alli_ockinga

Last leg of a long journey

alli_ockinga — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Hello again, faithful readers. Fourteen months ago, I wrote my first blog as I was preparing to jet off to Seoul, and here I am now trying to wrap it all up as I return home. Home, I should note, is rather a fluid concept at present: after a couple days in Girl World with my ladies in Seattle, I'm spending a few weeks in Wenatchee, then back to Seattle, where the aforementioned ladies have been so considerate as to procure an apartment for me. It's so soon! I can't wait to see my friends and family after so long away.

Before that though, I've had a few more adventures to speak of. I finished off the south Island last week in great style, leaving Christchurch for Kaikoura, a little coastal town where most of the entertainment is pulled from the seaside. Accordingly, I went on a little fishing excursion with my friend Jack, another English lad. As we were preparing to step into the boat, someone spotted a sizable octopus hiding in the rocks. I was really excited. I like octopi. Darren, our Scottish first mate, was excited too. As I was engaged in appreciative comments about the wonder of nature and what amazing creatures they are, Darren promptly reached into the sea with a hook, pulled up the animal and cut off its head, tossing it unceremoniously back into the ocean. "Bait," he said. Oh. It was that kind of a fishing trip.

A couple minutes later, one of the girls was staring in the bait bucket, looking a little queasy. "The legs are still moving," she observed. She was right. The bloody mass of

Jack catches a sea perch

tentacles continued to writhe in the bucket, despite the obvious inconvenience of headlessness. "Ah, yeah," said Darren. "It'll survive for hours." I didn't have much time to marvel about the incredible adaptive qualities of octopi before it was time to start fishing. After the octopus incident, we were all a little apprehensive about the trip, wondering just what we'd gotten ourselves into, but in reality the actual act of fishing didn't require much of us. Darren showed us how to do it. "Drop," he said, letting down the line. "Wait." Two minutes of silence ensued while we waited for the line to go slack, indicating it had hit bottom. Immediately, there was a tug on the line. "Jerk," said Darren. "Reel." With that, he set to cranking the line, and before you know it, there was a bright orange sea perch being hauled into the boat.

"That was well quick," Jack noted.
"This ain't Dover," Darren retorted, once again beheading the fish without ceremony.

Laconic though the delivery was, Darren's formula worked. We dropped, waited, jerked

Crayfish look like aliens

and reeled up dozens of fish, mostly perch, but Jack managed to haul in a couple blue cod as well. I had better luck with the crayfish myself. After fishing, we went to our captain's house, where he cut up the perch and set out some soy sauce and wasabi for some fresh-caught sushi. Good stuff. Then, he gave us all a couple pours of his moonshine whiskey. As a rule, I'm not much of a whiskey girl, but under the circumstances it seemed appropriate. We steamed up the crayfish for one of the best meals I've ever had. Good times in Kaikoura, and in New Zealand in general.

That said, it's been quite a long walkabout, and I look forward to being home. Thanks to everyone that has followed along with me this year. I hope to write many more stories of many more places in the years to come. See you all soon!

Lady on a Tramp

alli_ockinga — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I've just had the best shower in the entire world, because it's the first I've had in four long, sweaty days after finishing the Routeburn Track in fjordland, south New Zealand. For my first solo backpacking trip--without the guidance of a responsible adult male--I'd say it went fairly well. I was certainly glad of every piece of gear I brought with me (specifically the wet-weather variety) because it was a wild trip.

Day one was brilliant. Awesome weather, stunning views:

Each night, we stayed in backcountry huts. NZ, hospitable country that it is, has an extensive hut system for trampers (as we're called). Huts may be a bit of a misnomer. It brings to mind shoddy structures hastily thrown together made of twigs and dried grass. A more apt term would be basic cabin, which admittedly does not have the same ring as Backcountry Hut, though it does contain the marketing advantage of double alliteration. About the huts, though. I stayed in a different hut each of the three nights on the tramp, and they vaired in capacity but all had the same basic functions (drinking water, gas for cooking, wood stove, bunks). I can't describe how nice it was not to have to set up a tent at the end of 11km of hiking. It certainly does a lot for the morale to know that you've got a roof waiting for you at the end of the section.

Day two rained steadily all day long, but I did manage to capture some breathtaking views of the Harris Saddle and Lake Mackenzie thanks to the waterproof camera bag that Michelle and Hannah gave me as a leaving-Asia present. (Faithful readers will remember M&H as my best Korea friends.)
My rain jacket, which I used with great success all throughout the Korean monsoon season, proved to be somewhat less effective than I had hoped, but all turned out well in the end once we got a fire going to dry everything out.

Day three was clear and cold. There's no escaping the onset of winter here in Fjordland Nat'l Park, as it got down to a frigid -12C last night (about 4 degrees F). I have developed something close to an addiction to Raro, the Kiwi answer to Tang, on this trip. Since I couldn't very well have my beloved Chai latter, it's tough to beat a cup of hot Raro in tough alpine weather! This was a relatively easy day, mostly flat, but with a spectacular ending.

Day four took me out of the track, where I caught a bus to Milford Sound, at the advice of my grandpa. Unfortunately, it was another dreary day on the coast, so the experience was

a little less magical for me than for him, perhaps. Still worth it though. This particular cruise that I went on evidently catered to Asians, because our buffet lunch definitely required fine chopsticks skills, which of course I have now. Thanks Korea! It was the first time I've used them since leaving six weeks ago. Then I went into the bathroom, and found an empty bottle of soju in there. (This, faithful readers will also recall, is the cheap-as-chips alcohol of choice in Korea. Sort of like if vodka met sake down a dark dark alley...Ah, memories.) I bet the bottle's owner was much warmer than me.

And last, some glacial fun that I didn't get to put up here because I kept forgetting while in Franz! So I've got just about two weeks left until I come back to the good old U.S. of A. Some times I feel better about that than other times. I'll be happy to see the faces, and I think I've gotten over the worst of the culture shock of being back in the western world by now. As it evident from the many references above, I still miss Korea quite frequently, and I suppose I always will. It's hard to imagine myself "home" right now. But I can't wait to see the faces of home, and my bank account can't wait to have a rest, either. Until next time!

update

alli_ockinga — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I said goodbye to Franz Josef and the treehouses a couple days ago. FJ is located on the west coast of the south island, and is known for being generally rugged and home to lots of what we might call "characters." I did in fact find this to be the case. It was a good time, but now it's back to the adventuring as I prepare for a four-day trek (or "tramp" as they say here) called the Routeburn. This is one of New Zealand's nine Great Walks, of which I've done pieces of two already: the Tongariro Crossing is part of the Tongariro Northern Circuit, and I also did a 6km segment of the Abel Tasman.

