belly with good food, prepared by women with good hands and mighty reserves of patience and strength. I crunched through apples filled with sweet honey, a natural effect of stress. Those apples had been peeled by my mother-in-law, a woman whose stress has turned her insides sweet instead of bitter. I held out my hands and received money from my family, trying to remember to look at the giver instead of the gift. I consumed donuts with my cousins and exchanged jokes across languages. I sat in the floor, surrounded by my new family, and felt accepted and loved. I looked to my husband, who paid close attention to conversations, making me feel connected and a part of what was happening around me. He is my only link to the world of foreign words flying around my head at dizzying speeds. And he bears the weight of my inability to communicate, to understand, and sometimes to be present at all. 

Today was a beautiful beginning for me. And tomorrow is another new beginning, marking the 26th year I've been breathing and sleeping and eating. 

My wish for you is that you all find a place that feels like home, that feels like family. 

I'm HUNGRY.

Because I'm a total nerd and because I'm a little bit overexcited about.... well, most things, the boyfriend and I have made a video! I was inspired by this awesome video that Roboseyo so kindly posted on his blog along with more extremely helpful hints. I don't know how many expats read this blog, so this might simply be entertaining my friends and family back home. And in that case, I'm totally quizzing you guys next week. That's right, mom, so listen carefully and watch twice! 

No, really, it's just for fun and because I thought that perhaps it would be cool to hear both sides of the conversation when you're ordering food in Korea. I'm not sure why I haven't raved about the take out service here before, but it's fantastic. You can get food delivered to anywhere. Let's say you're down by the river side sitting on a bench and you feel those familiar, wonderful fuzzies down in your tummy. Some people call them hunger pains, but whatev. I love to eat, but I love to eat even more when I'm hungry. So, you're starved all of a sudden and you're on this random bench and you are convinced that you will die if you do not have jjah-jang-myun (짜장면) immediately. You make a call, you give your approximate location, and a few minutes later, a guy on a motorbike calls you and says, "The third bench underneath the tree on the right after the toilets, or the bench under the third tree?" Seriously, delivery is no problem. And it's free. And, as Otto notes in his video, there are no dishes to be done. There's actually nothing to be done but the eating.

However, before you can enjoy this delicious meal on the third bench, you must order your food. And that might be a bit difficult. So to make it easier (or extremely difficult but rather funny), enjoy our first language lesson experiment! 

[EDIT: Actually, upon review, we have come to the conclusion that our video totally sucks. A remake is in the works that is much simpler and slower and less chatty. So, this is pretty much just for kicks. It was done in a hurry and we didn't practice. And we didn't ever sum up and like have the entire conversation again just in Korean without the explanation. In other words, we know it sucked, you don't have to tell us. But you could tell us how much you love us, instead.]

Oh yeah... I'm getting married...

It's easy for me to forget that I'm getting married in a few months. I'm not really in charge of too much. Actually, I'm not really sure who is in charge, so we'll be lucky if this thing happens at all! Kenny and I decided to have our ceremony here in Korea for a bunch of different reasons, many of which I can't remember right now. I went to a wedding yesterday, the third I've attended here in Korea, and like every other time my response was the same: "I don't want that. Not any of it." 

In Korea, weddings are not sacred ceremonies, the public witness of the bonding of two souls, and all that mushy crap. Weddings are a place to see and be seen. And to eat. When you arrive at a Korean wedding, you should have an envelope full of cash. When you give this envelope to the money-taking person, they will give you a ticket. This ticket is a food ticket and guarantees you a buffet lunch or dinner, depending on when the wedding is being held. And if you don't feel like going to the ceremony, no big deal. Just get in line for the food. I mean, you gave your money already, right? You did your part. (This is why the cost for the wedding is almost always recovered at the wedding itself. There's no registering for gifts or anything like that- people just bring you money, and lots of it.)

For those kind people who actually care or even know the bride and groom, they can watch the ceremony. I say watch because they won't be able to hear it. Yesterday Kenny's dad was officiating at this wedding and he asked the attending guests to be quiet three times, to no avail. It was so noisy that we weren't sure when it was over, and neither were the bride and groom. People let their cell phones ring, some people answered their cell phones, some people shouted into their cell phones while standing up and waving wildly at the person who couldn't find them in the crowded wedding hall. Old friends caught up, families chatted as if they were at the park, and the kids ran wild. It was chaos. And I was glad when it was over.

