Week before last, the Native Speakers of English Teachers (NSETs) in my district (Seongdong) attended a workshop, otherwise referred to by the S.M.O.E. (Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education) as a “bonding trip.”
We rode a bus about 3 hours west – to the “West Sea” – and were able to see where the sea parts. During low tide, a strip of land is revealed that goes way out into the sea; land that is otherwise covered by sea water. It’s quite an experience to be standing so far out there, knowing that within a few hours, it will once again turn into an underwater world.
People go out there to dig for clams and other shellfish.
That day, we were among those people.
Hand-held rakes helped us expose creatures hiding beneath the sand.
I only found one clam worth keeping, so I carried it around for a while, in my little black plastic bag. After some time exploring the creatures (starfish, crabs – some as small as tiny ticks! – clams, mussels, various urchins and many other interesting sea life that I don’t have a name for), we headed back toward the main beach. We were supposed to pool all our findings together, but last minute, I was thinking, “Oh man, this lil dude is gonna boil, all because I dug him up!” That thought didn’t set well with me, so I whirled my arm back and chunked it as hard as I could, back to the sea.
I probably would have felt good about my random act of kindness toward the li’l creature, had he made it to the water. However, he ricocheted off a rock and his shell busted into two and went flying in separate directions.
So much for trying to save him, huh?
I actually felt pretty bad, for a few moments, envisioning him slowly drying-up into a shriveled mass while the tide crept in closer and closer, sucking him back into its grasp, giving him one last breath of life.
:) Okay, that may be taking it a wee bit far. :)
After that, we walked up to a seaside restaurant where we sat around low tables on flat pillows and shared a traditional Korean meal (the pictures at the link at the bottom of this entry will show you what lunch looked like).
We then hopped back on the bus and ventured out to a reed field; the fourth largest in the country (about 60,000 acres). When they first told us that we’d be visiting a reed field, you could feel it in the air that the general attitude was “Whoop-dee-doo,” but it really was a neat experience.
Here is an excerpt from my journal entry that day:
“…Rugged hillsides, where purple’s drinking green, and the tall feathery necks of the reeds are whispering secrets and shushing the riots inside our souls…
Just listen.”
There were paths throughout the reed field, with reed stalks looming high above our heads. You could hear people’s voices and you could tell that they were near, but the reeds were so thick, you couldn’t see the people lurking within them. It was cool.
(Although I do have my own pictures to share, until I am able to get them uploaded, you can indulge in the ones found here: http://www.noslen.com/trip/ . It is the website of a NSET who works for the same district as I do – he has been working hard to photographically record his sojourn.)
Friday, November 9, 2007
Thirty Twice
Not everyone gets to turn 30 twice in their lifetime. I have a strong feeling I will be one of those rare individuals who gets to say that she did. And no, I don’t mean that I’ll be like Aunt Rosie and say that I stopped having birthdays after 29. I’m still having birthdays. The kicker is, Koreans include the time spent in the womb when calculating age. When a child is born, they round-up: So, the day he is born, he is considered one year old.
When in Korea, do as Koreans do (unless it includes the digestion of questionable things).
This year, I turned 30 in Korean age.
The way I see it, when I get back to the US, in about 10 months, that will give me two months to experience being 29 years old, and then in October of 2008, I’ll turn 30 once again. I will then be 30 in American age.
But age ain’t nothin’ but a number…
Right, Mother Nature?
When in Korea, do as Koreans do (unless it includes the digestion of questionable things).
This year, I turned 30 in Korean age.
The way I see it, when I get back to the US, in about 10 months, that will give me two months to experience being 29 years old, and then in October of 2008, I’ll turn 30 once again. I will then be 30 in American age.
But age ain’t nothin’ but a number…
Right, Mother Nature?
