DISCO PANG PANG

I know I recently wrote a very long post, trying to bring this blog up to date after my summer lethargy. However! I couldn't wait a decent amount of time to tell you about Disco Pang Pang because it is just too good. Just listen to the name.

The first time I heard Disco Pang Pang I thought it was the least descriptive Konglish name I'd yet encountered. Actually, once you have seen a Disco Pang Pang you know that it is exactly as it sounds.

Disco Pang Pang is a phenomenon hidden in the alleys of every Korean city from the suburbs to the Seoul. An arcade hall filled a single heavily padded and colored amusement ride. Middle to High School girls flock here to pay 4,000W (about $4) to spend rather too long bouncing and spinning to everything from Disco to Kpop. It's a pretty traditional amusement ride except that there are no seat belts and the main job responsibility of the workers seems to be to tease the customers with witty (or not so witty) banter.

I swear all the workers were cackling as a large group of foreigners wandered into the Disco Pang Pang arena. The whole thing was hilarious and oddly fun. We sat on the couch-like seats along the edge of the circular Pang Pang and held on tightly to the surrounding railing as it spun and bounced. The name made a lot more sense as people went flying, pang! pang! pang! into the air. The ride conductor, almost definitely a high school student, kept stopping the ride to interview us — "Where are you from? What is your name? Very handsome." My name must have been easy to remember because I spent the rest of the ride listening to cries of "Josepin! I love you!" Probably one of the more bizarre experiences I have had so far. Of course that doesn't mean I'm not going back.

FALL HOLIDAYS

It's nice to check in after a long time. I've been enjoying the new semester at Dongdo Middle School and getting back into life in Korea. Living in an apartment has taken some getting used to, but after some time I now look forward to coming back to my home after school, turning on the rice cooker and settling down to do a little work or watch some tv.

We've had several holidays since I've been back at school. First in September we had Chuseok, a Korean harvest festival during which many Korean families perform ancestral rites and eat a lot of food together. Then last week we had a three day weekend and this week I haven't gone in to school at all due to a combination of midterm exams and vacation days. 

When Chuseok came around back in September I was in the middle of studying for the GRE subject test in literature. I had no spare brain space to make any plans for the long weekend and was, in fact, still unpacking some of my bags. Instead of making plans I sent my host mom a text message that Sunday asking her if there was some time I could come visit that week. I got the reply right away, "We are at home today! Come any time!" I hadn't been expecting to go quite so soon, but grabbed my purse and went straight to Dong Daegu train station. Chuseok is a notoriously bad time for traveling because everyone is trying to go see their families. However, the train station was not bad and after 40 minutes of loitering in the cafe car I found myself back in Gumi and catching the familiar bus to Shinpyeong. I spent the afternoon there with my host mom and sisters, watching tv, eating ceremonial food and peeling various vegetables. It was as if I had never left. I went home that evening, but they invited me back for a big lunch the next day. This time I was able to see my host cousins. Jun Hyun has started going to an English hagwon and his parents wanted to show off his new English skills. "Long time no see." He followed this up with a long litany of baseball teams and body parts: "Lions, Twins, Elbow, Eagles, Hand." I tried playing tag with the boys outside, but it was beastly hot and they talked me into buying ice cream instead. In the CU I wondered what the cashier thought as a random foreigner argued with two young boys in broken Korean. No, you have to choose one, the juice or the ice cream; no I am not buying you gum as well. It was sweet seeing them all again, seeing how sedately their lives go on.

The next three day weekend found me back in Gumi again, this time to see my friends. I had been meaning to get back to board game club for some time because I had a new game I wanted to try out "Resistance." Basically it sounded like a more intense version of mafia and great for a large group. In fact, it was both those things. However, it was also a terrible game to play with a highly competitive group of friends. After two rounds we really needed to unwind and finished the night by playing drinking games while watching The Room. I love cozy nights like this, surrounded by people I like. Nights like this can be hard to come by living alone in a foreign country, but I've been so lucky in all the people I've met here. 

I stayed over with my friends that night because the next day we were all going to the LG Dream Festival. As the name implies it's a celebration of LG including a local talent show ("Dreams do come true") and culminating in a big name KPop concert. We arrived at the stadium around 1pm in order to grab prime seats. It was a perfect day to be outside with a clear bright sun shining over the edge of the stadium walls. It was a real festival atmosphere with a booths selling fried foods, stilt walkers making balloon animals, carnival games to win packs of ramen and robot exhibitions by LG. We lounged our way through the afternoon performances which began at 4pm. Then began waiting anxiously for the Kpop to arrive. There was a long, patriotic rally for LG which promised to be interminable, except that the staff began handing out giant paper lanterns to members of the crowd to send into the sky. I've been wanting to send off one of these lanterns ever since I saw a picture of Taiwanese New Year's celebrations. One of my friends made a commotion and we soon got a lantern. It was about the size of a medium size suitcase, made of pale paper with a thin wire base where a piece of unburning paper provided the fuel. We held it together on all sides. It was much harder to do than I expected as the wind threatened to collapse the dome and sent sprays of hot fire licking around our hands. I saw smoke rising around the crowd and several people had their lanterns taken away in flames. However, as a gust of wind tugged the lantern we agreed "Let it go!" and sent it off into the air. We watched it rise up over the crowd, past the floodlights until it disappeared. My friend thought it crashed, but I think it just floated further than we could see. Hundreds of lanterns were still being raised around the stadium. One didn't catch a big enough burst of wind and went skimming over the heads of the crowd until one brave high schooler pushed it further up into the air. 

Later we saw Vixx, BAP, AOA and B2ST. Each group performed three or four of their most popular songs and did a short interview for the crowd. None of the groups were my favorite, but seeing them was still a lot of fun and the dancing was awesome. I knew somewhere in the crowd my host sister was going crazy. BAP is her favorite, favorite group and she got special tickets close to the stage just to see them. 

