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.

TAIPEI PART III: the Maokong Mountains

By far, the best thing we did in Taiwan was our journey to the end of the MRT line and the gondola across the Maokong Mountains. It was our last day in Taipei and taking the gondola was a whim, a small dot at the end of the map next to the Taipei Zoo. I'm not sure I mentioned before, but the Taipei metro system is quite beautiful. The line to the zoo is elevated, much like the L in Chicago. As we sat on the train for the twenty minutes it took to reach the end of the line I felt so peaceful, tall houses and trees gliding by.

The last stop was full of small children and high school couples visiting the Zoo on a Saturday afternoon. We passed them by and continued three or four blocks to the gondola which was only 50 TWD each way (about $1.75). I had expected the gondola to go from the bottom to the top of a mountain. What we found instead was a trip across several mountain peaks traveling about 4 kilometers above the tree tops. It was a misty kind of afternoon, just cool enough to have us wearing sweaters, and the view from the gondola carriage was breathtaking. If I thought the train was peaceful, it was nothing to the meditative feel of riding the gondola. It was heading on to late afternoon by this time so that, as we rounded one peak the mountains would be suddenly suffused in gold.

We finally disembarked to find ourselves in a small cliffside village. Half-farming town, half carnival I wished we had had more time to spend there. Between fields and orchards were wedged numerous tea houses, hiking paths and sweets stalls. Feeling in the spirit I bought a large bag of cotton candy as we wandered along the only street in town.

Maokong Tea Houses

The fields, the foods and then the fall.

If we had brought stronger shoes and warmer clothes we might have wandered onto the hiking paths, leading off to more temples and tea houses, but the day was cooling quickly. As we walked further it felt like drifting into the realm of Spirited Away. Stairs disappearing into leaves led up and down in every direction and next to the road — rainboots in tree branches and overgrown motorbikes. If not Spirited Away then at least we saw something akin to Forster's India, whose jungle swallows everything with no thought of civilization.

Our final stop was a tea house, clutched at the bottom of a long stairwell. It was there we learned that we were in the town of Mucha and that this mountain, and all the others around it, is famous for green tea. All those fields we passed, along the road and in the gondola, were tea fields. At the cafe we were able to try hot tea, tea cakes, tea souffle and tea ice cream. The owner of the cafe is a baker whose dream is to bring the flavor of Mucha, his hometown, to the world. Sitting in the chill air of the cafe, sipping the scalding tea which made that small town famous will surely be one of my strongest memories of Taiwan.

The Mucha Tea House.

TAIPEI PART II: City Life

I've heard that no city can be truly beautiful unless it conjoins a body of water. This is why cities like Amsterdam, Paris, London, Venice, are said to stick in the minds of those who visit them. Taipei holds true to this saying, bounded on two sides by river banks, but for me the true beauty of Taipei stemmed from its mountain boundaries.

Our second or third day in Taipei we were able to get an amazing view of all the city from the top of Taipei 101. Taipei 101 is second tallest building in the world and, since it was built on an island, is designed to withstand hurricanes. It was interesting to learn just a modicum of the knowledge behind this physical feat when we visited the structure. You see, the Taipei 101 has inside it essentially a giant ball suspended by steel cords and struts. This ball or damper absorbs and distributes the movement generated when wind hits the tower, reducing the stress on the rest of the building. Inside the tower we got to see a short video of the damper's actual movement during a hurricane.

Taipei 101

It actually took us ages to get to the tower because we underestimated its size. We had gone to lunch at a dim sum place downtown and when we came outside we could see Taipei 101 on the horizon — maybe 3 or 4 blocks we thought, a quick walk, see the tower and we can find something else to do for the rest of the afternoon. 40 minutes later we were still walking and the tower didn't look closer. Deceptive building. Although finally we did get there of course.