My travels have led me into Queenstown, billed as the adventure capital of the country. Lonely Planet remarked, no one's ever come to Queenstown and said, "I'm bored." True that. Most people come here to engage in various terrifying activities like canyon swings, bungy jumping and skydiving, all of which I steadfastly refuse. I enjoy most water- and land-based pursuits, but I'm not so much about being dropped from high places. Ask my dear friend Ryan how much fun I am at a carnival. Anwer: no fun, because I won't go on any of the rides. Luckily he is a scaredy-cat too when it comes to those things. And since I tend to get sick even on just slightly too-quick elevators, I am, to say the least, not an adrenalin junkie. Which is fine. I have learned, over the last couple years, that I'm just not that extreme.

Next up is the Routeburn. Should be awesome!

Glaciers! Kayaks! Treehouses!

alli_ockinga — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

My dear uncle Denny informs me that I am doing a "pissy job" of informing all my devoted readers of my actions here in the Land Down Under. Sorry. But internet is costly here. Nonetheless, I hate to keep you all waiting with baited breath, so here's an update on what I'm doing down here.

Once again I can say this has been an amazing week. First things first: I landed a job cleaning tree houses at the Rainforest Retreat. Yes. I WORK IN A TREEHOUSE IN THE RAINFOREST!! Hahaha. Of course I do. I'm not getting paid in actual money, but rather in accomodation (though sadly not in a treehouse), food and alcohol. Works for me! Freezes up the travel budget anyway. So I'm currently situated in Franz Joseph, on the west coast of the south island, "gateway to glacier country." It's a bit Stanleyesque in that only about 75 people live here, and they're all either in the hospitality industry, or they're outdoor guides and tour people. Just a dot on the map, really, but it's got a bookstore and coffee shop and it's absolutely beautiful here among the mountains and rainforest. It's quite strange going from Seoul to here. But, good strange.

Yesterday, I got to go up on the Franz Joseph glacier. It was absolutely stunning. Probably about the coolest thing I've ever gotten to do. We were on the ice for a full day, and got to go into some really amazing crevasses and ice caves, and I got to try my hand at ice climbing!! Not that I need another hobby. But it was truly breathtaking, and now I definitely know the real meaning of glacial. I'll put some pictures up the next time I'm online, if I remember to bring my camera cord. Oh technology, you've thwarted me again.

Also, in a nod to how diverse this country is, last week I was up in the Nelson area (north of here) kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park. It was sunny and gorgeous. I went hiking (tramping, in the local dialect) in the park for about 12 km and then paddled back. SO RAD. This week has provided some much-needed outdoor therapy as I work on getting grounded again. I really tried to keep sight of the big picture in this last year abroad, but it got difficult sometimes in the Korean madness, when everything around me was so foreign and just purchasing cough syrup was a victory worthy of highest celebration. But I can feel myself coming back. I am really happy here. Also, my uncle Joe is getting me in touch with a friend whose family owns a winery down here, so if that pans out, I think I'll head up that way on my way back north. Joe has been a far more helpful uncle than Denny, though I love them both the same.

For now, it's back to the treehouse for some dinner. Stay tuned for pictures!

In pictures

alli_ockinga — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

dolphins! (maybe...the phots's not showing up on this computer, don't know why) and geeking out where Lord of the Rings was filmed

happy at Cathedral Cove, and out for a paddle!

Livin' it up in the Hellhole of the Pacific

alli_ockinga — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Kia Ora, everyone! After 30+ hours of travel, I finally made it out of the Land of the Morning Calm and into Auckland, New Zealand. After a few days in Auckland to shake the jet lag and get my feet on the ground again, I headed north to Paihia in the beautiful Bay of Islands.

A little history: back in the 1800s, Paihia was the main whaling port for the European powers that were in the South Pacific. Thus, all the sailors and various unsavories stopped off here every few weeks, and naturally, a degenerate crowd grew to call the place home. For some time, it's nickname was, in fact, "the hellhole of the pacific." Locals love to report that back then, the only establishment with a higher gross income than the brothels were the pubs, and even then, only just. These days, it's quite a bit more calm in the bay. Over 144 islands to explore at my leisure! And explore them I did.

For the first bit, I was still attempting to get over the reverse culture shock of leaving Asia. It took a bit to get out of my Korea Shell, but soon enough, I took up with an English lad who was thrilled to have found himself traveling with an American Girl. (Which makes...one of him. The general reaction to my nationality is a sort of disappointed look, and then some sort of comment along the lines of, "why can't you just be more like your older brother, Canada...he never seems to get into trouble like you..." Well, sorry for all the muck-ups, folks, it's really not my fault.) Anyway. That first day, I lazed about on the beach. The weather's been lovely, especially after coming from dead winter in Seoul. The next day, I went on a little cruise and saw my first dolphins! Turns out my aquatic photography skills leave quite a lot to be desired, so I abandoned the attempt and just watched them frolic. One word: CUTE.

Next day, I went for a little paddle and explored the various inlets and coves throughout the bay. It felt good to be out in a kayak again--first time in a year! I also went for a little coastal walk, which afforded plenty of good photos. Unfortunately, I left my cable in my room, so you don't get to see them this time around.

Long story short, it's gorgeous here, I love it, people are unbelievably friendly (even the bus dirvers say, "Have a lovely day, darling!") and I may never come home. Well, at the least, I know where I'm retiring.

A nod to some fellow bloggers

alli_ockinga — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

These are links to my two favorite blogs about living in Korea. Shame on me for not giving them props far earlier.

This one might only make sense to people that have actually lived and tried, valiantly, to understand this country:
http://dokdoisours.blogspot.com/
I don't know. I'm currently having a hard time remembering who I was before here.

And this is probably one of the greatest things to hit the internet, ever. Period. Go to Ask A Korean. For starters, check out the translated North Korea jokes:
http://askakorean.blogspot.com/2010/01/ask-korean-news-north-korean-jokes.html

Peace!