In a quick turnaround I met up with two of my Fulbright friends in Busan the day after the concert for the Busan International Film Festival. I missed this festival last year and knew I couldn't miss it again after hearing stories from my friends who had gone. Perhaps one of my favorite things about now living in Daegu, I was able to take the KTX (Korea's high speed train, 300km/hr) from Dong Daegu Station to Busan in just about 45 minutes. It took about another hour on the subway to meet my friends and then we bought tickets for that day: a Korean film called Venus Talk and a Vietnamese film called Gentle. Both movies were showing in the Shinsegae theater at Centum City, the largest shopping mall in Asia. Venus Talk turned out to be a Korean style Sex and the City following three middle aged women as they navigate their increasingly complicated sex lives. My friends and I loved it. After the showing the director and three main actresses came on stage for an interview and photo shoot. 

The second movie was darker and more experimental. The director was born in Vietnam, but raised all his life in America. When he was 26 he went back to visit Vietnam for the first time and since then has spent a great deal of time there. The movie we saw, Gentle, was his third film made in Vietnam. It was based on a short story by Dostoevsky in which a widower reminisces over his married life while sitting next to his wife's corpse. The wife has committed suicide and throughout the movie the widower reveals the ways in which his own arrogance and weakness led to her death. Like any good Dosteovesky story it is subtle and full of religion. Interestingly, the director told us that reading this story for the first time he had such a strong sense that it was a Vietnamese story that he had to make the film. 

After all the movies and interviews it was late enough for dinner. We went back to our hostel so I could drop off my backpack and got dinner at one of the nearby grill restaurants where we ate some mediocre beef. Then we hung out on the beach listening to the live music that must have been part of the festival. On the beach with the wind it was very cold. Eventually we met up with some other fulbrighters and talked for a long time before heading to bed. 

Our final day in Busan we checked out of the hostel and got tickets for one more movie: a Spanish film called Magical Girl which we hoped would be quirky and charming. It was anything but. Although it opened as promised with the daughter, dying of leukemia and her obsession with the Japanese anime character Yukiko, the relationship of father and daughter soon became a secondary concern of the film as the diegesis focused further and further on the bizarre woman Barbara who the father attempts to blackmail in order to buy his daughter a magical girl outfit. The plot which had sounded so goofy at first vacillated between implied sexual abuse, the corruptions of the spanish government, mental illness and prostitution. We left the theater feeling stunned and a bit trampled. 

To cure ourselves we went to Spaland, my favorite place in Busan, where we ate lunch at the spa restuarant, nearly fell asleep in the relaxtion rooms, soaked in the baths and received full body scrubs from professional ajummas in black lace lingerie. It was my first time getting the full body scrub and it. was. great. It was like getting a massage except at the same time I could see beads of dead skin rolling off of my body in great swirls. I can't tell if my skin is more glowing now, but it does feel marvelously smooth. After our scrubs we rinsed once again and parted ways.

The rest of this week has been wonderfully restful. On Monday I visited my old school in Gumi. I had a kalguksu lunch with Jung Nam Suk and my ajumma friends, practiced my Korean and gossiped over coffee. That evening I went back to Daegu for my first NKD meeting of the semester. Wednesday was Club Day for our school so I joined my coteacher, Hyeon Young, and her club class to make choco muffins. I worked with the third graders who were very silly. We ended the afternoon at Beomeo Library where I found a really wonderful collection of English books. I don't have a library card yet, but I sat down that afternoon and, with no classes Thursday or Friday, read The Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. Looking forward to visiting that place much more often in the future. 

On libraries, new beginnings, and eating alone

I have been trying to write about February. I wanted to tell you about this month that loomed so monumental in my mind while being in all other respects so minimal. February is a short month, an odd month, forced to change every now and then from 28 days to 29. It is the most abysmal month of winter in many places (I include Korea in that list) and the most difficult month to spell. Yet it is also the month of the Sochi Olympics, the month of Valentines day. February was the month of my middle school's graduation ceremony and the last month of our ample winter vacation. For me, this month had another meaning; for me this was the month to make it or break it.

I had a choice between living in Gumi with my host family for the month of February or living in Seoul, as many of my friends were doing. I chose, for a variety of reasons, to stay in Gumi and spend my time studying for the GRE and building relationships in my placement city. It was a difficult decision, no less because staying in Gumi meant self-managing my time, whereas in Seoul I would most likely have taken language classes. By staying in Gumi I wanted to test myself, to see how well I could sustain an energetic and productive life entirely on my own schedule.

Now, in early March I can say I did enjoy that time. I loved it. I had the freedom to study hard and the freedom to sleep. I had the time to visit friends and the time to read. I had the time to make new friends, to make new habits. Of course, not everything happens simply because you have enough time. Coming back to Korea from my visit to the States and my vacation in Taipei and Hanoi left me in the right mind to make the most of my time.

However, this time was not always pleasant. In the midst of my school's graduation, as I watched a performance of Apink's "No No No" and waved balloons for my favorite 3rd graders, my co-teacher leaned over and told me that 25 of our students were not at graduation. They had been banned for participating in the beating of several 2nd grade students just two days earlier. The news was both sad and shocking. Our school has always been rough around the edges, but I never expected something so intentionally brutal. At the same time I know that school gangs are a nation-wide problem in Korea and that for many students the choice might be between participating and suffering from bullying themselves. Over the next few days I discovered that, of the 2nd grade students, one had broken his collar bone, one had a ruptured ear drum and another had to have all his teeth moved back into place. In many ways, I became more anxious to return to school.

