People- large crowds outside waiting for buses, restaurants, hospital waiting rooms: People are quiet. Not silent, but quiet. Well behaved.
We are not being stared at as much as we were warned: I think, overall, we're being sort of glanced at then ignored on the street; like we would be in any busy city. At the same time, when an interaction is made, the people are polite, helpful, compassionate, and friendly.
The food is amazing. All the ingredients taste so fresh, the recipes thoughtful. There is a perfect amount of spice in the popular red pepper paste used in Kimchi and a lot of other things. They even show up America on their own classics: Last night we ate spaghetti and a b.l.t. at a stinking adorable cafe and the food was in every way perfect... carefully prepared and sweetly presented by the same woman that took our order. This small restaurant contained many interesting books, two guitars, a piano, and John Denver music played overhead as we ate- though the woman spoke no english, she seemed very pleased to serve us. The furniture was solid, simple, and artfully handmade; Kevin made some sketches to possibly recreate them in the wood shop.
Then, there is the school. The private academy (*hagwan*) is a two minute walk from our apartment and once inside the doors I feel an entirely different energy. These children are good students, devoted students- but they are still very much kids. They love to laugh, the brave ones talk over each other and answer english essays with a sense of humor- the shy ones smile at their antics and blush and giggle when they are asked to go to the board. They are terrific. I expect some awkwardness in about half the classrooms in the beginning: I am taking over another teacher's place, and they will miss her. But I think this will be the happiest year of my life so far, with these amazing kids to talk with as work, this mindblowing cuisine, and a million places and things to discover.