Packing up, moving out

alli_ockinga — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I got a letter from the Korean government the other day informing me that my permitted period of stay is expiring, and I need to make alternate living arrangements. This wasn’t the first sign that the clock’s running out on this grand Asian adventure; last week, I had my last hapkido class, and it’s getting to the point where I know that every time I leave somewhere, it’s the last time I’ll be there. Thus, each day is filled with a dozen tiny moments of unexpected sentiment.

There’s so much that I’m going to miss here, and so much that I’m looking forward to when I get home. It seems like everything is double-edged, here. Like, I know I’ll long for the accessibility of Seoul’s public transportation, but I am thrilled to know I’ll never have to listen to another subway salesmen hawking pipe cleaners or spandex sleeves on the train. I can’t wait to go shopping and buy the pair of jeans I like the most, as opposed to the ones that offend me least; on the other hand, I love how people express themselves here by wearing whatever the hell they want and if you don’t like it then forget you. I like that there’s always someone in a weirder outfit than me here. This has not always been the case in my life.

I won’t miss how I attract attention to myself merely by existing. I’ll bid a cheerful farewell to my loyal companion Racial Discrimination, and his friend Blatant Sexism. I never did get used to the culture of indirectness, and I really, really really won’t miss the Korean woman whine. But oh, how I will miss not paying rent, ninja gymnastics, delicious street food for a dollar, and of course, my students and friends. I think I’ll probably see many of my teacher friends again. After all, it may be a big world, but it’s full of small circles. Then again, maybe I just don’t like saying goodbyes. My Korean friends are another matter. The Japanese word for goodbye—sayonara—literally means, “if this is how it must be.” I guess that’s how I feel about it. There are great people everywhere on earth, if you seek them out, and it’s a shame I can’t just pick my one hundred favorites and form a little haven full of them.

As for my students, some of them know I’m leaving, and some don’t yet. Of the ones that do, some are more tore up about it than others, as expected. They know that foreign teachers are a rotational bunch, and so the older ones are used to teacher changes. But my younger ones don’t understand why I’m going. It’s always hard to explain to people why you have to go away, and doubly so when those people are seven. There’s a handful of them that I’m always going to wonder about. Did Tae Sun ever become a robot scientist like she wanted? Did Kyu Hyuk ever learn to tie his shoes? Fingers crossed for that kid. Hopefully they’ve been able to learn a little from me this year, if not about grammar, then at least that foreigners are people too.

I know I have been changed by Korea, but it’s hard to say just how right now. I think that I’m a little less a citizen of a nation and a little more a resident of the world. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that people are essentially the same all over the world, albeit with different packaging. The society is different, and so are the words we use to talk about it, but we’re all singing the same songs.

And so, I take off in a week. Not just me; most of my friends’ contracts end in the next month or so, as well. Additionally, Hannah’s teenaged brother, Jonny, has been here the past month, visiting on his semester break from college. Last night, we took him out to a noraebang. Literally, a noraebang is a small “singing room,” just like your own private karaoke place, only big enough for about six people. (I’m happy to report that Koreans have lived up to the stereotype of Asians loving karaoke.) Amidst the musical chaos and flashing lights, we asked him what he’ll be telling his college friends about Korea.

“Lots and lots of people,” he said. Right.
And about English teachers living in Korea?
“Lots and lots of beer.” Right…so, we didn’t manage to subvert that particular stereotype. Well. One thing at a time.

Blowfish and black belts and bear hats, oh my!

alli_ockinga — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Happy 2010! It's going to be a good year--I can feel it in the air. I'm now officially down to my last month in Korea, which makes me sad. But tonight is not the night for sap and sentiment. Here are some awesome things to happen lately:

1. We ate blowfish!

I ate this!

In case you don't know, this little guy to the right (photo credit to wikipedia) is a blowfish, also sometimes called a puffer fish. Do not be fooled by how adorable he appears. He is a ruthless killer. Here's a taste of what wikipedia says on the subject: "Puffer fish are the second most poisonous vertebrate in the world, the first being a Golden Poison Frog. The skin and certain internal organs are highly toxic to humans, but nevertheless the meat of some species is considered a delicacy in both Japan (as fugu) and Korea (as bok). . . Puffer's poisoning, usually as a result of incorrectly prepared flesh, will cause deadening of the tongue and lips, dizziness, and vomiting. These are followed by numbness and prickling over the body, rapid heart rate, decreased blood pressure, and muscle paralysis. Death results from suffocation as diaphragm muscles are paralyzed. Patients who live longer than 24 hours are expected to survive. . . In Voodoo, puffer's poison must be ingested by the victim for the black magic of creating "zombies."

Well. What's life without a little adventure. For a being with the alleged ability to create zombies, it was actually quite tasty. We ate it raw, as sushimi, and cooked over noodles and veggies, as bok. It's similar in taste and appearance to halibut. Evidently, our chef prepared the meal correctly, because we're all still here.

2. I GOT MY BLACK BELT!!

kids and me at the black belt test

I know! Right!?! This actually happened about two weeks ago. The test was big, scary, and all in Korean. But the Grand Master, who is about 72 and looks exactly like a grand master should, said I did very well. I am a ninja! And I have to say, I feel like a rock star tying on the new belt each day. Hapkido has really played a huge role in my year, as it's allowed me to access at least a bit of Korean culture through an easily digestible medium. Also, it's just cool.

3. Continual absorption of culture

King Sejong at Ghwangwamun Square

The golden statue is of King Sejong, who created the modern Hangul alphabet. Before that, they used Chinese, and that was terrible because Chinese is ridiculously difficult, so only the very elite could read and write. Now they use a logical phonetic alphabet that was easy enough to learn after a couple weeks here.

4.And, it's been snowing here, to the delight of pretty much everyone.

HOW CUTE IS THIS?!

Winter in Korea is sort of terrible, because we get those bitter tundra winds sweeping down from Russia. But it's also sort of awesome, because all the little kids wear these adorable animal hats. I've seen polar bears, wolves, white tigers, pandas, and even a rogue koala once. Sometimes, the hanging-down bits are connected to fleece-lined paws, which act as mittens. Soooo cute.

I suppose that's enough for now. Hope everyone had a happy, fun and safe New Years. See you in three months!