Saying goodbye to my other 3rd graders was sad in a very different way. I have about 245 students in the 3rd grade alone, so it's difficult to get to know any of them very well. I know I taught them only one semester and that only about 16 lessons. Of the few students who really shone and made my lessons exciting to teach, I had little belief that they would wish me a tearful goodbye and ask to stay in touch forever. Yet many students came over for a quick hug or a handshake. I was so touched that they wanted to say goodbye, especially those who told me they missed my class in the last few months.

Shortly after graduation I travelled to Seoul to visit my friends. I went twice in February. Once when I couldn't bear to study any longer and again as soon as I finished the GRE. Having a place to stay in Seoul was wonderful (thank you friends!) and as my friends were all taking classes or doing internships during the day I had a lot of time to do the touristy things in Seoul that I hadn't had time for on other weekend trips. I went twice to the National Museum of Korea, whose smoky paintings captured a facet of Korean life new to me. The museum is truly spectacular with three stories of art and artifacts from prehistory to the modern era and entirely free. In my two visits I have only conquered two of the three floors, but I was able to see the evolution of Korean calligraphy, Korean paintings — from portraits, to landscapes, to insect studies —, a re-created 'sarangbang' or Korean scholar's study and artifacts from every kingdom of Korea up to the Japanese occupation. I highly recommend a visit to anyone who will be in Seoul.

Beyond museums I spent time in cafes from the college areas of Hongdae and Idae to the tourist-turned-artistic-area of Insadong. Around Insadong I also visited the Hanok village, an area of Seoul where traditional Korean houses (circa. the Joseon Era I believe) have been preserved and are still lived in. It happened to be warm and sunny on this day, and the streets — which ask tourists to be quiet in respect for the residents — were full of screaming school children. Later I met some old friends for dinner in Myeongdong, a popular shopping neighborhood, and visited the new Seoul Museum of Modern Art, which was having a free night. Although it's not the same as living in the city, I was able to do a lot on my visits, so I now feel very comfortable in Seoul and have crossed a lot of items off my bucket list.

In Gumi school has started again. Some things are new, some are not, but the greatest change is in my confidence as a teacher. It has only been a week, but I feel that I have stepped up my game on all levels of teaching, from lesson planning to execution to classroom management to connecting with students outside of class. It has only been a week, but I have really good feelings for this semester. I again have about 700 students — 7 classes of 3rd graders, 7 classes of 2nd graders and 6 classes of 1st graders. My returning students have been surprisingly polite in class. Not sure if this is due to our continued rapport, my new classroom management plan, or some strain of first week shyness. The new 1st graders are a joy to teach. They are so eager to participate and several of the classes I've seen so far seem to be quite high level. I also have a new co-teacher for my 1st grade students who I like very much. She is both kind and efficient. I'm excited about what we can do with our classes for the rest of the semester.

I've made a few lifestyle changes for the new semester as well. I joined a gym halfway through February and have been going everyday when I can. I'm really enjoying the classes there. After a yoga class I always find my mood and motivation lifted. I've also decided to stop volunteering at the Hana Center in Daegu. This was a difficult decision to make since I really enjoyed working with my mentee and the community feeling of the center. However, commuting to Daegu once a week while working a full teaching schedule was a strain on my time and my relationships with my host family. This semester I am adding a club class to my teaching schedule, bringing my teaching hours up to 22 a week. With the added prep time and knowing my difficulty in commuting last semester I just couldn't commit to doing the program again in the spring. It would be unfair on everyone else involved for me to commit when I was unsure I could fully participate. If I stay in Korea another year, without the obligations of a host family, it is something I hope I would be able to return to.

However, whether I will be in Korea past this July is still undecided and as such I am suddenly pressed upon by the many things I have yet to do here. It's for this reason that I want to keep my weekends this semester free. If last semester I was committed to getting my bearings in Gumi, this semester I hope to roam more. I had an epiphany of sorts this February while visiting Seoul. As I said, I had a lot of alone time there as well as a lot of time in the evenings talking to my friends. But it was while I was sitting, eating alone in the restaurant of the National Museum of Korea, looking forward to drinking wine with my friends later in the evening when we were all done with our work, that I realized this is what I want to do with the rest of my semester. If during the week I am 100% committed to my school, during the weekends I want to commit myself 100% to teaching myself. I had such a feeling of comfort in my solitariness then — full of the pleasure of intellectual pursuit and the sure knowledge of my kind friends waiting for me later. We're always a bit alone in Korea, even and despite the ever present circles of host family, school family and Fulbright family. Yet there are some moments of clarity when you can turn that aloneness into something new — freedom, comfort, a new discovery. Those are the moments I will cultivate this semester and those are the lessons I want to learn.

SNAPSHOT NOVEMBER

This November I’ve been getting closer to my host family, my students and my friends here in Korea. Some of these moments I have caught on my phone, others not. Here is a sampling of the moments that have brightened my November days.

1. At Seonsan market with my host family my youngest host cousin became obsessed with this blanket. He wouldn’t leave it alone until the family bought it for him. Then he tried to carry it on his head through the whole market. When we finally tucked the blanket in our shopping bag he had to open the bag at each stop to make sure his blankie was still there.

2. A few weekends ago I went to Gwangju to see some friends and teach a lesson for the Korean Bridge Initiative (a non-profit that provides free English lessons for motivated, low-income students). The students were amazing — so intelligent and kind. Afterwards some students and teachers went out for lunch. Speaking with these students whose interests are so diverse and dreams so big encourages me to keep working hard on teaching everyday.

3. There is one coffee shop that I go to regularly in Gumi. I know both the baristas there very well by sight. Though we rarely talk, we have a rapport based on the smile and nod. Last time I was there one of the baristas brought me this latte and explained — it says “HI” to you. Perfect treat to make me smile all day.

