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. 

FAMILY

I haven't checked in for quite a while and part of the reason behind this is that my family came to visit me in Korea. I was beyond thrilled and spent the better half of this semester masterminding a highly detailed 10 day itinerary for their trip.

I met them in Seoul on a Friday night and we stayed there until Sunday when we traveled to Gumi (my host city). In Seoul I mostly stuck to my favorite places — the National Museum, Insadong, Hongdae — but we also tried out a few new things. Best new discovery: the National Gugak Center (국립 국악원, gukrip gugakwon) has 1 hour live concerts of traditional Korean music every Saturday at 3pm. The best part? The tickets cost as little as 10,000 won. We saw court music, scholars music, a contemporary jazz piece composed for the Korean bamboo flute and an energetic drum dance. The only downside? No pictures allowed. 

Galbi (grilled marinated beef) dinner with my family and host family!
From left to right: My dad, host mom, Chaerin (host sister), Saeran (host sister), host aunt, host cousin, my brother, me, my mom, host grandma, host cousin

 We stayed in Gumi just two days as my family met my host family — a wonderful experience — and visited some of my classes. My students had to make questions for my parents. I can't decide which wins first prize: "Do you have a gun?" or "You're handsome, aren't you?" (directed to my father).

Busan night view, Haeundae beach, our first night

After Tuesday I was free for the week so we traveled to Busan, a nearby coastal city and also the second largest city in Korea. We stayed at Haeundae Beach, a popular tourist area, and took the City Tour Bus around to other landmarks like Taejongdae, Jagalchi Market and BIFF Square. If you've been to Busan, but haven't taken the City Tour I encourage you to do so. These double-decker buses (varying in quality from brand-new open-air to enclosed express bus style) will take you to every landmark in the city on a continuous figure-eight. For only 10,000 won you can get on and off as many times as you want, anywhere in the city all day. A great way to see a lot without struggling through a lot of subway or bus connections. 

Busan continued to drizzle, but we made the best of it

The other highlight of Busan has to be Spaland. We went to Spaland on the 7th day of our travels when everyone was starting to get grimy and correspondingly annoyed. I love jimjilbangs and have been to a couple that match Spaland for number of different relaxation rooms, saunas, and baths, but while including all these things, Spaland is far and away the most beautiful jimjilbang I have ever been to. The only drawback is the time limit of 4 hours (which can be extended to 6 if you spend at least 10,000 won inside the spa). I was a bit nervous how my family would feel about the totally naked baths (gender segregated of course), but they all loved it. In fact later in the trip whenever we were feeling tired, someone would always say, "Why don't we go to a jimjilbang?

Cheomseongdae, a Silla dynasty observatory, Gyeongju

After Busan we traveled on to Gyeongju, a much smaller town which is nonetheless a huge tourist destination for its multitude of historical landmarks. I'm not sure what we might have done if it rained, but thankfully the weather held out and we went walking, bicycling and hiking everyday there. We were staying in a traditional (hanok) style guesthouse and the cozy atmosphere was just right for the end of our trip. Almost too cozy as at first we couldn't even find the place. It wasn't until we took a taxi, walked in the rain with our suitcases and were picked up by a kind Korean man that we managed to find the place. In fact, I just asked this man for directions on the street because he looked friendly, but he took us into his stationary store where he read our map with a magnifying glass and then offered to drive us there in his car. Although it wasn't a situation you want to deal with when traveling I'm really glad my family got to see how kind Koreans can be. 

Bicycling in Gyeongju 

Visiting the remains of a fortress, burned by invaders

Hiking Namsan, known for numerous buddhist statues and cliff carvings

Since it was my birthday right before they arrived, my family brought my present with them — a new digital camera. My old camera was falling apart and the new one has some very cool functions including a hybrid video/photo mode. I used this hybrid mode to film some highlights from our trip and put them together to make the video below. Hope you enjoy it!

KOREAN WINTER: may you take many good things in the new year

I celebrated the start of my first Korean winter and the end of my first Korean semester by going home. As part of my contract I am only allowed to be in the U.S. for 14 days and I wondered whether the hours and money spent traveling would be worth it. However, I celebrated Christmas away from home once before, three years ago now, when I was studying abroad in the Netherlands. Three years ago when I met my dear friends from South Korea and three years ago when I said goodbye to all of them on New Years Day for what could have been the last time. It was a beautiful Christmas that year. I was staying with a friend in Vienna, had arrived with her in Vienna by night bus the morning of the 23rd. That day we went to every Christkindlmarkt in the city before traveling to her parent's house for Christmas Eve at their Catholic Church. Yet as lovely as it was I promised myself it would be the last Christmas I spent away from home.