Holidays with the Surrogate Fam

alli_ockinga — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Michelle, Ben and me at the Snow Jam

As you may have guessed, in a land with a significant Buddhist overtone, Christmas isn't as big of a cultural deal here. There are a few department stores echoing the American bombardment of holiday cheer, but overall, it's a much more low-key affair. So the holiday was celebrated a bit differently this year. I had a four-day weekend, almost all of which was spent with my surrogate family at Hannah and Michelle's apartment. We spent the Eve watching Christmasy movies and drinking our homemade eggnog and mulled wine, then went our separate ways for Christmas morning to call our real families. We got a skiff of snow on Christmas day, which made us all happy.

Rock Tigers!

Christmas night, we met back up in Seoul for the Rock Tigers. These guys are awesome. They're a Korean rockabilly band, and they always put on an amazing show. Also, it seems
to be my lot in life to fall for completely unattainable Korean rock stars, so that happened, again, this time with the stand-up bass player. [A cautionary note for my more PC readers: extreme honesty ahead!] Still with me? Okay, so when I first got here, I was not psyched about the dating pool, because at first glance, all the men appeared to be gay.

The Rock Tiger that stole my heart

They all carried gorgeous handbags and wore skinny jeans with superstyled hair, and often, topped off the look with eyeliner. Understand, I am all about being who you are and all that good stuff--but I was going to be here for a YEAR. Prospects were limited. And then, a couple months in, I realized the inherent logical fallacy: there are 23 million people in this country. Clearly, the whole nation was not, in fact, gay. I'd become more acculturated, and I'd see a fabulous young man dressed to the nines in runway fashion and just think, "Wow, I really love his purse." And then, a funny thing started to happen about three months ago: I kind of started to like it. These Korean guys got flavor. And now, I've come full circle, and I'm in love every ten minutes on the subway. Life is so much more interesting, and I am so much more distracted now. Evidently, I've been hit by what the coarser expats among us refer to as Yellow Fever. Inappropriate terminology, yes. But not without accuracy.

The North Tower at the top of Namsan Mountain

Hannah's younger brother arrived to visit over his winter break from college, and that's given us an excuse to do lots of touristy things that we just haven't gotten around to yet. First, we toured an old palace, which would have been a more enjoyable experience if it hadn't been 13 degrees out. Still, the bits of snow left on the tiled roofs lent a charming feel to the atmosphere and helped mitigate the pain of the encroaching frostbite a little bit. Next, we headed up to North Tower on Namsan Mountain. The North Tower is Seoul's answer to the Space Needle: a really tall structure with a disk-shaped observatory at the top. We took a cable car up to the top around dusk, which afforded us some epic views of the whole of Seoul spread out around us. SEOUL IS HUGE. The photos I've uploaded here do not in any way do justice to the magic of the sight: it was like being on an island, in the middle of a flat lake, at midnight, where each light was a reflection of the millions of stars overhead.

Seoul from the North Tower

And that wasn't even the coolest part. At the bottom of the Tower is the Lock Wall: a long chain-link fence enclosing the grounded observation deck, that people have turned into a monument to love. Koreans really love love, as you can see here. The tradition is to bring a padlock, and decorate it however you wish. Some got really elaborate, with etched pictures of couples and families, while others were just two names and a date. When you've inscribed your message on the padlock, you lock it to this fence, and pass the key on to someone else--children, best friends, your other half--and they return to the tower and look for your lock. It's a very beautiful, simple tradition. So, I locked my lock, and now I know that there will always be a little part of me still in Seoul, after I leave and live the rest of my life--because my Key People won't get them until I come home.

lock wall

Which, by the way, is five weeks plus two NZ months from now. WOW. By the way, I tested for and received my BLACK BELT last week, so look for that post soon. Hope everyone is enjoying the holidays!

Have yourself a blingin' Christmas!

alli_ockinga — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Merry Christmas!

If Only In My Dreams...

alli_ockinga — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

It’s less than two weeks until Christmas, as my students remind me every half an hour.

“Alli-sam! Alli-sam! Alli-sam!”
“Yes, yes, yes?”
“This month Christmas!” They are like puppies.
“Yeah it is!” I say, excitedly, every time. I won’t be the one to take the magic of the season away from them. “How many days?”
“Twelventy!”
“Almost,” I correct, because I am, after all, their teacher. “You mean twelve.”
“Twelb! Twelb days Christmas!”
Close enough. ‘Tis the season.

If the hourly reminders weren’t enough, I’m assaulted by Christmas cheer so bold and bright it’s nearly offensive each time I walk into the Lotte Mart. There are artificial trees of every shape and size in a flashing display of gold and silver, draped in violently pink tinsel and blue lights. I don’t quite remember Christmas being so neon at home, but I’m sure it isn’t so different than the Wal-Mart displays.

this little kid was adorable

so many people at the snowboarding deal!

No matter. It’s bound to be a nontraditional Christmas for me, which ever way you look at it. It’s my first one away from home and nothing feels quite right. I’ve managed to block my location on the internet so as to get Pandora playing holiday music, and although I sent out Christmas cards and gifts for the family home last month, I still can’t quite sense Christmas in the air just yet. That's not to say there aren't wintry events. Yesterday, I went to a pre-Olympic qualifying snowboarding event in Seoul with Hannah, Michelle and our Korean friend, Ben. This is the first time the event has been held in a city center, so it was super packed, and it was a very cool deal. Still, Christmas is a time to give in and think about home, so here goes.

There’s no snow here, for one thing. I know it happens, because there was snow on the ground last February when I first arrived. We’ve had a couple dustings. But it’s nothing like the thigh-deep mess I’m used to. For once, I wouldn’t even mind that, because I don’t have to drive myself anywhere here. It’s all different. Consider: I haven’t made the standard harrowing journey home from Idaho, a normally four-hour trip turned into six by torturous back roads, painted slick with black sheets of ice by the Grinch himself. I haven’t faced Mom’s reproving looks at my disproportionate ratio of rum to hot butter mix, nor suffered through thirteen consecutive screenings of Ralphie showing how the piggies eat. There won’t be any strange but welcome run-ins with old high school friends doing last minute shopping runs. The priest at St. Joe’s, who always managed to make even Christmas a heavy-hearted affair, refusing proper decorations until the Eve, won’t be insisting we forsake thoughts of shiny papered packages beneath our trees. As to that, I didn’t get to see Dad struggle to put up the tree this year, muttering decidedly unChristmasy words beneath his breath. I have opted to go with the significantly less sentimental Christmas Bamboo Stand this year, as I’m morally opposed to fake Christmas trees, and a solid Douglas Fir is hard to come by here.