4. November is also the time for our school field trip. I went with the second grade students to Geumo Mountain where we hiked and looked at the autumn leaves (단풍). My students had a lot of fun yelling in English and complaining that they were tired. I wish I could spend time with the students and teachers outside of class setting more often.

5. After hiking a mob of second grade girls came over and started asking me questions about the U.S. and about my life. The conversation ended with us taking many, many pictures together (though I only managed to snag this one where everyone is covering their face).





November can be a tough month as winds pick up and the sun sets sooner. I know I am giving thanks for heated floors, lemon tea and absorbing Korean Dramas. What are you thankful for this month?

OCTOBER, THE END

October has been a hectic month for me and I am not sorry to see it go. Beginning with the Jinju Lantern Festival I have traveled almost every week in October (if you count trips to Daegu, which I am starting to). I had my first and second NKD meetings, the Fulbright Fall Conference in Gyeongju and our school festival, which threw an entire week into uproar. I bicycled past traditional houses in Gyeongju and sang in Korean in front of over 700 middle school students. This month I have made some of the memories that I will cherish long after I have left Korea. But now I am tired.

Life moves at different paces and, personally, I enjoy a nice brisk trot. Lately though, life has been galloping and I need it to slow down. Early in September when I had just arrived in Gumi I had so much time on my hands that I piled my to-do list higher and higher. The result being a nice fat cold when alls said and done. I might sound sad — I am sad — but it is a sadness of letting go. The fact is I love everything I am doing here in Korea. I love teaching, traveling, studying Korean, blogging, volunteering and building friendships, new and old, but in doing everything I love I am losing me a little bit. Without time to reflect it's all action, action, action. My body is moving, but my self feels more and more lost. I need to cut back. I was so excited about this chance to grow, about all this opportunity, that my tree is now in dire need of pruning. And of all my pursuits the easiest to clip is traveling.

I didn't travel to Korea for excitement, for new sights and smells. I traveled to Korea for people and for kitchen tables — for the student yelling Beyonce lyrics in the hallway and the bus that is always late. I would rather miss a thousand glorious Buddhist temples, than miss the moment when my host cousin held my hand as we walked to the market. So many hours of perhaps 'unproductive' time led up to that moment, yet they made possible this unexpected treasure.

I could say, oh, there will be time later for everything. If I don't travel now, I will have time in the spring or next year. In some ways I really believe this is true. The time for travel will become possible. However, I also want to know that if there was never more time, if I left Korea today or tomorrow, I could say I spent my energy on the people I met, rather than the places I went.

All that being said, I still have some commitments to fulfill. This weekend I am traveling to Gwangju to teach a class for the Korean Bridge Initiative, a nonprofit providing English language classes to motivated students who can't afford hagwons. Although I somewhat dread traveling once more I am excited for the chance to teach such motivated high school students. Since they are higher level and more mature I can follow my passions and do a creative lesson on scanning poetry (something I could never do with my middle schoolers).

After Saturday I look forward to some quality time in Gumi for the rest of the semester. And, despite my moaning and groaning, look forward to uploading photos of Gyeongju and some adorable video of my school festival soon!

OUR NEIGHBORHOOD

A short photographic tour of our neighborhood.

Our house snuggled between apartment buildings. Both my host parents are fond of gardening.

A pumpkin-covered rooftop.

Walking near the middle school.

Our middle school, hiding behind the trees.

Looking out at an intersection from fountain park.

Underpass.

CHUSEOK (추석): A KOREAN THANKSGIVING

A lazy morning, frying meat in front of the tv.

This last week we had class for only two days because of the important Korean holiday Chuseok. Chuseok is often compared to American Thanksgiving since it involves getting together with family and eating a lot of food. However Chuseok is most traditionally about honoring one's ancestors so bowing and visiting graves is the basis of the holiday. My family is fairly traditional, though not especially religious so we had the ceremony at our house, offering food and bowing to Aboji's ancestors. Some families wear full hanbok for the occasion, but in our household only Aboji dressed up and the rest of us wore jeans. Traditionally everyone gathers at the parents house or, if parents are too far away, the first son's house for the holiday. The first son is in charge of the ceremony and the first son's wife is in charge of cooking for everyone. My co-teacher told me "Korean ladies do not prefer first sons." That's why, after sleeping in Wednesday, my host sisters and I spent the morning frying meat while watching comedy shows. The rest of Wednesday was pretty lazy as well, a relief not to think about lesson plans or travel plans for a few days. I've recently begun watching the drama "Secret Garden," by which I mean I started on Wednesday and I'm already on episode 7 (and these episodes are over an hour long). So I'm using my free time well?

Our Chuseok ceremony spread.

Thursday we woke up bright and early because relatives were arriving around 9:00. We set out all the food on special dishes before the screen and lit incense. When everyone had arrived the fathers and children stood in front of the food, took turns pouring or serving bits of food before the screen and did ceremonial bows. I took part in the bowing and even poured makgeoli (rice wine) for the ancestors. After we finished bowing the set-up was quickly dismantled and replaced with a brunch of bibimbap and all our ceremonial side dishes.

From left to right: host cousin, university host sister, Aboji, Oma's Mother, and Oma at our second lunch in Seonsan.

In the afternoon Aboji's family left and we went to Seonsan to see Oma's family. We stayed there for a long time enjoying more food and drinks. I spent a lot of my time playing with my little host cousins (ages unknown). They're adorable in a very loud sort of way and they don't mind my inability to communicate. We were still able to play badminton and hide and go seek.

Some intense badminton with the little host cousins. But actually the younger one is better than me.

Host cousin climbing the neighbors windows. He could get all the way to the top. Thankfully I do know how to say "Don't!" in Korean.

Late afternoon, pumping up the bike tires.

