A Summer's Excerpt

So, suddenly, summer vacation once again exists. It is only a few days, but the break sounds lovely. Kevin and I were planning to explore Busan at this time originally, a rather large city by the sea, but for a few reasons we've decided instead to stick closer to home and maybe have daily excursions while saving money and allowing me more opportunity to catch up where I've been slacking in my studies. This means I have a to-do list for my vacation, and, if you are wondering, it looks something like this:

-Study Korean language (numbers, phrases of inquiry, places and people)

-Spend at least two hours each day on TEFL course

-Send 4th graders' letters to America (Include personal greetings to the grownups)

-Do something I haven't yet done each day

That last one was Kevin's brilliant idea to make our vacation interesting... Hopefully it will lead to new exciting stories soon to come... instead of something like "napped in new corner of the apartment"... "ate a new flavor of World Cone".... ; )

And anyway, last weekend was enough bliss to last me a while. We were treated to a bus ride, then a ferry ride to an island city called Wando which is just gorgeous. We made new friends, had a relaxing type of adventure, and I place this trip now high on the shelf of good memories. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever had such a flawless day as this Saturday. It was warm but overcast so not too hot, and a kind sprinkle came and went with gentle rumbling. Craft hour, group net fishing, a million tiny crabs, tiny brown eggs on chopsticks, sunscreen, tourguides, bus singing, cool water, foot rinsing, a quick alley party, the prettiest kitchen window view ever. I got to know some new friends better. I got to meet some new people, four in particular, whom I seriously hope to keep in touch with. I swam in sparkling clear water. Above me was a giant shiny sky full of boastful clouds. Little islands and giant rocks surrounded me. Old wooden boats rocked pleasantly in the harbor, making little groans with the soft waves. In the starlight I heard stories from strangers. We talked about love, music, misconceptions, families, life in Korea, schools, politics, and bikes. Mostly, we laughed. I swam more. There was an otter spotting! It was just glorious.

Then, two nights ago, on a Wednesday, two teenagers helped me find my new friend and guitar sage, Mr. Cho, and his tea shop. It was small and dimly lit, smelling of incense. Eight guitars were sprawled around, an upright piano sat uncomfortably in the far corner feeling too fat for the joint. Mr. Cho ordered wings and noodles to be delivered. He took me next door and let me poke around the 100 yr. old house he is remodeling to move his business into. His woodwork is as beautiful as his songs. Mr. Cho indicated there were fish in a large, cloudy fish tank I almost kicked because it was hidden in the tall grass... but I have no doubt I will see them in two months' time swimming in a little pond once the grassy lot becomes a garden and the old shack becomes a beautiful teahouse filled with music. Ah, Korea- you don't play when it's time to get work done or make things pretty! I spent 4 hours there making and enjoying sweet music with Mr. Cho and 15 or so regulars and friends of his. His older brother, a jazz pianist, was equally impressive. A momma, a soon-to-be momma, their gents, four christians (my favorite in a fishing hat), two female artists, one interior designer and one painter, and a few older gentlemen made up the guest list-- and all we did was sing and play and eat a few pieces of chicken. Nice, nice.

It's all so nice sometimes.

lookit! videos, too! i'm purty advanced for a luzianna gal!

got a potato cooking...

it's 1:33 am, oh dear- how's time flying like this? almost another payday, too (woo-hoo)

that means we're hitting month 4? no way!

it's getting more and more fun, too. oh, and busy. i'm doing the online certification course-- although i really should spend more time on it as that it has an expiration date... but when i do get to it, i find it to be helpful for planning. i'm also taking a korean language course two days a week for 7 weeks... they call it beginner's but the teacher moves pretty quickly: fingers crossed that i can keep up.

also, summer semester just began, which means i have a few new classes and a slightly different schedule and new books to boot! today was the first day of that schedule and it was going so remarkably well, by the time i got to my final class i was all kinds of charged with energy and excitement for the lesson plan at hand... but this class happened to consist entirely of brand new students, and i think my energy level scared them more than a little. unfortunately, their somewhat frightened and somewhat bemused faces didn't dampen my teaching fit in the least, and i'm sure they'll be happy to see me on a more normal level on wednesday, anyway.

i've been able to be more social lately-- though i'm missing the german bar. i got in a trivia night, though, with a lovely group of ladies, and some one-on-two time in seoul with some friends from back home (you know, the fancy ones)... made a couple of korean friends, too, finally: helped one prepare for a big english debate (always feels cool to help out).... even made buddies with some local college students over dinner the other night, continued with them to the song room, then kevin wound up trying to carry the drunkest one home.... it was adorable.

and, of course, our new buddy tamara is keeping me all smiles-- shout out, tamz! : )

so it's a shortie- but there's your update, ya buggers. i'm going to eat my potato and call it a night.