Keultarae Candy Video
Here is a video of the keultarae candy I mentioned in a previous entry. Check it out. If the link doesn’t work, then you can search on youtube.com for “Kkultarae Candy in Seoul, Korea.” (Thanks again to Eric for the video.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZSkJMdzxfM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZSkJMdzxfM
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Other Odds & Ends
One curiosity I had before coming to South Korea was what using the restroom would be like. Although it is legal to drop your pants relieve yourself in public, I have only seen it once. And the one time I saw it was when a father let his daughter go pee on the sidewalk. She was about 3, I’d say, and part of me was like, ‘Well, they’re out and about, public restrooms are not readily available in this area, and like Little Orphan Annie says: “When ya gotta go, ya gotta go.”’ I have not yet dropped my pants to pee on the sidewalk, and most likely, that won’t happen. But I have had interesting experiences behind stall doors. Most toilets in my school are recessed pots. Anyone who knows me better than they probably wish they did, knows I am not a squatter! I don’t know why; it just is not a talent with which I have been blessed. So, anytime the single western-style toilet has been on the blink or occupied, I’ve had to utilize the squatty pot. About a week ago was the first time I said aloud my procedure in this style of restroom, and since I’ve told a few people already, why not tell it to the entire WWW? When I use this style of toilet, I have to completely remove my drawers, hang them on the hook, “go,” then of course put my pants back on. The thought of “missing” and my pants getting in the way is just too much of a chance to take, so I take charge and bypass the opportunity to develop my most embarrassing moment. ☺ For the record, it really doesn’t take me but a few seconds longer – I’ve gotten to where I can quickly strip and quickly dress in the bathroom stall. ☺
Public drinking is also okay – however, like the fecal matter, I really don’t see many people walking around with alcoholic beverages in their hands. The two or three times I’ve seen it, they have not been Korean people; they’ve been Western guys. And no, I don’t walk the streets with one in my own hand, although it has tempted me a couple of times. ☺ Kinda like Vegas – if it’s legal there, why not do it just for the mere sake of taking advantage of it due to being restricted from it my whole life. ☺
Just because I haven’t seen any Korean men carousing about with cans of Cass or bottles of soju, doesn’t mean I haven’t seen the result of alcohol consumption in large quantities in their facial expressions and body movements. It’s common to see men in business suits stumbling through the streets, any day of the week. Many times, they have a buddy who is either yanking them out of the way of an oncoming bus, or shoving them into a cab against their will.
For the most part, I think the kids like me (and that feeling is reciprocated – for the most part - ;) ) but I will ashamedly tell you that I made two students cry in the same day! (Two different classes) It was awful!! The first boy cried because we were going around the room doing an activity where the students had to stand up and speak, and I think he just didn’t want to do that. Tears welling-up in his eyes were a strong indication of his frustration. When I noticed, I said, “It’s okay, we can come back to you,” but I was too late ‘cause he put his head down on his desk and began sobbing.
The other situation, I feel MUCH worse about. We were doing a unit on “Who is She?” and I was playing a game with the students sort of like “I Spy” where I was describing students and then I’d say either “Who is he?” or “Who is she?” after I gave a few clues. When I was describing one particular girl, after my three clues, I said, “Who is he?” and the uproar from the students made me realize it was a SHE not a HE. She was so embarrassed and started crying. I don’t remember ever feeling that bad about something that happened in my classroom! In my defense though, yesterday, that same girl came into the classroom to give something to Linda (we share a room) and after she left, I began telling the story to Linda, and she said, “No, that’s not a girl. That’s a boy.” So…apparently I’m not the only one who thinks that. Needless to say, I’m so glad that that unit is over!
Public drinking is also okay – however, like the fecal matter, I really don’t see many people walking around with alcoholic beverages in their hands. The two or three times I’ve seen it, they have not been Korean people; they’ve been Western guys. And no, I don’t walk the streets with one in my own hand, although it has tempted me a couple of times. ☺ Kinda like Vegas – if it’s legal there, why not do it just for the mere sake of taking advantage of it due to being restricted from it my whole life. ☺
Just because I haven’t seen any Korean men carousing about with cans of Cass or bottles of soju, doesn’t mean I haven’t seen the result of alcohol consumption in large quantities in their facial expressions and body movements. It’s common to see men in business suits stumbling through the streets, any day of the week. Many times, they have a buddy who is either yanking them out of the way of an oncoming bus, or shoving them into a cab against their will.
For the most part, I think the kids like me (and that feeling is reciprocated – for the most part - ;) ) but I will ashamedly tell you that I made two students cry in the same day! (Two different classes) It was awful!! The first boy cried because we were going around the room doing an activity where the students had to stand up and speak, and I think he just didn’t want to do that. Tears welling-up in his eyes were a strong indication of his frustration. When I noticed, I said, “It’s okay, we can come back to you,” but I was too late ‘cause he put his head down on his desk and began sobbing.