Today we woke up at 7am to have breakfast in Seonsan and visit Oma's family graves. After coffee and a lot of shuffling to get everyone together we drove to Seonsan and met Harmoeni at her house where we all ate cup ramen for breakfast. (Don't get me wrong, Harmoeni offered bibimbap, but someone mentioned cup ramen and then we all wanted it!)

Just outside Seonsan, walking to visit graves.

Afterwards we piled into the car again and drove to a farming area near Seonsan. There was some confusion with directions and when we walked into a courtyard with a dog growling at us I thought maybe we were asking for help. Instead it turned out we had arrived at Harmoeni's sister's house. From there we all walked up the mountainside to the family graves, Aboji carrying our mat and supply of soju. It was a gorgeous area full of rice paddies, peppers, sweet potatoes, persimmon trees, apple orchards and wild plums. I couldn't stop breathing in the clean, damp-earth smell. I also couldn't stop wondering if Korea has ticks or not.

My two host sisters and Oma.

Aboji escorting the grandmas.

On the way down we stopped to see Harmoeni's sister's cows. My middle school host sister handing out the hay.

Sun-soaked persimmons.

Bright orange fruits were smashed all along the road up and down the mountain. I love their color and the big drooping leaves of the trees, also starting to tinge orange. I've never seen persimmon trees before, but still it reminded me of time spent outdoors in Minnesota, or visiting the deep gorges of upstate New York.

Bowing to my host family's ancestors I had a sense of inclusion, that my Korean family is my family, their ancestors mine as well. Yet I also had a sense of displacement to be so far from my own ancestors. I wondered if, by bowing now in Korea, I could bow to my grandparents and my grandparent's grandparents. It's family lore that my great-great grandma Josephine, for whom I was named, saw Lincoln's funeral train while she was traveling to Minnesota in a covered wagon. Being here in Korea I can appreciate how much physical distance separates me from that history and how much, though I might take it for granted that history matters. In Korea family matters. It matters a lot, even in distance and even in death. It reminded me that going home isn't about homesickness, or about weakness. In America there's a certain stigma behind people 'living at home' past a certain age and few extended families live near each other anymore. Our work style requires us to be mobile, to leave family behind in preference to a job.

I have been lucky enough to do a fair amount of traveling myself, here in Korea and elsewhere. For me, traveling is about discovering who I am separated from familiarity and about who I can be when painted across a different landscape. To travel is both difficult and fascinating, but I would hate to forget, sometimes worry I might lose, the knowledge that there is a particular difficulty and fascination that belongs to the journey home as well. So thank you Chuseok, for reminding me.

WHAT I'VE BEEN GIVEN

Peeking out from behind the trees is my school, Shinpyeong Middle School. Both this woman with her fields, and my school are about a five minute walk from my host home.

Sunday I took a walk through the woods behind my middle school. The middle school sits at the top of a hill — the highest point in the neighborhood — and just above it sits the wood. A narrow dirt path and steep stairs made of logs and earth meander across the area, each curve harboring a small field or garden. I haven't been in Gumi long, but this is one of the things I know I love: that at any moment urban apartments may give way to farms and you can taste the difference in the air. Above my middle school a farmer is growing pumpkins, red peppers and morning glories, the fields themselves clinging dangerously to the hill.

I was walking here when I saw an insect — something long and scurrying — and I wondered what it was called, whether I could get a better look, maybe take a picture if it was interesting. And as I thought this my second thought was that I ought to thank my uncle, an entomologist, for giving me this interest.

My life so far has been rich with engaged and interested people who have given me so much to think about.

My grandparents on either side showed me that learning is not something stationary, but is happening to us at every moment if we only allow it. They taught me to learn from books and then that books come in many forms — sometimes they look like paper, other times they can be found in fossils or in a single word.

My parents showed me that nature is everywhere you look. They taught me to look at the tree and to ask its name, but also to look at the tree and see its shape and to know the name of the shape that belongs to just that tree.

I think how different my world would be if I were not looking at it, were not reading it through the eyes of my friends and family. Without them, these woods would be much emptier. I am so grateful.

These thoughts come as I am struggling with a difficult life decision. This last week I had several epiphanies. The first was when I realized late one evening that, while I would love to be a professor, there is so much more to consider before going to graduate school. The more I read about graduate school right now the riskier it appears, and while I value finding satisfaction in my work, there are other occupations where I could find that same satisfaction. The second occurred as I was leaving my school Friday afternoon and some students ran yelling past. I realized then that I love my students. I was afraid that I might never have that realization, but I did and I do.

Now, these two epiphanies aren’t necessarily related, but they could be. Both realizations are part of my learning process this year, the stress being on process — something that is intrinsically moving and changing.

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night I never knew I liked the night pitch-black sparks fly from the engine I didn't know I loved sparks I didn't know I loved so many things and I had to wait until sixty to find it out sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train watching the world disappear as if on a journey of no return - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15930#sthash.f7xpWePR.dpuf

I used to wonder how teachers could find it in them to care about all their students, even — especially — the troublemakers. How could teachers persistently wish for each and every student to succeed? Yet in becoming a teacher I have learned that teachers are always watching. I see my students all the time in and out of class. They are so active, so loud, and yet so often lost in themselves. They're just kids. I want them all to succeed, even — and especially — the ones that cause trouble. I know their behavior isn't about me, but about something they're going through.

It's good to know — as I'm trying to sift through my values and find out where they will lead — that I can still discover things that I care about, things that maybe I didn't expect.

LOSING MYSELF IN DAEGU (대구)

Last weekend I traveled from my home in Gumi to the nearby city of Daegu for some much needed time with friends and American food. All the cities in Korea have unique (sometimes odd) English slogans and this weekend "Colorful Daegu" was celebrating its name with an international body painting festival. My friend Jina and I planned to meet around mid-morning, grab an American brunch, then go to the festival until about 7 or 8 in the evening. Unfortunately Saturday turned out to be one of those days when everything goes wrong.