*mwah*

on calculating the weight and mass of a mile

it's muggy enough in the apartment tonight that i am reminded of louisiana. outside it's raining a solid asian downpour, and i'm grateful that someone built a small lean-to with a tin roof right outside my window. i know i will sleep like a baby with this lullaby.

meanwhile, we're trying to eat healthy, so i'm fighting off the urge to cook and devour some potatoes right now. the refrigerator is out of order, so the rest of the groceries are unavailable... just some potatoes, some onions, lots of coffee and some spices to be had. there was a box of cereal, too- but the ants found that first. lucky bastards.

i've been terribly moody this week (thank you, kevin, for putting up with me so nicely). this situation- this living abroad thing- seems to hit me in waves. mostly, it's the size of the thing. some days i forget there's anything out of the ordinary in my life. just going to work, having dinner; the usual. then other days i realize the giant stretch of ocean and land that separates me and my last apartment, and a million other familiar things. how is it i wound up here, anyway? and where will i land next??

i've always envied those people who make decisions easily. they go to a restaurant and before they look at the menu they have some idea of what they'll be eating. they go to college and they have a plan of what to study. they graduate and begin pursuing some next step. whereas i seem more to rely on the weather to direct my steps. now, i'm not saying this doesn't work out well for me, in the end. but, man, i think it just must feel great to have some inkling of what you want before it falls into your lap.

nostalgia is a funny thing-

the details our brains choose to hold onto, the insignificant moments that never leave our memory banks... and the strip of wallpaper or the smell of a bubbling pot that suddenly transports you back to another lifetime.

my cousin dee ann has been struggling with a lung disease for a few years now, and had quite a scare with a pretty big infection recently. we're all excited to see her gaining strength by the day now- and it looks like she'll recover from this bout soon enough. hearing this news was one of those things that made the size of my move feel massive.

and anytime i picture her, her head is thrown back and she's laughing hard. she has stunning eyes... like her mother's, and her mother's sisters, and her mother's sister's daughter's, too.

another cousin whom i never got to meet passed away alone in a hotel room recently, much too young. he lived most of his life estranged from his father who wanted quite badly to be there for him, but for reasons out of his control, could not. my heart breaks for my uncle, and for his son. a good person and a loving father- this isn't the easiest thing to come by in life. i often wish that i could have grown up with this man closer by for guidance.

and every time i picture my uncle, he's wearing sunglasses and has a tan from working the boats, and he's taking me to the corner store for ice cream in his smart convertible. he is grinning, and saying wise, encouraging things to a very young me regarding one's general outlook on life; like, enjoy every minute, and, don't sweat the small stuff.

there are many reasons the distance can feel like pain. i have friends getting married and friends having babies and babies turning into children and looking and acting more and more like their parents. i have my own parents with new puppies, and my own pets out there living it up without me! i have people i love dearly going through tough times. for many, many reasons, my longing to be back in the states can be overwhelming some days.

but the other days, i am able to focus on my own present, and hopefully on my own future. granted, i might have to make some decisions for that to happen, but when the waves of nostalgia settle, i am able to think about where my travels might take me, and what opportunities may come from this new job.

i enjoy the crinkles by the eyes of the ajumas. i like shopping for fresh foods at the big market down the street.

i have made friends with some shopkeepers. yesterday, i was walking towards home after work and a neighborhood boy was kicking a soccer ball alone as the sun was setting. without words, still ahead a distance, he kicked the ball to me. i stopped it with my left foot, return kicked with the right. he smiled huge and caught the ball with both hands (guess he was playing goalie) and ran off down the road.

while at a friend's place, three kids with little instruments put on a parade for us, and then we had a water gun show down! i put my feet in a new river. i cheered for korea in the world cup.

i'm learning how to be a disciplinarian. i'm reading a decent book, and have another good one in line. i am a student again. i am not the best writer, and that's okay. i'm not the best musician and that's okay. i'm not the best artist and that's okay. i do these things because i want to... not for outside approval or votes.

life is so small, and so fast, and so incredible. it's supposed to be overwhelming. it's supposed to be elusive. it's supposed to hurt a little now and then.

and later, there will be papaya.