And it definitely isn’t Christmas without incessantly arguing with my three siblings over—well, anything. Music selection. Board games. Ornament placement; that’s always been a big issue of contention. Andrew lacks the spatial awareness to place the heavier ones near the trunk, on the inner boughs, and Matthew refuses to throw away the homemade ornaments from our Catholic school youth, although Mom has secretly been tossing about six or seven a year in her quest for “just once, a really nice Christmas tree.” She thinks we don’t know. And they all think I’m too bossy. I probably am. “Little Miss Perfect,” Julie should be sneering, right about now. “Who never does any tiny little thing wrong, ever.”

I remember when I was in high school, trying to escape Family Decorating Night. I wanted to run off with my best friends, or go to a party where someone’s parents had left Schnapps, or later, to indulge in mistletoe-inspired mischief with my boyfriend. There was always somewhere else to be. All that family togetherness was so embarrassing. Who were we, the Waltons?

I miss it now.

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m aware that my situation is not particularly unique. There are millions of displaced people all around the world now, many of them, also, quietly humming Bing Crosby tunes to themselves. I won’t be alone, but will be spending the holiday with the aformentioned Michelle and Hannah. Although I’m far away, my interim country is not war-torn, and I won’t be dodging bombs or taking guard duty. I have many wonderful experiences across more oceans to which I’m looking forward, and these dreams justify the distance. I know that occasional homesickness is what a traveler trades for adventure, and after all, it’s only fair. I’m lucky to have a reason to long for the faces and hearts of home. All in all, there is much to be thankful for. And That’s what it’s all about, right? Wishing you a happy new year, and a Seoulful Christmas. Ha! Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Monster Chicken Day, and more

alli_ockinga — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Japanese maple trees on my street

I was teaching my little ones about American Thanksgiving and all that goes with it. "And we eat mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie, and turkey..." My mouth began to water, despite their confused looks. ("Teacher...math potato?") They demanded to know what a turkey is, so I drew one on the board. It was met with silence for about five seconds, until a brave one in the back clarified. "Alli-sam...turkey is...monster chicken?" Yes. Yes it is. It's been a month for celebrating. Today, we had our best interpretation of Thanksgiving dinner at Hannah and Michelle's apartment. It consisted of fresh apple pie, homemade jalepeno poppers, and math potatoes with gravy, creatively rendered from ox tail drippings. "After all, what's Thanksgiving without a little traditional ox tail?" Hannah commented. Indeed. It went down well enough though with several glasses of red wine.

Ellen's last day in Korea

I also turned 24 last week. A big thank you to all those who sent me cards and best wishes across the world! I really appreciate it. The Thanksgiving Crew and I went out to celebrate in Seoul, and ended up playing street carnival games and riding a virtual reality magic carpet ride, complete with 3D goggles. We also found what may have been the last and only two cans of Dr. Pepper in Korea at this hole-in-the-wall market. They were completely flat, all the carbonation having departed long ago, and the can was still the old solid maroon color, not the swanky new two-toned one. We couldn't figure out exactly what was wrong until I spotted the copyright date on the can: 1998. I suppose it would be safer to stick to the local soda option, Milkis. As you may have discerned, that is milk soda. It's better than it sounds.

Just before my birthday, I sent Ellen off to India for Yoga school. We had a really nice last day in Seoul, taking care of our Christmas shopping at the market and eating samgyetang, which is a chicken and ginseng soup with supposed healing properties. It's no Campbells chicken soup, either. There's a WHOLE chicken in each bowl! Ellen made a friend. And, while on the topic of food, I got to help the women in my hapkido class make kimchi recently.

kimchi making

hot peppers ready for kimchi

Have we talked about kimchi? Kimchi is the traditional food of Korea. It's pickled cabbage (sometimes radishes) mixed with hot peppers. This, too, is better than it sounds. Now, at least. When I first got here I was fairly offended by it, but then this weird thing happens like four months in and you start to just crave it. Then you start to be able to judge its quality, and you can be properly offended if you go to a restaurant and they serve you the crappy kimchi because they figure you're a foreigner and won't notice. That's when you know you're going to make it here. Anyway, I was mostly a mule on kimchi day, hauling 500 pounds of wet cabbage up several flights of stairs to the kimchi room. It was right after class, so I was dressed in my hapkido suit. I have never felt so Korean!

earning my red belt

And finally, I'm pleased to announce that I got my red belt last week. It's so pretty! Almost a pity that I'll only get to wear it for three weeks because I'm taking my BLACK BELT test in December! So I've been training pretty hard these last few weeks in preparation for that. Cross your fingers for me. See you in December!

Timewarp!

alli_ockinga — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

It started out innocently enough. Master and I were driving home from hapkido when he remarked that he was hungry, because he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Idly, I asked why. “My wife,” he said, “sleeping.” I looked at him expectantly. He hadn’t answered my question. “Sleep,” he said, “so, not food making.”
“Well, why didn’t you make breakfast?”
He looked at me like I’d suggested he check out the latest career opportunities with Mary Kay. “No!” he cried, horrified. “Woman is food making!”
“Or, you could do it yourself.”
“I work.”

I looked sideways at him in his ninja suit. The man wears pajamas all day long, and we’ve just spent an hour practicing somersaults and handsprings. “It’s not that hard to fry an egg,” I said. “You can do both.”
“Not Korea man job,” he insisted. “I have wife.” He was about to say more, but he was at least wise enough to sense a tirade coming, so instead he said, “Pass.” That’s our conversational safe word for when cultural differences threaten needless arguments. With one last withering glance meant to transcend language barriers, I reminded myself that it isn’t my job to come over here and impose my own value system on others. Still, it niggles. This isn’t the only instance of sexism here in Korea. In general, I look past it, because I know that I can do anything I want, and usually that’s enough for me. But it’s fairly pervasive in this overwhelmingly patriarchal society. It often feels like women are just about 15 per cent less of a person here. For just a moment there in the van, I forgot what decade I had wandered into.

Actually, that’s been a pretty common theme here. Fads come in and out like the weather, and I can never tell if Korean culture is so trendy that these dated fads are coming back, or are just now getting here. Example: when I first arrived, Korea was going through a serious New Kids on the Block phase. I emphasize serious here, because it’s not like they were enjoying it in a cutesy reminiscent sense, the way I like, say, Guns’n’Roses. No no. Grown men sported NKOTB tee shirts, and the radio stations played New Kids mash-ups. Really. I missed the American NKOTB phase by a couple years, but that still puts Korea about twenty years behind.