My dream wedding is a tiny affair in a church where no one talks during my ceremony and no one gets up to leave or to go eat. (This is, of course, a new dream. Because I didn't really have a wedding dream before a wedding was a reality. And now I want weird things that normal girls in the western world take for granted as a given!) I want my ceremony to be intimate and meaningful for me and Kenny and also for those who attend. We're going to try to make the ceremony a really serious affair so that people won't be tempted to talk or call their great-aunt and talk about the weather. There are no bridesmaids or groomsmen and there's no rehearsal (because the place where your wedding will take place is usually a wedding hall with weddings booked at all hours, so you can't rehearse there). We have to feed everyone. I'm adjusting to this whole Korean focus. In a western wedding what the bride wants is what happens. We have entire channels of TV dedicated to brides and their whims and their temper tantrums and their over-the-top dream weddings. But here, it's all about the guests. Your guests should be comfortable and should be entertained and most of all, should be well-fed, because, frankly, they paid for it. 

And to tell you the truth, I don't really think my wedding is going to be the best day of my life. And I'm not sure I'd like to bill it as such, either. It's going to be a good one, hopefully, but it's only a beginning. Kenny keeps saying we shouldn't have our best day on the first day of our marriage- what will we have to look forward to? He's so funny. But in so many ways, he's right. I didn't have a huge wedding dream, things I decided when I was seven years old I couldn't live without. And although I'm not too keen on a lot of the things that take place during a Korean wedding, what really matters is that I'm marrying this man. We're writing our own vows (God help us all, who knows what's going to come of that!) and we're also washing each other's feet before we exchange rings and say "I do." I love the idea of starting our marriage off by serving each other in that way. So we're still having the wedding that we want, in small ways. I'm dancing up the aisle to a Tom Petty song (the chorus of "Here Comes My Girl") and I'm not wearing shoes. (Although what I will be wearing is still up in the air.) Kenny claims that his only demand is that he be allowed to wear a bow tie. Anyway, I guess I might want to start thinking about a few things. Like booking my parents' flight tickets.... or worrying about a wedding dress.... or... no, that's about it. I guess it's not real to me yet. And I'm still just thinking it's really cool I'm getting married 3 months after my sister does. Isn't it cool how things work out? 

Okay, February 21st, here I come. Relatively calm and worry-free. 

But I swear if some ajumma starts running her yap during my service, I'm gonna whip around and offend an entire people group! Lord help us all...

They Don't Want No Chub in da Club

Another advantage of being a ChubbO in Korea: You never have to worry about being harassed by these guys. Thanks to Roboseyo, for posting this. I was really surprised to see this, even in Cheonho, down the street from my apartment. This is one of those times I don't wish to be thin and gorgeous like Korean girls. 

The Stealth Ajumma

This weekend, Keun Ha and I headed out to Insadong ( 인사동) to reinstate the Saturday tradition of Isul Cha (Dew/Hydrangea Tea). As usual, the train was pretty crowded on a Saturday. I wasn't trapped in Subway Purgatory, but I wasn't going to get a seat, either. And I'll tell you why: The Ajummas. Now, I noticed on Saturday that although the Ajumma seems to be set in her ways, she can adapt to almost any situation at hand. Because she knows there are some instances when handbag attacks just will not suffice. She understands that in some cases, subtlety will serve her well. So, on the Saturday afternoon train, I discovered a whole new element of the typical ajumma stereotyped character: Stealth Ajumma.

Yeah, that's right. Stealth Ajumma. She moves with a quickness and she's so fast, you often don't even notice that the seat in front of you has been vacated and refilled in an instant. They slip slyly in and out of the great lines of commuters hanging onto handles like monkeys hanging onto tree limbs. They weave between friends, colleagues, and lovers, their eyes open and entirely aware. They can sense when a person is going to leave a seat before they start to shift their bodyweight and gather their belongings. Stealth Ajumma is not joking. She will have a seat. And that is usually why I don't have one. Oh, I saw the guy I was standing in front of get up, but then I blinked before trying to sit down and when I looked again, Stealth Ajumma had already set up shop. Sometimes they swoop in from the back, slipping into the seat as you turn around, preparing your backside for the awesome contact with the cool metal chair, so that you almost sit on them. Luckily, their handbags usually alert you before you place all your Chubb-O weight on a petite Korean Ajumma, thereby preventing what would surely be unintentional homicide-by-squishing. Even the coarse, wizened ajumma has a softer side.

I've often wondered why I see so few reactions to the Ajumma takeover. The young girls who were planning on sitting in that seat never give a nasty look or say a hateful word. The women who have been standing in line and get the handbag smack don't often roll their eyes. It seems the men are oblivious to the Ajumma. Of course, every time I'm standing in a line [ex: yesterday at the ticket counter in the subway station. I'm like 10th in line. But I'm not moving because as each person is helped, another ajumma bypasses the line and steps straight up to the counter], I find myself fighting the urge to punch all these "cutters" in the throat to show them who's boss. But really, I think there is so much acceptance because all these young girls and women know it will someday be their turn. If they wait long enough, survive long enough, and take enough crap from their elders, it will one day be their turn to dish it out. And they will bypass the lines and they will throw their handbags into seats younger people are attempting to occupy. It's kind of a cycle of life thing. Or heck, just a wait your turn, your time will come thing.