Muses and Musings

When I was young I would spend most summer days running around "exploring" the woods and dirt roads throughout my neighborhood in Wakefield. If you lived in the area and had woods on your property, there's a good chance I've climbed one or two of your trees or skipped a rock on your pond. My favorite spots, fortunately, did belong to my own mom and stepdad, so it was no problem spending all the time I liked down by Thompson Creek and in a particularly hilly spot on the far side of Mom's acreage. Now, 30 and in Korea, I'm back to my old tricks. Don't go worrying, Ma; there's plenty of public property for me to explore here... and besides, civilians don't keep weapons in this country. But I digress.

Anyway I have mentioned her before: Mudung Mountain. Although I keep hearing about the amazingly fresh air to be had on top, both times I've gone, either city smog or nearby fires have affected the air quality. A haze lingered in the air and the sky was overcast when I went this past Sunday- with weather just cool enough to make a fair girl forget to put on sunscreen. I was in the company of two new American buddies, Karla and Meika. They took me to a quaint traditional tea house nestled in a rural area of the mountain, only a step off the beaten path (quite well beaten, in fact- the mountain being such a popular destination for locals and tourists alike.) I learned the proper Korean way to serve and enjoy tea; taking only three or four rounds to master the finish-in-3-sips custom.

Then we walked around some small farms and down a curvy two lane road until we reached a popular traditional Korean garden: The kind created with zen in mind... where poets and philosophers have come for centuries to find harmony in their surroundings so that they can better concentrate on their muses and musings. Unfortunately, that well designed tranquil atmosphere has turned into a sideshow, which means you couldn't sit in one spot and clear your mind anywhere inside this garden today any more than you could at your local shopping mall's food court. All the same, it was pretty cool to see the old masonry, bamboo and clay and stones.... actual fire pits built under floors for heating homes. The place was special, and I particularly enjoyed how it did have a general path to follow, but not a strict one- so we were free to run up this hill or play in the stream. I hunted for cool rocks or ancient artifacts... did find two pieces of broken pottery. It's most likely they are from some bowl recently purchased from the local five-and-ten, but I'm holding on to them just in case.

Next we took a short hike to a sweet resting pavilion that was surrounded by good smelling trees and flowers and such. There was one scent in particular I struggled to place that reminded me of home; after it bugged me long enough, I ran around sniffing every leaf in sight- and although I enjoyed that experience and now feel closer to my friend, Sinoun, who's always enjoyed an acute sense of smell, alas, I never could quite place that aroma. But I did discover wild mint, white jasmine, rose stalks, ants marching sideways, wild red berries, sticky grass, and those white flowers with strong stems we would tie end to end to make jewelry with- remember?

I continue to explore the city streets, as well. When I can't sleep or just have time to kill, I will often just follow the roads downtown and see where they lead. At night you can walk along the river that runs between opposing directions of traffic high above (the swishing sounds of cars and bikes blend nicely with the flowing water) and neon lights stand firmly overhead but move excitedly when reflected. Couples hold hands and whisper, friends lean on each other and giggle loudly. Shop keepers prepare for their customers or prepare to go home, depending on the hour and the business. Dirty independent cats dart between buildings... I have yet to see a rat. I find bottles and unwanted old sandals, mirrors, dressers, and coats piled on street corners, waiting to be claimed by one of the old, bent recycling collectors. Citizens of Gwangju are never hesitant to call a curbside a trashcan, so streets are often cluttered and unkept, but night workers do sweep through regularly so that early morning looks a sight better. It works out for us, though, as that it makes it easier to locate interesting alternative canvases. Sooner or later, we're bound to create something awesome.