2PM

Naturally, it follows that there are dozens of boy bands, and some girl bands too, dominating the pop scene. At first, I failed to find the joy in what are essentially the Korean versions of the Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls (remember 1998?). But, one of the dubious benefits of teaching is always being clued in to pop culture via the students. After a couple months, I realized I couldn’t fight the K-pop wave, and it was better to just embrace it. As such, I’d like to share this link to a video of my favorite K-pop boy band, 2PM. (Album title: The Hottest Time of the Day.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUgReo37ECw
Please go watch this. It will bring you immeasurably closer to my experience here.

G-Dragon.

And man, those boys can dance! One way in which I feel Korean boy bands are superior to the ones we knew is the mandatory rap section in the middle of each song. I find that I’m less offended by Korean hip hop, due to my rudimentary grasp of the lyrics. I’ve even started to understand a little of the magic of Korea’s biggest sex symbol, G-Dragon (really!), which probably means it’s about time to move. If you've got a little time to get lost on youtube, check out Big Bang (G-Dragon’s group), Epik High, and the Wondergirls for starters. I also recommend MC Sniper if you’re feeling a little edgier. Other things just now appearing in Korea: snap bracelets, the Power Rangers, and acid washed jeans. I’m pretty sure I saw pogs the other day, too. I kind of wish I could be here for when they rediscover N’Sync. They’re going to be HUGE! ... Again.

Pepero Day!

alli_ockinga — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I've eaten some shady stuff here in Korea--silkworm larvae soup and chicken feet spring immediately to mind, followed closely by squid jerky and rice juice--but on at least one occasion, the Koreans really got it right. I speak of Pepero, my favorite indulgence here. It's a long, slim biscuit, covered in a thin layer of chocolate along the lines of biscotti, available at any convenience store, 12 sticks for thousand won. (Today, that's 83 cents.) Pepero is delicious; in fact, for my first six weeks, it was my favorite thing about Korea. I have since developed other interests, but I was thrilled to get to school today and learn that it is officially Pepero Day.

In the words of Lisa, a fifth-grader, "Pepero day is love to person people snack give. I give the 15...this pepero is delicious. I like Pepero. All people is love the Pepero. Pepero is the happy Korea snake."

Change that last snake to snack, and we're golden. They were surprised to learn that we don't have Pepero Day in the states, and I had their sympathy for all of five seconds before one of them pointed out, "But teacher...you have the Halloween Day." Right. So all the kids give Pepero to the people they love today. I was pleased to be showered in chocolate biscuits with packaging that states in swirly romantic script, "Happy Pepero Day. I'll be loving you forever deep inside my heart." Why November 11? In an admirable marketing ploy, the folks at Pepero convinced that nation that a Pepero stick looks like the number one. So what are four Pepero sticks lined up? 1111, of course...11/11. The kids were absolutely wired today. I can't even conceive the Pepero pandemonium which will undoubtedly ensue two years from now on 11/11/11.

Another good thing to happen today was me getting to take over a class from Harry. Harry is my favorite co-teacher, a fancy little Korean man who carries a far nicer purse than me, but is kind to me in spite of that. My schedule of classes was rearranged THREE times this week, but I ended up with tt5A, which is the highest class we offer at my school. It's just one boy, Min, age 14, and he speaks excellent English. Far better than my director, unquestionably. In our book, we were discussing the word obsessed--a risky proposition with a 14-year-old, but we managed to steer clear of discomfort when he used the example, "I am obsessed with sports. Like baseball and football."
"Oh yeah? You mean soccer, or real football?"
"Real football, like American football."
"Yeah? Who's your team?"
"Seahawks."
Three seconds of silence, then I asked "...Really?"
Yes. Turns out he spent a year in Tacoma when he was 10, and he can't wait to finish school and move back to Seattle. Ha...me too, kid. Really though, it was a treat to be able to speak in exact language today, without approximating. I forgot how much easier it is to teach when I don't have to mime everything. It definitely made me excited to get back to those smart-mouth American teenagers that I love.

Finally, I'm pleased to announce that in my continual progression towards assimilation, I now know enough Korean to read the graffiti on the bathroom stall at my school. It's a little unseemly for this outlet, but let's just say that some sentiments are universal. Huh.

Happy halloween!

alli_ockinga — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Happy Halloween! A couple days late, I know. Last Friday, my hagwon held a party to introduce the kids to that sweetest of Western customs, Halloween. Thanks, Mexico! They were pretty thrilled with the concept, naturally. ("Alli Teacher...Halloween is...superhero pants and 'give me the candy?' "Yes." 'Really?') We played zombie tag and mira (mummy) games, and about half the kids dressed up. Sometimes my job is unbelievably cute.

These are two of my favorite little cretins, above.
We also did face painting. I'm pretty proud of my work on Undertaker:

And, being the good sport I am, I let one of my six-year-olds turn me into Alli-Cat-Teacher.

It was a fairly hectic day, as you can imagine, but the kids had a good time. Throughout it all, my boss kept running around the school in his shiny suit wearing a flu mask with two holes punched in it over his eyes, yelling at the top of his lungs, "I AM ANGRY MAN!" I fear he may have missed the point of Halloween just a little. We also had a little hiccup when one of the littlest boys, who is only four, didn't get the memo that masks aren't real. When one of the teachers entered our room wearing a Frankenstein mask, he was so scared that he promptly attached himself to my left leg and wouldn't be parted with it for anything in the world until I got us some jack-o-lantern coloring sheets and showed him that he wouldn't be able to color unless his hands were free. Also, I made it clear that there was a lollipop in it for him if I could see a smile (with teeth). He then produced several rainbow pumpkins and was able to go back to the party, plastic scythe clutched defensively in front of us both.

Tom has been enjoying his time here for the most part, although this quarantine of mine has put a little damper on our adventures. I know it's not my fault, but I still feel kind of bad. Thanks for flying all the way around the world...but I'm going to go throw up now. Anyway, he's off wandering the neighborhood right now. Having him around has been a little surreal since I'm so used to just being in my own head after all this time alone with no one understanding me. He's still pretty overwhelmed by all the colors and lights and constant K-pop flowing from unseen speakers. Korea is definitely a sensorial experience, but I suppose I've gotten used to it after--wait for it--NINE months here. That's right, I'm 3/4 finished now; I can see the light, and it's called New Zealand! I got my visa straightened out, bought my plane tickets this week, and on Feb. 1, I'll be kiwi-bound! Can't wait to get moving again.

booooooo swine flu

alli_ockinga — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Well, it got me. Swine flu, H1N1, or whatever we're officially calling it these days. Let me tell you how not excited I am about this. Not that I'm looking for sympathy--the whole world has it, and besides, I absolutely refuse to die from Swine flu--but it's not awesome, that's for sure.