And that's why it's so hard for me to swallow. It's so hard for me to adjust. IT WILL NEVER BE MY TURN. At least not in Korea. I will never look Korean and I will never be able to get away with that behavior. And even if I were allowed to get away with it, I don't know that I could justify it to myself. Ajummas are Ajummas out of necessity. I was discussing this with Keun Ha last night and he said something that resonated with me: "We make fun of ajummas and we think they are a bit ridiculous sometimes, but we never go too far because they are our mothers." So, not only does every young Korean know that someday it will be their turn, but they probably have an ajumma at home that has sacrificed her life for them and her family. They have given so much, cared for others so well, that perhaps when they are on the train or in a store, they just need to take care of themselves.

But, DANG. Watch out for those Stealth Ajummas. They are samurai swift, man. Samurai swift. (Is that a mixed metaphor? Using a Japanese warrior to describe a Korean old lady? Hmmm... I'll let you sort it out.)

Sometimes I Forget, A List

Sometimes I forget that Korea is still considered a developing country.
Sometimes I forget that techno-gadgets do not change the psychology of a country, but only the way that psychology can be transmitted.
Sometimes I forget that the people who are in charge of this country did not grow up in middle-class America.
Sometimes I forget that ajummas are ajummas because it was necessary for them to be rough and coarse in order to get their children to adulthood, in order to put food in their bellies.
Sometimes I forget that only a few decades ago, poverty was the norm and that this affluence and wealth is new and fresh. Sometimes I forget that this government is still learning how to be democratic.
Sometimes I forget that being part of a group and a community isn’t necessarily following the herd, but it’s a conscious decision to belong to something bigger than oneself.
Sometimes I forget that although Korea is modernized on the outsides, her insides still run on an agricultural clock.
Sometimes I forget that there are more important things than being on time or making me feel comfortable.
Sometimes I forget that Koreans don’t say, “my house,” “my wife,” or “my office.”
Sometimes I forget that Koreans always say, “our house,” “our wife,” and “our office.”
Sometimes I forget that I’m not here to change Korea, but instead, I’m here to observe and maybe let Korea change a little bit of me.

Oh, hello Sunday Afternoon Rage

TINY KOREAN GIRL: Oh yes, I'm on a diet. I gained (negligible amount of) kilos in winter. I'm not eating dinner.
OTHER TINY KOREAN GIRL: Oh, how can you?
CHUBBO: Are you kidding me?
TINY KOREAN GIRL (not hearing the edge of rage peeking over my question): No. I don't fit into my clothes anymore. (Aside: Tiny Korean Girl is wearing less than US size 0. Every Sunday she has on really cute doll-size clothes. And they fit.)
OTHER TINY KOREAN GIRL: You're so small though.
TINY KOREAN GIRL: Oh, that's not what my friends say!
CHUBBO: Who are your friends? They suck!
TINY KOREAN GIRL: (insert extremely confused expression with cartoon eyebrows above her head here)
CHUBBO: So, what do you think of me, then?
TINY KOREAN GIRL: Oh, do not be angry. It's okay. You're not Korean.


Conclusion: Korean girls must be thin because they are Korean. They must measure the tops of their thighs and arms in middle school and cry because they have the biggest ones. However, Westerners must be fat because they are Westerners. Dang. I wish I could be thin just to spite them.

Less Blind Rage, More Open-eyed Reflection

Did you miss me, mom? (I say this because my mom is the only person whom I know for sure reads this thing, and she’s the only one who’s asked me where I’ve been. Yes, I’m hurt. Yes, you should post your profuse apologies in the comments section.) I’m still here in Seoul. There’s still rage in the morning. Don’t worry your head about that one. It’s a given.

However, I’ve grown a bit tired of rage. And channeling such intense emotion on such a frequent basis is proving to be quite exhausting. So, I’d like to make a sharp right into digression. Limiting myself to unpleasant commuter experiences is not very representative of my life here. I want to talk about so many things, tell you how much I’m learning, explain why parts of my background and family are becoming precious, lecture you on the parts of Eastern society that we should open our minds to, and amuse you with my anecdotes of being an American girl in Seoul. So, rage is on the backburner: contemplation is piping hot and ready to serve.