But for now, I'm satisfied peeking under rocks and smelling trees- soaking in those things that inspire.

reflections on not taking advice and breaking a promise, and also, my muses

my teeth hurt. no, my jaw and head hurt and they know the teeth are to blame, and the teeth feel guilty. i was told 12 years ago i needed my wisdom teeth removed a.s.a.p., and we've come along this far together with no real problems. isn't it just like a tooth to wait until you're in another country to raise it's hand and tell you it's gotta go! but don't worry, i'm buying some pain killer and putting it off a little longer... i really want these guys to reach their fullest potential.

school is going very well. i'm getting positive feedback from the teachers, kids and my boss. i just finished grading my first speeches, and worked through the struggle of precise judgement on them (i am obsessed with fairness in this area)... so it took longer than it should, but i think it was worth it.

i have always been reluctant to become a teacher despite so many people pushing me in that direction- and i still have a lot of reservations about doing this in the states- but i really do dig the job i have here... and that's the most amazing part of this adventure for me. i have never felt this kind of creative freedom, personal connection, and immediate reward when it comes to the work i've done to pay the bills.

i'm meeting and getting to know new people every week: so that keeps me smiling, too. this situation has led me to interact with so many types of people i just normally wouldn't have ever met or put time in with... and i find the opportunity is making me appreciate those things that make us all unique even more than before. what i mean to say is, when forced to make friends outside of one's natural choices, the resulting diversity and new ways of thinking introduced back and forth can lead to some enlightening and unforgettable experiences.

the music is still going, but less frequently now. i mean, i'm still playing once a week for whoever happens to be at the german bar when i go in... sometimes a few people, sometimes a crowd: i am happiest when it's not all foreigners cause americans and canadians just don't offer a girl trying to share pretty songs the kind attention and applause that the koreans do. but i feel kind of guilty for so quickly abandoning my promise to ruby (that's the guitar) that i would play her every day. ***dear kt, insert your poem here*** but i've recently acquired some new music on the mac and feel inspiration slowly coming to a boil inside... so i hope soon i'll be making new songs.

ps- i probably wore out so fast on that promise because i was focusing on finding popular covers to play every day, and that just felt weird after a while.

kevin and i are also both poised to create some fun art as soon as the time feels right: we have the materials and the trash-turned-canvases... you just wait til that moment strikes! it's gonna be awesome.

by the way, i'm so thrilled every day that kevin and i are getting to do this together. i just wouldn't be having half as much fun without him; the boy is gifted at creating smiles.

that about covers things for now.

as a side note, though, let it be known there isn't fear or panic here at all over the tension with north korea (a lot of you have expressed concern).... every one seems confident that it's being resolved level-headedly and will not be the cause of ww3: i don't know if the american media is exploiting the story for ratings and making it sound scarier than it is, but we're all safe and comfortable here.

well, except for those damned teeth.

just an update

this week i took the 1187. the bus was completely full, so i was standing and giving my best death grip to the handrail, trying not to fall completely onto the other struggling passengers as our bus driver wheeled us rapidly and sternly around each upward curve around Mudeung Mountain. by the time we stopped about halfway up, i was completely nauseous. only a few steps off the bus i was inside a convenience store reminding me of old Satterfield's (the gas station in my hometown years upon years ago). people were sitting around small tables resting with cold drinks and snack foods like salted boiled eggs and squid jerky. i paid for a drink comparable with sprite and a large striped hat, and let my sea legs carry me down the busiest path. this turned out to be 'restaurant row'; along which sat at least ten or fifteen eateries all of which understood well the serenity produced by flat rocks, bare wood, and running water... i will show you pictures later... for now suffice it to say i would gladly sit for an eternity at any of these establishments as long as the weather kept.

the hat, my new best friend, protected me from a rather determined sun as i made my way along a path of rocks alongside a creek bed:

down to the creek. off shoes, off socks, into this bag. the water was freezing. three small girls played in some sitting puddles... tadpoles and baby mosquitos twisting bodies, no doubt. a wooden sign announcing random destinations and their proximity to myself at this spot. i chose the smallest number and followed the arrow. up, up, up, and up. a stairway of dirt, roots, and rocks. fully leaved trees assisted my hat brim's cause. passing couples nodded hello. some ladies were taking this small hike on in heels and sunday dresses. such bravery. i still didn't quite make it to the top before giving up and stepping down, down, down.

also this week:

i got my hair did... i keep finding kind ladies who want to help me over the language barrier.... kevin scooped me up in the German Bar and we devoured some Burger King with Chris, then visited Michelle (and neither were Gerkes, sadly)... i chatted with a korean man named B.J. Park who worked in coal mines in Germany, on the streets of Chicago, and who made and left a family in California... i had mashed potatoes.... i saw Robin Hood and shoe shopped with my new friend.... i found a good book.... i bought two t-shirts... i played music for the crowd, and they all sang along.... i laughed with the kids... i learned a few Korean words... mmmmm.

goodness.