I just got back from a round of high-stakes Pharmaceutical Charades; high-stakes because if I communicate well enough, I get medicine, and if I do a superb job, it will be the right kind of medicine. Not that I'd know, because it's all in Korean...but I think it went okay. I walked in and tried to say hello to the kindly pharmacist. 'Ahnyung-haseo' is what I was going for, but it came out some toad-like alien tongue unfamiliar to us both. Enter the charades. I mimicked speaking with my hand, like it was a puppet, then pointed to my throat, and crossed my arms in an X, thus cementing the notion that I have been stuck dumb. For fever, we compromised on "head fire." I'll spare the successive grisly details, but eventually I was handed two packages of pills, so we'll see what happens there. 'Kansahamnida,' I tried to say. Thank you. I got as far as "Kaaa" before failing again.

After the pharmacy, I went to meet Master to tell him that I wouldn't make hapkido today. After initially mocking my frailty, he looked closer and announced that we were going to the hospital. We picked up his six-year-old son, who was also sick, on the way, and Master translated for me once there--Karmic payback for all those English lessons I've taught him, I suppose. I'm lucky to have him watching out for me here.

So, in the end, I'm another confirmed case. I have to miss a week of work, which is particularly vexing because I was supposed to start five new classes this week, and now I'm not going to be able to train them properly. I also haven't yet determined if I get sick leave for this, or if I just lost a week's pay. Let's hope the former, because I just bought my New Zealand plane ticket, and it's not going to pay for itself. On the plus side, the medicine only cost me about eleven dollars, because in an interesting twist, health insurance is awesome. I also get to wear one of those surgical face masks that they like to wear over here when they're sick, so at least there's a silver lining.

It's that time again...

alli_ockinga — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Report card time, that is. We issue report cards every two months here. I used to really detest them, but I've pared the whole thing down to a science so that it's now a fairly efficient, if still onerous, task. In the public school system back home, there's an option on progress reports to add a comment, and you can simply select "It is a pleasure to have your child in class" or "Your child frequently interrupts during instruction" and the like. It sounds a little unfeeling, but when a teacher has 160 students, it's a justifiable shortcut. While I have to actually handwrite my report cards, I have taken the same approach with these, and generally follow this template:

"XXXXXXX has a positive/negative attitude and participates willingly/infrequently in class. I'd like to see him/her practice reading/handwriting/vocabulary and try not to rely on the dictionary/be so talkative/throw so many spitballs in the future."

Copy, paste. Mentally, at least. As it is, I have about 85 to do all together. I'm a lot better at it now then when I started four terms ago, mostly because I've released the idea that what I write matters, because at a hagwon, it really doesn't. One of the more spirit-killing things about this job is that here, it's all about the Benjamins (or the mahn wons), with education a distant secondary concern. Additionally, that famous Asian indirectness comes into play when dealing with parents. You just can't tell too much truth. For instance, there's this one kid who has been plaguing my classroom for the last nine months ceaselessly. He clearly should have been kicked out of the academy long ago because the child makes it impossible for any sort of knowledge transaction to take place. But there's no discipline program at my school (!) and because his parents are rich, the kid is allowed run of the place, even though he is only 12. What to write on his report card?

"Your child is the bane of my existence. His behavior is so atrocious that I honestly have no idea as to the level of his English skills, because I've never had the opportunity to accurately assess them. He should stop kicking other students in class, I'd like to see him stop greeting all his classmates with "F*** you" each day. Additionally, he hasn't turned in any homework since April."

Alas, that won't do. The edited, Director-approved version turned out like so:
"Yun is an energetic boy, but he could channel it in a more positive way. He should practice reading every day to keep up with the class, and remember to keep his hands to himself."

So that's a battle. I do try and celebrate successes ("James has finally stopped shoving teacher's marker down his pants!") and to be fair, 85 per cent of the children aren't monsters, and most are even likable. Regardless, the whole process is undermined in the fact that three-quarters of the parents don't speak any English, so I could be writing in Spanish, or even teaching it in my classrooms, and no one would be much the wiser. It's not a complaint against them, just another indication that the system here is flawed. However, I take great joy in the knowledge that I only have one more set of report cards to do until I'm finished here, and I try and take this exercise as a reminder to never, ever give out pointless assignments.

Not related, the KIA Tigers just won the Korea Series with a walk-off homerun in Game Seven, and Tom is exceptionally pleased to see that we get the World Series on cable here. Go Phillies!

Good Week for Home

alli_ockinga — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I had to go into Seoul this morning to pick up the results of a TB scan that I had to complete before getting a New Zealand visa. Apparently Korea is considered a "non-low risk country" for tuberculosis, so last week I had to go to a Kiwi-approved hospital and get x-rayed, and this week I picked up the results. All clear. Next week, I'll bring that to the embassy, but I have to wait until Thursdays for erranding due to my schedule. On the subway, I failed to notice a woman trying to catch my eye for awhile, involved as I was groovin' to some new tunes I recently acquired. (Jeremy Fisher. I like to listen to twang and harmonica while riding the metro--it makes me feel like I'm hoodwinking the city somehow, balancing out the concrete with steel guitars.) When finally I noticed the woman, I realized it was actually a pair of them, both sporting black nametags pronouncing them Sister Toronto and Sister Park. Usually when I encounter missionaries of any sort here, I sort of awkwardly make the sign of the cross to indicate that I've already heard the story. However, one of my friends back home recently left for the Netherlands on a mission, so I'm inordinately well-disposed towards missionaries at the moment. I pulled my earphones out and we began chatting, and it turns out that both women hailed from (unsurprisingly) Idaho and Utah. One of them even had spent some time in Stanley. We only had about three stops worth of time to chat, but it's always comforting to meet someone that knows the same places you know.