From Gumi to Daegu it is only 30 or 40 minutes by train or an hour by bus. I had planned to take the train, but as I barely caught the bus to the train station I got a text from a friend saying there were no trains to Daegu because of a crash at the station. As the day unfolded I learned that a KTX train (Korea's fastest, going around 300km/hr) had crashed into a slower train somewhere between Gumi and Daegu. I doubled back to the bus station and quickly bought a ticket for Dong Daegu where I hoped Jina was also arriving. The station was a madhouse because of the crash and I just barely managed to grab a seat on the bus. From Gumi to Daegu the aisle was stuffed full of standing people. In fact I was glad I made it on the bus at all.

Arriving in Daegu went smoothly and Jina and I were able to find each other with little trouble. For the last two weeks I hadn't seen or really spoken to anyone from orientation beyond the odd Kakao, so meeting Jina was cathartic. There are some things you can only say to people you know well. There are some things you can only vent about when you've already crossed that bridge with someone. We both had a lot to say about homestays and teaching. It's good to hear, not just what is similar, but what is wildly different about our experiences. It gives us some scaffolding, some perspective to hang on to when our own lives are so new.

Meeting up also gave us an opportunity to indulge. Jina was craving bacon and I was starting to dream about french toast so we caught a cab downtown in order to find JJ's Bar and Grill, a notoriously delicious brunch spot for foreigners. Once downtown we knew we were close. However, between the two of us I'm pretty good at maps, but pretty bad at Korean, whereas Jina is quite good at Korean, but not the best at maps. So we took a nice long walk before finally reaching JJ's — only to find that it was closed. We stood in front of the sign that said "JJ's Brunch 11-4 Sat and Sun" and shook the doors, but what can you do? We stopped into a little cafe, had a bit of a cry, used the toilet, and googled brunch spots in Daegu on our phones. I found a pretty hip looking cafe called Hany's that was supposed to be only a few blocks away. We walked there and it was as artsy as promised, but also closed.

At this point we gave up and went to a restaurant unambiguously called "Burgers and Pasta." The place had sliding glass doors opening out onto the wide shopping street and about five waiters. We were the only people there. But the best part was that "Burgers and Pasta" turned out to have brunch. It was like that saying, "Stop looking for love and love will find you," except it was "Stop looking for brunch and brunch will find you."

Pleasantly full, we did some wandering, some light shopping and slowly caught a taxi to Duryu Park where the festival was taking place.

The park was sprawling with twisty pine trees, hordes of food booths and picnickers. I want to go back and just lie in the shade on a lazy weekend. We explored a bit, ran into a few other ETAs and then watched the show. The festival had two parts — costume design and literal body painting. The costumes were first and were stunning in a gaudy, sci-fi kind of way. I liked the second half better. With the body painting you could really see how the paintings moved with and and around the model's muscles, like a new way of mapping out the body or some kind of optical illusion. It was the familiar shape of the human body made unfamiliar. Each time a model walked onto the stage I found myself straining to differentiate the body in paint from the picture itself.

After the show there was music and we ended up staying much longer than we meant to. I found myself reluctant to leave my friend's company and head home. The nights have been getting chillier now as the sun sets, just cold enough that you long to be out of the wind and to hold a hot drink in your hands. But we had buses to catch, host families to return to, and we went our separate ways.

I returned to the bus station feeling a little rushed, a little nervous. I wanted to get back to my host family and rest. I had gotten careless though. Usually I am a meticulous traveler, but I was feeling comfortable in Korea. I hadn't double checked the last bus times and when I got to the station I discovered the last bus was not at 9:30 as I thought but at 8:30. I had missed it by half an hour.

I texted my host mom and hurried over to the train station, thankfully within sight of the bus stop. There's nothing like losing your means of transportation to leave you feeling exposed. It's almost like a herd instinct, I wanted to have someone with me, or a hole to hide in. I felt then that everyone knew I was alone. My pessimistic side was confirmed when the clerk told me there were no trains to Gumi.

I walked back to the bus station once more and called my host mom. I told her I couldn't come back to Gumi, that I would call a friend and stay overnight. My eyes were crying a little bit and I hurried to walk it off, to look in control. It was at this point my phone told me it was running on only 7% battery. I've traveled a fair amount, but always with friends. Being in Daegu without a friend or phone would be the most alone I have ever been in my life. I didn't realize before how much my sense of safety everyday comes from having a place to return to and the confidence that I can get there. I was still fighting back tears when I called my friend Nic, a second year ETA who I knew was visiting friends in Daegu today. He was still in Daegu and told me how to reach them. I managed — with my phone still clinging to life — but not before I took the wrong bus, traveled 30 minutes into a dimly lit suburb and had to take a taxi all the way back. To know that I was safe, that this was not the weekend I would sleep on the streets of Daegu was such a relief. I'm grateful to have such support and friendship from all the ETAs here and to know, no matter where I am, there is someone I can call on. On the other hand, I'm going to stay put in Gumi this weekend, and the next time I travel, I will treat the Korean transit system with the proper respect and circumspection.

TOUGH LOVE

No one ever said teaching was easy, but in the course of this week I've come to think of teaching in the same manner as extreme sports like ultramarathons and cave diving. All three require specialized knowledge and preparation, but it is the performer's endurance that is tested. In teaching I can plan my lessons, my classroom management strategies, my routines and goals — but what matters is how I execute those plans while actually teaching. In the classroom, the real test is keeping the class engaged. This week I'm engaging the students by increasing discipline and pacing.