The Best Night of My Life

I was out late last night, nursing jasmine tea and playing online at a 24-hour café downtown suggestively named Tom-and-Toms (inside of which there were both a small gym and a fish-tank smoking section.) Finishing up around 1:30 a.m. I stepped out onto a dark street shimmering with reflected neon signs in puddles formed by a good hour’s worth of rain drizzling from a black sky. After only a few steps toward home I realized the clouds were done fooling around: The day had been sunny and warm, so I was without an umbrella or sleeves and was not looking forward to the hike home in these conditions. That is why I decided to turn in when I saw the sign for the German Bar. I had been told that this was not a bad little business, with musical acts regularly and a decent foreign crowd. I was a little disappointed, though, as I passed through the double doors and realized that the crowd was freshly evacuated: Evidenced by empty and near-empty mugs crowded on most of the tables and cigarette butts pouring over ashtray edges. Only two Korean men remained, leaning together at the bar with drinks and smokes of their own. I guessed immediately that the elder was the bar's owner and the younger his employee. My first thought was to turn on my heels and apologize for intruding after business hours, but they opened their arms and welcomed me loudly and sincerely. Hello! Welcome!

I asked if they would mind serving me a single whiskey while I waited out the rain, and the owner bowed his head slightly while holding a sideways smile and walked around to the front of the bar, pulled out a chair and motioned me over. Once I inquired, this man claimed to be known as Casanova, and his employee answered to Playboy. The man's attitude was joyous, kind, playful and mysterious all at once. He spoke English quite well, and I was thankful to have this moment for some small talk with an interesting stranger.

He told me about his family: "My wife, she looks terrible, but my girlfriend is very pretty"

He told me his children are beautiful, and I asked how old they are- "Not as old as I am," he replied, "And so they are very, very young."

Finally, after feeling I had waited a polite enough amount of time, I asked if I might be allowed to play with the guitar I had noticed on the stage the moment I walked in. There was also a full drum set, an amp, and an electric piano that needed some repair. Of course, he said, and fetched the instrument for me. The fourth string was broken, but he had backups.

I laid the guitar on top of the bar, pushing aside some napkin holders and empty mugs. Mr. Casanova stood across the bar from me for the operation, and, when I asked if he might have pliers around, produced a small box of tools without moving an inch. “Happy to be of service” may be his motto in life… that or “It’s all good”. I don’t believe he ever stops smiling that slightly suspicious grin.

Both men watched me wind the string. Playboy had prepared a Jack on the rocks for me but seemed uncomfortable with the amount of ice he’d included, and twice fished an extra cube from a small bucket with tongs to carry carefully to my glass. Once I had a sip or two and got the guitar in tune, I asked what I could play that they might know. They both seemed eager with suggestions for a moment, but as soon as Mr. Casanova saw I was not from the same America they had piped in through the airwaves, he asked if I would play something of my own. “This is best, always,” he said.

I opened with my song, “Isn’t Any Town”, and when it ended I looked up and found both men completely attentive and breaking into cheers. “You are genius!” Mr. Casanova shouted. “Please more!” Next I played Bobby McGee, A Case of You, and Creep- all receiving enthusiastic applause along with vague familiarity.

Then we had a joiner.