Welcome to Contemplation #1

As of last Friday (May 2), I’ve been here for 2 entire months and I’ve collected quite a few experiences as a foreigner that I’m still processing. My identity is not at all settled here. It’s kind of like being back in high school and trying to locate my genuine self, only on a much less boy-driven and drama-ridden level.

I find myself wearing a particular facial expression when I’m in public. It consists of making my eyes as bored and empty as possible so that I won’t seem excited by my surroundings. It involves my eyebrows being pulled down just a bit so that I might appear “to know something about something.” My mouth is closed, my lips locked in a straight line that tries to say. “Hey, I’ve done this before. This is nothing new.” I don’t know what this expression actually communicates, but it’s purpose is to shout to every Korean staring at me, “I AM NOT A TOURIST. I live here, thankyouverymuch.” This desire itself is a mystery to me. Why is it so important to me that random strangers know I’m not just passing through? And is this directly related to my aversion to all Westerners who appear in the street, on the train, or across the coffee shop? I’ve never had such an overwhelming desire to stand apart from people “like me” and to blend in with people who are “different.”

So many times, I find myself on the train wishing away my double eyelids, my language, and my western penchant for cheese. I just want to melt into this culture, to be a part of it as much as possible. But the largest part of this culture, I am finding out, is based on appearances. And therefore, no matter how fluent I become in Korean, no matter how good I become at using chopsticks or eating kimchi, no matter who I marry, I will always be outside, set apart. Damn this adorable nose and my big eyes.

I am a breathing, walking, coffee-gulping dichotomy. I guess I am trying to reconcile my western habits and preconceptions with the eastern society I’m trying to become a part of. I find myself reveling in the parts of myself that are truly American and western. I often celebrate my sincerity and genuine expression of emotion over this oppressive Korean emphasis on formality and social posturing. But at the same time, I admire the communal eating and bathing (with your own gender) within Korean society, mourning how isolated we westerners have become. I rejoice in the American idea of putting in a good day’s work, but see how this pales in comparison to the work ethic of Koreans. They are a tireless people who work long after their hours on the clock are over because that's just the way it is. Their grandfathers and fathers loved their country and wanted to make it strong and prosperous after the war that destroyed so much for them. This mentality is left over from the previous generation and it makes me realize how quickly the youth in America abandon the principles of their fathers.

There are some things I cannot learn to see differently: the pushing and shoving that are socially acceptable without a word to the pushed or shoved. Even after Kenny explained to me that there cannot be “Sorry” in Korea because the word for sorry in Korean is 3 syllables at it’s shortest, and must be adjusted in each case according to the pushed or shoved person’s age and status. There’s simply no time to make these decision correctly. It’s less offensive to push someone and move on rather than to say you are sorry without using the correctly respectful ending. I understand this. My solution: import “Sorry” into the Korean vocabulary just as they have imported many other words, like hand-phone (cell phone), TV, mp3, banana, etc. Or better yet: STOP PUSHING.

There are some things I want desperately to show my country how to change: the way we treat our elderly is one of them. Here, the elderly are treated with the utmost respect. The eldest son or eldest daughter (if there are no sons) of the family cares for them when they grow old. They are not shoved into the nearest nursing home and visited only on national holidays. Every time I enter Kenny’s home, it is important that I find the oldest person in the house and say hello. In this case, it’s his grandmother. Every Saturday morning, Kenny bathes his grandmother because she is paralyzed on one side and cannot wash herself. It’s a task done with love and without shame or embarrassment.

There are many aspects of Korean society I chuckle at: For example, the men carry purses here. Yep. Real purses, like Louis Vuitton and Coach bags. They’re not just doing the manly across the shoulder, but the full-out on the shoulder under the arm. Sometimes I think men in America need to get over their masculinity issues and not be afraid to carry a bag. I mean, men need stuff too, right? So it makes total sense and I appreciate the freedom these Koreans feel to accessorize. The ajummas are always wearing huge visors that stick out incredibly far so that no sunlight dares to touch their skin! If they’ve forgotten their visor, but the sun is out on the street, they will guard their precious faces with a newspaper, an umbrella, even their big bags they use to whack innocent bystanders in the subway with.

So, I’m doubling in on myself. I’m finding new ways to live and function in an Eastern society that has different goals and priorities. And while I’m doing that, I’m trying to hold onto my Western born-and-raised self and the good things, the important things that are a part of my history. I am having to open my mind and accept that things are not always as I wish them to be, nor would it be positive or perfect if they were as I had imagined. I feel that although I’m not a tourist (and for some inexplicable reason deem it somehow embarrassing to be labeled as one) I am a traveler. And when you’re traveling, it’s important to look around with your eyes open and your heart ready for new, surprising, or difficult things. The traveler doesn’t just long to “see,” but wants more than anything to “experience.”

I am definitely experiencing.