Last week, my biggest difficulty was with students talking and becoming distracted throughout my lessons, so that I was constantly having to call their attention back to me and ask them to be quiet. The problem came both from my newness as a teacher and the nature of the lesson. I was doing an introductory lesson aiming to tell the students about myself and learn a little about their English levels (and personalities).

Since I was already planning to make journaling a part of our classroom routine I decided to have the students introduce themselves by making covers for their journals including their names, a picture of themselves and several sentences describing their personalities and things they like. For practical reasons it made sense for the students to make the journals as well. (I was not buying 735 journals, nor was I planning on making 735 journals by myself either. Someone told me that in teaching 'never do anything yourself that the students can do' and I think it was very good advice.)

However, making the journals required several separate steps as well as some translation from my co-teachers on the trickier instructions, both of which drew the class's attention away from me. Once we moved into the actual drawing and writing things went much smoother and the final results ranged from thoughtful to hilarious.

A sampling of my favorites (students' names removed for privacy):

One of my more eloquent students. Love the attitude in the portrait.

And then I get journals like this. Trolling indeed.

Sometimes those that don't follow the directions are most revealing. I am charmed by this student's stag beetles.

One of the best drawings I received and a classic self description. All students like chicken.

And of course there are a few odd-balls. I'm not sure what makes this one so good, the flying oranges, the tiny chorus line, or the emphasis of "I feel good ~ and cool ~".

PHOTO STORY — 8/20/13

Today was hectic and wonderful, but most importantly filled with photo opportunities, so, until I can write a full post on teaching, let me tell you about the other parts of my day.

This is the view from a back window at my school, Gumi Shinpyeong Middle School. I am not in the least bit over my honeymoon with the Korean landscape. Every time I walk by a window I catch my breath.

Here is my desk at school. I share an office with my Fulbright co-teacher in the English hallway. I worried it might be lonely, away from the other teachers, but people are often dropping in to use the printer or just say hello. Every day after lunch we have coffee together with one of the other English teachers. I really appreciate the teachers here letting me into their routines and relationships, even with (and despite) my pitiable Korean skills.

Here is my view walking home from school. It's only a 5 minute walk but I get to survey Gumi and the surrounding mountains as I go. Between trying to get on my feet with teaching and getting to know my host family I haven't explored Gumi much yet, a fact I hope to change very soon. Tomorrow I should be opening a local bank account and I plan to purchase a bus card as well.

 This evening my host family and I went to Geumo Mountain and walked around the lake there. Geumo is famous for the obvious beauty and because of this a little holiday town has grown up there complete with a mini theme park and hordes of cute restaurants.

We stayed late enough to see tired families heading home and college students heading out for the night.

Tomorrow is another day of teaching, wish me luck! ~ Josephine

PRELUDE

Just a quick update to say I'm teaching my first classes tomorrow (terrified screams ensue). In reality I'm probably as prepared as I can be at this point.

I will be teaching various classes from all three grades of middle school tomorrow — nothing too demanding since it's my first time meeting the students. The plan is to introduce myself and my class rules for about one third of the lesson. The other two-thirds will be spent having the students construct paper journals that they will write in for the rest of the semester. Then each student will decorate the cover of his or her journal with a cartoon describing his or her self, their likes and dislikes as well as personal traits. I hope this will be a fun activity and that reviewing the cartoons later will help me understand my students and their English abilities a bit better.

In other news, today I made kimbap with my family and then painted my nails with one of my host sisters, both of which were a lot of fun. In my family it's pretty customary to jump into lounging clothes (read pajamas) as soon as you get home from work/school/hagwon and I think I will never ever go back to wearing real clothes at home.

A NEW LIFE

Yesterday began at 6 a.m. in my dorm room at Jungwon University and ended 2 hours away in Gumi, Gyeongsangbuk-do, in the home of my host family. Days like this are not long or short, but seem to exist almost outside of time, because they are deprived of the familiar. Here at my homestay I am entirely beholden to the whims of the family. I do not know when we eat dinner, where we sit, why people come and go as they do, but it is all right. They are like the ocean. They know what they are doing and their movement is as natural and regular as the waves. I am the jellyfish floating on top. I am carried along, without understanding or direction. But at the same time I am fulfilling my own life, one that simply coincides with this rhythmic household. As the jellyfish eats and lives within the waves, so I am fitting my pursuits into the tug and pull of this home. Now, because I know so very little, I allow myself to be tugged about indifferently. When it is time to eat I eat. When it is time to sit I sit. When it is time to sleep I sleep. There is little to punctuate the day, but the comings and goings of different members. Now sister goes to Hagwon. Later she returns. When there is laughter I laugh, but usually I don't know what it means.

My homestay household is jolly and light. Often Oma and Harmoeni are laughing, chatting, their speech punctuated only by the electric fan and barks from the neighbor's dog. Upstairs another sister studies, as does her father. Now Harmoeni sleeps. Now I sleep. When I wake up it is lunchtime. We sit at a small table moved into the living room for this purpose. We sit on the floor and eat cold noodles. They are delicious. I make broken conversation in both English and Korean. For some reason I ask all my questions in the past tense.

My family is sweet. I won't pretend I can understand even half the things they are saying, but I know — when they laugh together, when Father watches a music video with the daughters, when Oma uses her teasing voice — that this is a family. This afternoon I showed them pictures of my own family. I told them ages and names. Harmoeni told me via Oma that I should tell my parents not to be sad because my family here is very good. So, Mom, Dad, don't worry, my family here is very good.