A man walked in with longish hair under a smart green hat like Tom Waits would not shake a stick at. He sat in the chair on the corner between Casanova and myself, and seemed very pleased at our little scene. He had an almost permanent smile also, though more demure. He introduced himself timidly as Mr. Cho. I believe he was Casanova’s brother or cousin. I played more songs; Bizarre Love Triangle, House of the Rising Sun; one or two more of my own, and Mr. Cho constructed a small percussion set out of the napkin holders and mugs with chopstick drumsticks and kept my rhythm, even sang backup now and then. I was quite glad of his addition, and eventually relinquished the guitar to his capable hands. He played with thick calloused fingers, picking professionally and singing with strength and confidence. Beautiful, beautiful. Mr. Cho sang a handful of Korean love songs and tried to play songs for me to sing (oh, yes, at this point Mr. Casanova had grabbed the microphone and set it up between me and Mr. Cho) but I am afraid I let him down on my knowledge of lyrics by Peter Paul and Mary and, sadly, even Elvis Presley. (As a side note, I am continuously surprised by which popular American songs, shows and movies make it this far and which ones don’t- More on that later)

The two of us passed the guitar and the mic back and forth, making each song a duet somehow, although neither backup singer ever knew what the hell we were singing. Mr. Casanova and Playboy did not get back to work or clean up the mess of the missing crowd. No, they listened and clapped and smiled and praised. Mr. Casanova said “This is the best night of my life” a number of times until I conceded his point. Now a couple wondered in from the storm; a tall, pretty Korean woman in a bright yellow shirt and her date who seemed homely and smitten. They came in as I was finishing “Sweet Nothing” with Mr. Cho banging out the beat with his chopsticks. They, too, were happy for the surprise entertainment, and offered to buy me a drink in exchange for another song. Mr. Cho took the guitar and played, finally, a song I knew and knew well- and we rocked out to “What’s Up” by 4 Non-Blondes: When I got to the screaming parts, my female audience screamed with me.

When I played “Albatross”, Mr. Cho was touched and asked me to explain the love story. I began, but his English ears are not so good, and he soon gave up and stopped me, “I don’t understand,” waving his hands in front of him to signal my story’s end, “but I think I understand,” and he pulls both hands in to his chest, covering his heart, and nodding slightly.

Music breathed deeply and freely in the German Bar. Mr. Casanova disappeared into the kitchen twice, returning after a song’s time with a plate of fish and then a plate of eggs cooked with peppers, onions and cheese for Mr. Cho and me. I hopped over to the piano and made tinkering additions to Mr. Cho’s Korean songs. He ran over with the guitar and I played a song or two there on the stage, the piano missing keys.

When we struggled to think of words to a song together, Mr. Casanova pulled up the karaoke equipment and had us look there. We sang You are My Sunshine, Hounddog, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Friends in Low Places, House of the Rising Sun (again), a couple of Dylan tunes, Proud Mary… how I wish I could remember them all. I wish I could remember every tiny detail of this magical night.

Mr. Casanova never ceased his praise. He said he wants me to come back Friday and Saturday to play and meet some people. “I will introduce you! I have more friends than you!” he said laughing. “But my friends will be your friends. Maybe you come here every night. I will make you dinner- and if I am here, you do not pay for things. If it’s my staff, different story, but me- you are free”

The guitar was black. The eggs and cheese were delicious. The cheese, he said, was Korean- no added salt or sugar. I was wearing jeans rolled up, my black shirt with white flowers. Mr. Casanova commented on my Irish heritage. He would not give me a straight answer as to why his bar is the German bar. Mr. Cho said Mr. Casanova lived in Germany a while ago, but Mr. Casanova denied this claim with a shaking head and, “No, that’s what people tell me- but I don’t remember that. But I don’t know- Maybe.”

As we slowed on songs, Mr. Casanova ordered Playboy to get him his song. Playboy chuckled and set up the karaoke for his boss. The girl in yellow braced herself with fingers hovering next to her ears. Mr. Casanova gave a most magnificent performance of “I Did It My Way”.

5:00 A.M. rolled around. My glass was empty, my heart was full, my head was swimming and the rain had slowed. I decided to say goodnight to my new friends and trudge home.

I plan to return Friday or Saturday- who knows, maybe both, as he requested. I will play there again, with a bigger audience next time, most likely. But I am reluctant to return in a way. I don’t believe this experience there could possibly be topped.

The next morning, I learned Kevin had spent his evening making music also. He finished his first song. No, you’ll never hear it- but I did, and out of all the songs created that night, I do believe his will stand out the most in my memory.

But it’s like Mr. Casanova said: You must play your own song. This is best, always.