Once in the building you can pay to take the high-speed elevator up to the 89th floor. There is of course, no other option for going up to the 89th floor and while the ticket is a little pricey it is money well spent. Once you are on the 89th floor you have a beautiful view of Taipei. They also have bathrooms, a cafe, a gift shop and access to the 88th floor, where you can learn about the building's construction, and the rooftop, with an even more stunning view of the city.

View from Taipei 101's 89th floor.

Sunset from Taipei 101.

Taipei was very urban and it showed in the intersections filled with motorbikes, in the plethora of suits and in the availability of things like 'the Spot' Cinema which daily shows art films from around the globe. I don't particularly see the charm of the big city myself — the medium or small city seems just fine to me — but going to 'the Spot' reminded me of the assets of the big city, the availability of things like an art cinema and the multicultural atmosphere. At 'the Spot' we saw the only English-language film available — Nebraska.

'The Spot'

Taipei Traffic

As much as I enjoyed this urban side of life, after three days of city walking I was ready to get out and see something beyond skyscrapers.

TAIPEI PART I: Monuments and Markets

We arrived in Taipei in the evening without light and quite tired. From the airport we took a shuttle bus to the central district where we were staying and pretty nearly collapsed into the hotel room, not forgetting, of course, to buy one of Taiwan's iconic bubble teas along the way.

Taipei Streets

Getting out of the hotel the next day and the next few days I was impressed and intrigued by Taipei's size and cleanliness, by its spacious parks and shuffling markets, by its peculiar newness and oldness. There is a strange disconnect in Taipei's gorgeous national theater, its awesome memorial to leader Chiang Kai Shek, its Palace Museum. These buildings are not old, but were built to carry something old, to bring something old to a new place, in the process creating something new. I know embarrassingly little about the politics of Taiwan and China, but I can appreciate the intricacies of cultural monuments in a country that claims two births.

Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall

National Concert Hall

Most of the time as we explored Taipei by foot or subway the city did not feel crowded. Built right into the mountain feet the air in Taipei was incredibly fresh, impressively so for a city of that size. I loved the airiness of the buildings there — not having a real winter so many restaurants, cafes, businesses opened onto the streets. All around the high rise apartments had sprouted trees and flowers from roofs and balconies. Even walls there wore vegetation.

Living wall on an office building

Taipei apartments: downtown

That airy quality only changed in the evenings, if you happened to stumble into one of Taipei's famous night markets — a feat we managed quite purposefully and frequently. The night markets are famous, they are ubiquitous, and they deserve every bit of praise they have every received. They literally transform the streets of Taipei, like some kind of architectural performance art. It was at night at the markets, more than in the day, that I felt I was seeing the full range and texture of Taipei's population. Imagine (you will have to imagine as I couldn't force myself to take pictures in that throng), imagine thirty or sixty streets tucked behind the main roads of Taipei. Imagine the movement of hundreds of people funneling north, south, east, west, stopping, being carried along. Imagine the slow and impenetrable rush of the central market and the sudden exhale, the giddiness of the side street where you find yourself — unbelievably — free. It was beautiful, overwhelming — I can't believe it goes on every day. And I haven't even told you about the food yet.

We ate steamed buns filled with meat, steamed buns filled with vegetables; pancakes with custard, pancakes with red bean; fried sweet potato, fried cabbage omelet — fried anything — and delicious syrup coated strawberries on a stick. We ate so much our first night at the market I can hardly remember. There is one food however, that I will never forget, despite not having tasted a bite; there is nothing like walking lazily through the market and suddenly catching a whiff of stinky tofu. It's smell is truly singular and while I believe that the taste might be worth it, I was not tempted to eat any myself.

Taipei Day Market

Though I failed to snap a picture of the night market, we were lucky enough to see two other types of Taipei markets during our stay. The first was a day market only a few blocks from our hotel. It offered fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, and a few miscellaneous, but necessary, goods such as flowers and foot massages (yes, you can get a foot massage at the market, but no, I did not). The second market began around Taipei's City God Temple and traveled on for several streets selling candies, lanterns, nuts, dried fruit, dried fish, dried (I think) sea cucumber, chinese herbal medicine and brightly colored envelopes — everything and anything you could ever dream of needing to celebrate the lunar new year. Although I loved the night markets I think this market, with its red and gold, its atmosphere of festivity and anticipation, was my favorite.