This happened to me last Thursday at the hospital itself, also. Severance Hospital is a gigantic building, the population of which exceeds that of many entire towns I've called home. Therefore, they assigned me a volunteer to chauffeur me around to the correct department. She was a young Korean-American woman studying abroad here, missing home and her boyfriend and Dr. Pepper something fierce. Turns out she's from California. I've found that the further I get from my stomping grounds, the wider the territory I'm willing to claim as "home" gets. In the scheme of the entire world, California seems downright neighborly. Anyway, the lonesome boyfriend goes to seminary school in Mill Creek, so we got to talking Washington, and she asked if I knew Sequim, and she even pronounced it right. I could have hugged her. Moments like that make me realize the world really isn't that big. It's a nice thought.

Other good things to happen this week: I got a package from my mom containing three bags of licorice-thankyouthankyouthankyou!--and started off the week with a buoying call back home to a dear, dear friend of mine. Although he was actually the last person I talked to before leaving the country last January--literally, the flight attendent made me hang up the phone with him so we could take off--it's the first time we've talked since April. He tends to disappear for months at a time into the wilderness on various expeditions--like, come January, he will be a "hutmeister" in charge of trekking into the Sawtooth Mountains to deliver supplies to several backcountry yurts--but has recently come back to civilization, so we got to have a really nice chat. Quite simply, he delights me, and he has always been good at reminding me how great life has the potential to be.

Also...NINE DAYS TIL TOM GETS HERE! Have I mentioned I'm excited about this?

Alas, it hasn't all been sunshine and roses. My worst decision of the week transpired last Saturday, after a very satisfying climb and bouldering session with my friends Michelle and Hannah. Hannah was lamenting the lack of true Korean experiences lately, as we've all sort of settled into a comfortable zone here that doesn't involve going out on too many limbs. So we decided to shake things up with a bit of heretofore untried street food. Hannah had heard things about this Korean sausage called soondae. It's kind of grayish and enclosed in a sketchy green-tinted sleeve, so it kind of looks like a dying snake. As my family can tell you, I am opposed to sausage on multiple levels, but I didn't want to look like a sissy so I screwed up my courage and ate a bite. It took all I had in me to force it down, chewy as it was, and although it was quite a foreign taste, there was something distantly familiar about it...

...the next day Hannah showed me a link. "Soondae," it said, "a kind of traditional Korean sausage, is not for everyone. It is made with clear noodles and pepper and cow's blood. For added "flavor," it is served with big chunks of pungent steamed liver." Ah, yes. Blood. That's the taste I remember. I really haven't the heart or stomach to write more about soondae, but if you're curious, the article goes on here. http://www.insam.com/_eng/news/newsitem2.asp?id=4&news_id=202&max_id=203

That's it for now. Nothing earth-shattering to report, but it's been a good week for home. Eleven classes left til the weekend!

Okeydokey!

alli_ockinga — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

"When you're finished," I was instructing my class of fourth-graders as they scribbled semi-coherent lines into their diaries, "bring your diary up front to me. " To illustrate the point, I mimicked shutting a spiral notebook and setting it down on the table that serves as my desk near the white board, patting the fictitious diary twice on its nonexistent cover for emphasis. As I've said, I am now a Black Belt in charades. Then I did the customary check for understanding that follows my every statement. "Got it?"

Tommy--one of my favorite students, whose name has morphed from Unicorn to Mike Wyzowski to finally his current, more tame monicker--looked up from his desk and grinned. "Okeydokey," he said, turning back to his work.

It was the greatest thing that happened to me all day. A little background: in my line of work, I can't exactly speak around my charges as I do my friends. Especially for an English teacher, diction becomes a responsibility, and God knows, if you accidentally screw up you'll hear about it for days, even weeks. (This was proven to me when the guidance counselor at my former school accidentally referred to the 12-year-old boy we were discussing as a "douchebag" in said child's presence. In such instances, the validity of the term is disregarded, and we both noticed a special note about language and professionalism at the next staff meeting.)

As such, I've developed a special Teacher Lexicon of approved phrases. After the Douchebag Incident, I was reminded to err on the side of caution, which I think overall is for the best, especially for a student teacher, for whom the entire process is essentially a painfully drawn-out semester-long interview. It wouldn't do for me to reprimand a whining student with "Listen, Karl, it's time for you to stop being a [insert 4-5 letter word of your choice] and get to work on that expository essay." No, no. Instead, I decided to bring back some old classics, words and phrases that are disappearing in America, that fulfill my purpose nicely. Example: "Enough of this namby-pamby nonsense, Karl." Now Karl's face twists, because he's trying to both look sullen and not laugh at the same time. He grumbles that I sound like his grandma, but picks up his pencil again. Victory.

Another favorite: "Miss OOOOOOOOO," the girls would wail when I informed them that yet another word was being added to the Graveyard--they would no longer be allowed use of 'awesome' in essays--"that's so MEAN, and it's like totally unFAIR! What are we going to say when something is really really really AWEsome?!" I pointed to the thesauri shelf. "UGH! There are no words! You're killing them ALL!"

"Oh, hush," I would say. "Quit being such a Negative Nancy."
"Oh my God, Miss O, that's so totally lame."
"So are the Jonas Brothers."
"Oh my God no they're not. They're awes--I mean, they're...stupendous."

Etc. Other stand-bys in the Teacher Lexicon include Holy Moley, Jeez Louise, Holy Smokes, That's Balogna, Whippersnappers, and Chilluns. I'm working on integrating Land Sakes!, but I can't quite do it without laughing yet. And of course, Okeydokey. I say that so much that I don't even know it's campy anymore. Anyway, the Korea kicker is this: these kids don't know how uncool my teacher speak is. Some of them don't even know how to write their name yet, and I am literally the only foreigner they know. Most of them are still at the blessed age where they don't question their teachers, and consequently, I am raising a small cluster of Korean children to speak like characters from an Archie comic strip. I am secretly hoping that they will spread these phrases among their friends and repopularize them, so that when this Asia trend inevitably spreads to America, old people words will be cool again. Tommy and his Okeydokey is evidence that my influence is spreading. Which is why tomorrow I'll be introducing, "Dadgummet!"

Such are the things that amuse me these days as I try and avoid the slump of oncoming winter. The two weeks til Tom comes can't fly fast enough...except he comes the same day as I take the GRE, so maybe time should actually slow itself down. Hmm. Thus is the time paradox of Korea. I want it to be done, but then I have to do something else...Gee Willikers, there just ain't no satisfying me.