The other situation, I feel MUCH worse about. We were doing a unit on “Who is She?” and I was playing a game with the students sort of like “I Spy” where I was describing students and then I’d say either “Who is he?” or “Who is she?” after I gave a few clues. When I was describing one particular girl, after my three clues, I said, “Who is he?” and the uproar from the students made me realize it was a SHE not a HE. She was so embarrassed and started crying. I don’t remember ever feeling that bad about something that happened in my classroom! In my defense though, yesterday, that same girl came into the classroom to give something to Linda (we share a room) and after she left, I began telling the story to Linda, and she said, “No, that’s not a girl. That’s a boy.” So…apparently I’m not the only one who thinks that. Needless to say, I’m so glad that that unit is over!
More On Food...
We had rice cakes and mamosa bread for tea time this AM.
Yum on the rice cakes. I don’t really know how to explain them…they are very sticky, smooth rice balls, about the size of a ping pong ball. I’ve only seen white ones and green ones (and as a matter of fact, I don’t think the green ones are made of rice, yet of some type of green vegetable). They are rice-tasting on the outside and sweet on the inside. It’s a type of seongpyeon. During Chuseok, or Korean Thanksgiving, seongpyeon is a popular food item, but it’s a little different from what I had today; the kind at Chuseok has honey in the middle of the rice cake.
Mamosa bread has jam and what seemed like cream cheese in layers. It was pretty good.
In shopping areas, they have keultarae stands and it’s so fun to watch them make it. Usually it is 3 or 4 guys singing and chanting and describing the candy-making process. It is made of honey and it’s stringy; it actually looks like thin white strings – it’s amazing to watch. I'm no math whiz, but there is a mathematical concept behind it: they start out one string, then it turns into 2 strings, then it turns into 4, then it turns into 16. So, I think it's like this:
1 string, 2 strings, then 2 to the 2nd power, 2 to the 3rd power, 2 to the 4th power, 2 to the 5th power, 2 to the 6th power and so on, until they get to 1024 strands and that makes one batch.
It really is amazing to watch – they do it quickly so it’s impossible (for me, anyway) to be able to tell how they are doing it. It’s like they take the strings and dip them down into what appears to be flour, and twist the strings through their fingers and when they shake off the excess powder, the number of strings have multiplied.
Wow! ;)
I know a guy who has a video of it so when I figure out how to upload videos to this thing, I will enlighten you. :)
Yum on the rice cakes. I don’t really know how to explain them…they are very sticky, smooth rice balls, about the size of a ping pong ball. I’ve only seen white ones and green ones (and as a matter of fact, I don’t think the green ones are made of rice, yet of some type of green vegetable). They are rice-tasting on the outside and sweet on the inside. It’s a type of seongpyeon. During Chuseok, or Korean Thanksgiving, seongpyeon is a popular food item, but it’s a little different from what I had today; the kind at Chuseok has honey in the middle of the rice cake.
Mamosa bread has jam and what seemed like cream cheese in layers. It was pretty good.
In shopping areas, they have keultarae stands and it’s so fun to watch them make it. Usually it is 3 or 4 guys singing and chanting and describing the candy-making process. It is made of honey and it’s stringy; it actually looks like thin white strings – it’s amazing to watch. I'm no math whiz, but there is a mathematical concept behind it: they start out one string, then it turns into 2 strings, then it turns into 4, then it turns into 16. So, I think it's like this:
1 string, 2 strings, then 2 to the 2nd power, 2 to the 3rd power, 2 to the 4th power, 2 to the 5th power, 2 to the 6th power and so on, until they get to 1024 strands and that makes one batch.
It really is amazing to watch – they do it quickly so it’s impossible (for me, anyway) to be able to tell how they are doing it. It’s like they take the strings and dip them down into what appears to be flour, and twist the strings through their fingers and when they shake off the excess powder, the number of strings have multiplied.
Wow! ;)
I know a guy who has a video of it so when I figure out how to upload videos to this thing, I will enlighten you. :)
Learning the Language
Well, I’m not asking people on the street and in shops if they know how to speak Korean, anymore, which is good. I had full intentions on signing up for a free language course offered by the Culture Center, but long story short, my co-teacher, Linda, and I have decided to provide each other with a language exchange. After classes, we will teach each other about 20 minutes each per day. I think she will be able to teach me enough to ensure that I pass an exit exam so that I can begin taking a language course at the Culture Center next month. We’ll see how all that pans out.