It's strange after weeks of study and pressure at Jungwon to be thrust back into summer, but that seems to be what has happened. Here vacation has not ended yet and it is too hot to move anyways. The tv is almost always on and we watch or nap on the floor. I'm afraid of getting too used to this feeling when in fact school is starting on Monday. To help me remember I updated my calendar with all my goals for this year — home, teaching, travel and grad school. I've outlined the next steps in the grad school process, found out which festivals happen when, and made plans to join a gym and volunteer at the orphanage. It's just a few words on the screen, but it makes me feel better, more grounded.

The first meeting with my co-teachers yesterday was euphoric and chaotic. Before leaving Jungwon we held a ceremony, much like the placement ceremony, in which our provinces and then the names and schools of the ETAs in that province were called. In the brief pause between our names being called and our formal bows we were supposed to search for our co-teachers in the crowd. Often co-teachers or principles would find us, running to the front of the room to offer flowers, baskets, even confetti. I was smiling the whole time, mostly with the enjoyable adrenaline of a performance, but I was still a little sad and nervous when my name produced no flowers or anxious administrators. When the ceremony ended I was supposed to escort my principle and co-teacher to lunch, but I had no idea who they were. However, I was quickly approached by two smiling co-teachers who told me they had missed their chance to run to the front. They offered flowers and took pictures, but mostly I was relieved to find them such friendly (and young) people. Apparently yesterday was the first day of school so my principle had not been able to come pick me up. Of my co-teachers, one was a young man who teaches 3rd graders and one was a young woman who teaches 1st grade. The latter is my Fulbright co-teacher which means she looks out for me and helps me feel settled throughout the year. She is very kind and told me "even if not all days are good, I will be there with you every day." Both co-teachers were kind and reassuring, but they were also something I hadn't expected — they were funny. I think somewhere in orientation I forgot that maybe some parts of teaching would be fun — actual fun, not just the rewards of hard work. Honestly, together my co-teachers reminded me of a Kpop duo, or drama stars. Perhaps I was just that bedazzled yesterday, but I liked them a lot.

Writing 'yesterday' is very odd, since I'm sure I've been here at least 3 days already. I'm sure I feel this way partially because my Oma discovered I have a cold and so has been giving me cold medicine which makes me sleepy. Oma and Harmoeni were very concerned so I have also had a ginseng drink and been told to eat lots since that will make me better as well. Right now I feel very childlike — unable to really leave the house without getting lost. Oma has been taking special care of me — cutting up my food in case I don't use chopsticks well. I don't mind the feeling so much now as I'm sure it will pass quickly. My role here is, I suppose, only half-childlike since my Oma explained I will also be responsible for my own laundry and bathroom care. Thus we drove to Lotte Mart for me to buy detergent, toilet paper (or tissue here), socks, and anything else I realized I didn't have. My room here is small, but has one of only two beds in the house. My host sisters sleep on futons in the bedroom downstairs. I have also been invited to use the upstairs study room which is air conditioned and therefore wonderful.

The house is maybe not what I expected. In fact I expected an apartment since I know that is the most common form of housing in Korea. Instead I am in a little neighborhood next to the school in a lovely little two-story. The inside is spotlessly clean and meticulously decorated. Anytime anyone comes in or out, or food is eaten, Oma is there to wipe the surface spotless again. The living room is done up with wood-style flooring, bronze floral wallpaper and vases of fake roses and sunflowers. The room is elegant, but made comfortable by the electric fan and constant invitation to sit on the floor. Usually the tv is playing one drama or another which we all half-watch. Just being around everyone makes me feel more like this is home. The fact that I'm going to be here for a whole year, well, I am letting that settle slowly into that deep place below the waves of daily life.

GUMI (구미) — TURTLE TAIL CITY

Tuesday I found out that I am going to spend the next year of my life in Gumi, Gyeongsangbuk-do, South Korea. Gumi is a suburban town of about 300,000 people and is known as Korea's industrial center, the home of both Samsung and LG. Happily for me, Gumi is only a 30 minute bus ride from Daegu (the 4th largest city in Korea) where one of my friends, Sophia, was placed.

Being in Gumi means I have all the community of a smaller town, but with all the opportunity of a large city. One of my main requests for placement was the ability to travel and Gumi is connected to all the rest of Korea through the rail and express bus system. I can be in Seoul in 3 hours and Gwangju in 3 and a half. I was excited to find out Gumi is also the home of Samsungwon orphanage, birthplace of Kkoom, a nonprofit dedicated to improving the lives of Korean orphans through outreach and education. I want to use this opportunity to bring service into my life in Korea in a big way.

In Gumi I'm going to teach at a public, co-ed middle school of about 700 students. Until I am actually at the school I won't know more about the actual number of students I'm teaching or my teaching schedule. However, I'm already envisioning the many art projects and activities I want to work into my lessons. I also won't know whether I'm teaching from a textbook and what my homestay family is like until I actually arrive in Gumi.

In my year I hope to develop my independence through writing and traveling. I hope to develop my humility, my generosity, my perseverance through working with my students and volunteering. But I also hope to be watchful for the unexpected moments and events which can be more transformational than anything I myself could plan. So I am excited to discover what Gumi has in store for me.

As I write this I am, of course, sitting in a cafe eating a delicious 컵빙수 (batbingsu in a cup). This one is ice, rice cake (yum!), red beans, pinneaple, peach, and condensed milk — delicious. We just got our stipend for the next week so I can afford to escape Jungwon again. Not that the building is so horrible, but with 4 hours of Korean class each morning and lesson planning to look forward to all afternoon a change of scenery is not just welcome, but necessary. I've tried a couple of the cafes in Goesan now and I admire this one for its large windows and acoustic 90s music.

Today I have a special mission. Besides catching up on my blogging I need to memorize a speech for Korean class. This speech is 20% of our grade based on fluency and intonation. I've been doing pretty well with accuracy, but speaking on the spot is not my strong suit. Just glad this is memorization and not improvisation. Wish me luck!