That's why this year found me tucked away in St. Paul, sleeping, hanging ornaments, and helping my Dad prepare the Christmas pudding. My 14 days at home were entirely unexciting and in that way, quite perfect. I napped, drank tea, played cards and napped again. I was able to see some friends from high school and re-read The Golden Compass. It was all so peaceful I could hardly muster myself to leave. I had known that leaving again would be difficult. I was not prepared for the difficult happiness of returning, of hearing my host mother's voice on the phone in Incheon airport — "baliwa bogoshipo; hurry come, I miss you."

There are some moments, said Mrs. Dalloway, "exquisite moments...such as might stay a diver before plunging while the sea darkens and brightens beneath him." My brother has written a paper on Mrs. Dalloway, a book I have yet to read, but am starting now at his recommendation. I read his paper on the flight from Tokyo-Narita to Seoul-Incheon. It must have got me thinking because, sitting down on the provincial bus at 6:50 am, I felt such a moment as Mrs. Dalloway describes. Not as soon as I sat, but when, after beginning to move, the lights of the bus finally flickered off illuminating in the windows the dull-gray moving picture of the Korean countryside. I felt a sudden peace and excitement in the misty Han river, the blue glow of lights around the driver, the quiet breathing of passengers falling to sleep, and the warmth of the soles of my boots resting on the heater so that, though I have never understood people who prefer nighttime to the day, I hoped that the dawn might take its time.

The moment quoted from Mrs. Dalloway comes as said lady enters her house after buying flowers. For her also there is the sudden darkening of the world around her and below that the sense of the familiar. I had believed that my leaving Korea was a clear trade, that by seeing my family again I would make myself both happy and sad — happy at the time, but with a renewed sense of our distance on my return to Korea. I was unprepared to be accosted by a similar sense of joy in reuniting with the things that make up my Korea. Like Mrs. Dalloway entering her house, like someone in a suddenly darkened room I am discovering again what has become familiar, discovering the shape of my home in Korea. It is larger and more solid than I imagined — full of buses, phone calls, moments lost and moments gained.

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?

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.

Jikjisa (직지사) — Exploring Buddhism

On the Saturday of our Chuseok break my family and I drove to Gimcheon, a nearby city, in order to eat a delicious seafood soup and visit Jikjisa, a famously large and beautiful Buddhist temple. Jikjisa is, according to my Oma, the largest temple in our province (Gyeongsangbuk-do) and will soon be the largest in Korea if they keep building more (which they are doing). Our first stop in Gimcheon was at a tiny downtown eatery for lunch. The two room diner was packed with people and as far as I could tell only sold two things — mandu (delicious dumplings) and seafood soup. Both were delicious, though I admit I had to give myself a pep-talk before eating the mussel-looking-things. Spicy food in Korea is fine, it's the seafood I'm getting used to.

After lunch we went for a short walk around a nearby lake picked up some iced americanos and were on our way. Not before we all had fun teasing host dad who just bought fancy new shoes and was leaning against a tree drinking his americano. Then we drove to Jikjisa.

The front entrance to Jikjisa.

I was a little full and feeling a little disappointed after hearing that my host sisters and Aboji had seen Jikjisa too often and weren't going to go in with us. However, the temple was well worth it and I had more time to talk with Oma.

Here we are in front of one of the decorated doors.

Jikjisa was similar in style to other Buddhist temples I have seen in Korea. It was also more touristy, with a small fee for entry and several gift shops and restaurants on the grounds. Despite this visiting Jikjisa was a spiritual experience and a high point in my Chuseok week. If Jikjisa is full of tourists it is for good reason. Walking through the various archways and temples complex brightly colored designs jumped out from every corner, some darkened and peeling with age. I felt I was seeing two Jikjisas at once - Jikjisa as it must have been when it was first built, as it still is now, brilliant, and the Jikjisa that has stood on this spot for hundreds of years to appear now, darkened and mysterious.

Giant wood-carved statues greet us on either side as we enter the grounds.

Buddhist temples are always surprising to me. I have loved churches for their emptiness, the sense of being very small, of being pressed upon by so much air. It is a surprise to enter a Buddhist temple where every wall and ceiling is a mirage of moving colors and figures. In Jikjisa the main temple room is not large and its doors sit open to the breeze. There is a sense of lightness and yet all around a multitude of lotus lanterns hanging from the ceiling and buddhas watching from the wall. There is such a feeling of abundance, that there is always more and you are just a small point in that multitude. I have never been overwhelmed by a building in quite the same way before.

Looking out from the temple building.

Lotus lanterns.

Altar and incense.

The multitude.

 It was such a peaceful, happy afternoon that I promised myself, before I leave Korea I will do a temple stay, though I will probably choose somewhere a little quieter than Jikjisa. Many temples open their doors to visitors for a weekend or even weeks during the holidays. I look forward to spending a winter or spring weekend enjoying the temple's abundant silence.

An afternoon goodbye.