Other than that, I’m slowly learning Hangeul (the Korean alphabet). When I’m able to decipher a word, I get all pumped up like I remember by Kindergarteners did, last year, when things began to ‘click’ with them. It’s quite exciting. ☺
If You See a Coin, Pick it up, Then All Day You'll Have Good Luck
This was something I’d intended on blogging about at the very beginning of my sojourn, but I never did. So, I’m going to back-peddle and reminisce about something special that happened to me. I know some people may find it hokey, but I have to remind myself that I am not writing for “some people”; I’m writing for myself. ☺
First, a preamble: I will have you know that I’ve always had this thing with numbers. I believe that numbers play a large part in the way of the world; probably in such a way that we will never fully understand. I think numbers have meaning; at least, in my own life, they have proved to hold very deep meaning.
Prelude number two: My dad passed away about 8 1/2 years ago. He had been a very important person in my life, to put it ever so lightly. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him, missed him, wished he were still here. And every once in a while, when I put my life on pause to take a strong look at it, I wonder what Dad would say about things I’m doing, paths that I’ve chosen. Even now, after so many years have passed, I still long for his advice…
And now, my story…
My first week in South Korea was spent at the Hyundai Learning Center, a couple of hours away from the city of Seoul, for Orientation. The first morning I awoke in the Land of Morning Calm, I was alone in my room, since my roommate hadn’t yet arrived. I stepped out onto the balcony to take in the mountainous view and as soon as I looked out, it hit me that I was on the other side of the Earth, far from anything remotely familiar to me. I chuckled aloud and said to myself, “What the hell am I doing in South Korea?! Have I lost it?!” Although a slight panic shimmied through me in an electrifying way, I carried on with the day, secretly wrestling Anxiety.
We’d had time gaps between the mandatory meetings for Orientation, so a few of us decided to take advantage of that free time and venture “to town.” After the short bus ride and a leisurely walk, we happened to stumble upon what appeared to be a shrine of some sort. There was a fence around it but it wasn’t locked, so we thought we’d go in to take a look. The place might have been a small cemetery since there were headstone-looking blocks neatly spaced on the ground. (?) It was really neat to see the shrine and to examine the things that had been left behind; I assume they were gifts either offered to honor Buddha (since there was a statue of him there) or for the people who were buried there. (I’m not certain on any of this; that is merely my perception of what it might have been.)
We traipsed around a bit before continuing our stroll, and as I was moseying out of the fenced-in area, watching the ground closely so as to not step on any might-be graves, I spotted something shiny on the ground. Realizing it was a coin, I stooped down to pick it up. It was the first Korean coin I’d ever touched, or even seen for that matter, since the money I had exchanged at the airport was all in bills. Low and behold, I looked at the year of the coin and it read 1999. Immediately, I thought of my dad, because that was the year that he died. At once, I felt a feeling of serenity sweep over my body, and it was then that I had my answer: “No, I’m not crazy for hopping on a plane and sacrificing a year of my life in a foreign country; I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m here for a reason, and Dad is with me.” I truly felt, at that moment, that in some way, Dad was offering encouragement and support, and that made me feel much better about my decision to come here. I kissed Anxiety on the forehead and bid her adieu and haven’t looked back at her since.
The angel and devil on my shoulders quickly argued back and forth as to whether or not I should keep the coin, and I didn’t want to listen to the bickering or wait around to find out who won the spat, but instead I listened to my Id and kept the coin. I told myself that it was probably not a gift someone had left behind, yet mistakenly dropped, since it was near the fence and not near the shrine or near any tombstones.
(I keep that coin in my tennis shoe, and I think of that situation every time I put them on.)
Another strange thing about this trip so far is that one of the gals whom I have befriended found out that she’s pregnant. No, no, no she didn’t get knocked up by a Korean dude, and I doubt that it was an immaculate conception. She was pregnant before coming here; she just didn’t know it until recently. (How’s that for timing?!) When she shared the news with me, I congratulated her and asked when her due date was. In the few short moments when she was recalling the exact date the doctor had given her, racing through my head was, “She’s going to say April 29th. She’s going to say April 29th. She’s going to say April 29th.” Take a guess at what date she revealed to me? Yep, you guessed it right – April 29th…the date of my father’s death.
Once again, I felt a sense of serenity wisp over me… Crazy as it may sound...
Sure, it’s possible that the “numbers” thing that goes on in my head is merely coincidental.
But a big part of me hopes that it isn’t.
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