City God Market

I'm now at home and my host family is preparing for the Lunar New Year. For Koreans also it is one of the biggest holidays of the year, more important, I was told, than Chuseok. So we are buying socks to give as gifts and Thursday my host mom will cook copious amounts of food for Friday's celebration. We even received a New Year's gift set as a valued customer at the local store — beautifully boxed and wrapped Spam. Happy New Year everyone!

JOURNEY TO THE WEST

In two days I will be flying to Taipei. One day ago I booked the flight. Two days ago I thought all my travel plans might be cancelled. Why? Because three days ago my friend and I finally decided the situation in Bangkok right now is too unstable to warrant our traveling there. If you haven't been following the situation in Bangkok, which is not surprising as there hasn't been much media coverage, here's a brief layman's summary:

About a month ago the Thai government attempted to pass a bill that would give former Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra amnesty from prosecution for any past crimes (Thaksin is currently in self-exile due to the corruption charges against him; the current Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra is his sister). This bill spurred a large protest movement centered in Bangkok that has been calling for the current Prime Minister to step down and for her replacement by an un-elected people's council. The situation has been exacerbated as the Prime Minister called for elections (which she would likely win due to a large rural support base) in February. Though violence hasn't officially broken out there have been shots fired, people injured around protests and police have used tear gas to disperse large groups. Protests are set to resume this Monday, January 13th, and this time protesters hope to shut down the entire city of Bangkok by occupying main intersections around the city center. Further complicating the situation is the Thai military which has a history of successful and unsuccessful political coups and will be entering the city in force January 18th for an Army Day Parade. [Note: this is my personal understanding, gleaned from various new sources, and is not meant to be taken as an official report of any kind.]

So, although the situation is not, and may not become, violent and although protesters are not targeting tourists or tourist attractions, the unpredictability of the situation and increased difficulty of transportation around the city seemed too large a risk for us at the moment. I know some of my friends are still traveling to Bangkok around this time and I hope everything goes smoothly for them.

Luckily, my friend and I were able to do a quick turnaround, cancel our flights and re-book a trip Seoul - Taipei - Hanoi - Seoul, allowing us to arrive in Hanoi the same day we had planned originally. Even more luckily the cost was only a little more than our original trip and the flight cancellation fees minimal compared to what they might have been for a flight in the U.S..

So now we're going to Taipei and Hanoi! We will be in Taipei the 15th to the 19th and Hanoi the 19th to the 25th. I'm beyond excited and so relieved that our plans were saved in such a way. And like my friend said 'Blessing in disguise?' I'm sure Bangkok would have been wonderful, but now we have the chance to explore Taiwan, a place I might never have visited otherwise (not from disinterest of course, but the usual lack of knowledge, time and money). Besides that I got a spark of spontaneity.

Now I'm ready to enjoy some 70 degree weather, to take pictures, to learn, explore and eat, and to report back to all of you when I return!

CHRISTMASTIME IS HERE

Though Christmas has come and gone I wanted to share a few of the photos from my time at home (which you can read more about here). For the first time I had a good excuse to photograph every detail of our Christmas celebrations and I really enjoyed it.

The winter house.

Hot cocoa and cookies by the fire.

Christmas Eve with family and the second smallest Christmas tree ever.

Christmas Morning — coffee, fruit and baked pecan french toast.

Every year our family walks to the beautiful Como Conservatory to see the Christmas flower show and every year it's gorgeous.

Of course, most of the time I was home Minnesota was having record low temperatures, as low as -26F, with one surprising 40 degree day thrown in. We still managed to have a lot of fun though with walking, skating and playing games indoors. We also went to see the movie Frozen which was one of the best disney movies I've seen in a long time. It had a lot in common with the classic childhood cartoons that lived and breathed on plentiful singing and comic characters.

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.