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.

MILESTONES: ONE MONTH IN GUMI

I just read a blog post by my good friend Anna who is now studying yoga in Mysore, India. We both studied English Lit at Hendrix, but we also both needed a second major to round out our interests. Anna is an amazing writer and I would encourage anyone interested in India or travel in general to read her blog, balancing the world. Her meditations on life in Mysore capture the sounds and smells of that specific place, but also the general feeling of traveling. Living in a foreign country one can feel frustrated or lost — always on the cusp of inclusion but never included, always listening but lacking understanding. I've heard other Fulbrighters mention this feeling as well, a kind of malaise of communication. I myself have been lucky in that my family and the teachers at my school speak English admirably well.

This last week and a half I have felt more included than ever before: I visited my co-teacher's home and played with her 3 adorable children, brought home Baskin Robins and ate it with my host family to celebrate my first month in Gumi, met up with a Fulbright friend for coffee and gossip, and attended orientation for mentoring a North Korean Defector. It's been a very busy time as my relationships here begin to blossom.

My co-teacher's daughter and harmonica.

The first time I met my co-teacher she told me "Not all days will be good, but every day I will be with you." At the time it was highly reassuring and now, a month later, I know that she meant it. We share an office together at school, taking coffee breaks between our classes. We've also been taking walks behind the school when we find the time, but going to meet her family was a new step. My co-teacher has a daughter who is ten in Korean age (8 in American age) and two twin girls who are 2 in Korean age (20 months in American age). Since my co-teacher and her husband both work her mother stays with them during the week to take care of the twins. The twins talk to each other in a secret whistling language no one else can understand. One twin is a little stronger and more confident. She tries to take my earrings. The other twin is a little smaller, a little warier. She cries when her grandma is far away. Yet she's also musical, always burbling in her strange language and tapping her feet. Their older sister is in elementary school but seems older, acquiring some maturity from caring for her sisters. She loves swimming and riding her bike. I stayed overnight and hope to go back again soon.

Afogato: vanilla ice cream, rolled in almond slivers, smothered in an espresso shot.

Last weekend marked an important date — the anniversary of my first month in Gumi. I had hoped to get out a bit and hike Geumo Mountain. However, it stormed most of the weekend ruining my outdoors plans. Instead, on Saturday I took a train to the nearby Gyeongsan to visit my friend Sophia. I ended up meeting her host family then going out for coffee/desserts. We meant to do work while drinking coffee (in fact I meant to catch up on blogging) but instead we talked the whole time filling each other in on our own situation in Korea and those of our friends. It left me refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of the week before Chuseok.

Sunday I ventured into Daegu for the North Korean Defector volunteer orientation. A North Korean Defector is (according to the South Korean Government) someone who has left North Korea, but still has some tie there such as an occupation, a home, a family and does not have any other citizenship. According to South Korea's Ministry of Unification, since 2008 almost 3,000 people defected to South Korea each year, the majority of them women. This number has fallen to almost half in 2012 most likely due to the death of Kim Jong-il resulting in stricter border control (to be clear, this is secondhand information from my orientation coordinator at the Hana Center).

Since arriving in Korea I have attended several talks about North Korean defectors (during and after Fulbright orientation). What motivated me to volunteer, though there are so many reasons to do so, was that on top of all the practical difficulties of arriving in South Korea from the North, these people often face exploitation along the way. There are several routes to get to the South, but the most commonly used route is by foot and bus through China, then a combination of Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia into Thailand. Once in Thailand the defector goes to the South Korean Embassy and announces that she is a North Korean defector. Then she is kept in custody of the Embassy until paperwork is finished at which point she is sent on a plane to South Korea. In South Korea she is immediately picked up by South Korean intelligence officials and thoroughly interviewed — both to gain information and to ascertain that she is not a spy.

However, for many women this path ends, or takes a long detour, in Northern China where many women become subject to sex trafficking or forced marriages due to the imbalance of the sexes in this area. This also means many women arriving in South Korea arrive with half-Chinese children whose status' are particularly difficult to ascertain.

Our role as volunteers will be to act as mentor and English tutor for the defectors now living in Daegu. Each teacher will be assigned a mentee to meet with once a week for English lessons. However, on top of these English lessons we are encouraged to meet outside of 'class' time and have fun as a way of promoting cultural exchange. There will also be a fun group event each month that we are strongly encouraged to attend. Though it will be difficult for me to meet too often due to the commute time to Daegu I still hope I will have the opportunity to get to know my mentee and make her feel a bit more comfortable in her new home.

On my way home, feeling pleased with myself for successfully taking the train to Daegu, I picked up a pint of Baskin Robins for the family. (Baskin Robins is wildly popular here.) Seeing their happily surprised faces was great, but eating mint chip and quarterback crunch together was even better.

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

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.