Ranting American

I hate Korea today. Today Korea wears the soulless face of the immigration office where I spent a stifling 2 hours, and another sweaty 2 trying to find it. And then, of course, I have to go back because I didn't have all the needed documents for my alien registration card. Today more than any other day, I feel like an alien. A foreigner with all the rights and privileges therein: the right to get lost, get confused, get disgruntled, get discouraged, get homesick for a life that is easier to navigate, and feel very, very lonely.

I splurged on a cab ride back home, and then splurged on a carb/fat/calorie bomb by going to Pizza Hut and eating a cheese-stuffed crust pizza (granted it was a child's size - I didn't go too nuts) and drinking two bottles of beer. I wanted the comfort of cheese and booze, and in my feeling-oh-so-sorry-for-myself state of mind, I also wanted to sit somewhere that reminded me of home. Even though at home I would never darken the door of a Pizza Hut because I think it's horrid, today it felt like a little slice of heaven, pun intended. Not to mention the fact that Pizza Hut here is an actual sit down restaurant with a higher grade of pizza, so it had an even more comforting effect than one back home would have.

But, even here amidst the familiarities of an American chain restaurant, I am clearly still in Korea. Only here do they sweeten the pizza dough with sugar, and put sweet potato mousse in the crust if you request it. And corn and potatoes are standard toppings. And Pizza Hut's showcase pizza right now has tomato sauce, mozzerella cheese, fried shrimp, and coconut flakes. One of my co-workers once ordered a pizza from a different establishment and they put blueberry jam on it. Korea does not understand pizza.

There have been many days where missing the people I love has felt like an actual physical pain, like someone is trying to pull my heart out of my ribcage with a string. There have been many days I have longed for the clothes and shoes I left at home since all of my belongings (including my wardrobe) had to be pared down to fit into 2 pieces of luggage, and no chance buying new things since shoes and clothes here are made for women who are 5'2" size 2. That hasn't been me since I was 7 years old. There have been many days I've wished something other than Korean Top 40 music - which is the most brain-grating uber cutesy gaggy synth pop I have ever heard - would assault my ears every place I go. But today was the first day I wanted to go home. Today I missed the United States, and as I've heard other ex-pats say, I felt a new longing for my country. Like an "I could kiss the ground at the feet of the State of Liberty" kind of feeling.

And I believe that on the other side of these feelings is a figurative shore I will one day reach. This is a storm tossed, topsy turvy, often a little yucky feeling position I'm in, but that is what I've realized in my life thus far is part of the experience of growing. Of stretching. It ain't all fun and games. I voluntarily put myself in this position because I knew I was stunted. Bored. Not growing. On the more peaceful figurative shore I hope to land on at the end of this year, I think I will know how to be more patient in hope even when it feels like my heart's being ripped out. I'll be a little less vain and materialistic, knowing I can go a year without needing my clothes to define me. I will be more tolerant of music that I can't stand... maybe. And I will never forget how important home is, not just for me, but for every human being alive. I hope I will have an open heart to others I meet who are aliens in strange places. When I was telling my friend about the deep loneliness that sets-in sometimes here, she told me that as a new mom whose husband was working a lot at the time, she was also feeling lonely and overwhelmed. "We all have our Koreas," she said. So true...

With two hours to kill staring at a wall at the immigration office, and at one of the worst passport-sized photos I've ever taken, looking wild-eyed and frightened (and why didn't I wear make-up today?) I couldn't help but get a little ponderous. My true home is a place I've never seen, but I know it in my heart. It's where my Father is and He's preparing a place there just for me. While I'm here in this body, on this shakey ground, He's the one who steadies me, who strengthens me, who blesses me, and who sometimes showers me with His love so profoundly that I almost can't stand it.

And I know that whether it's later tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, I will forgive Korea for her nastiness to me today. I'm already beginning to thaw a little.

These are some photos of a ceremonial "changing of the guards" type of production. Gina and I happened upon this while looking for the Seoul Museum of Art to catch the Renoir exhibit. We work every afternoon 6 days a week, so to do anything outside of our little city takes quite a bit of effort and planning, and usually involves some sacrifice of sleep. On this particular day, we decided to go to Seoul on Friday, which meant we had to leave here at 8am (it's about an hour and a half of bus and subway to get to the museum) and we barely made it back in time for work, but it was absolutely worth it. I mean, come on, it's Renoir! It was a pretty stunning collection, too, and though I don't pretend to know anything about art, I was moved to tears by some of his paintings. He was described as the "painter of joy" in our leaflets, and after having seen his work in person, I understand why. The paint actually glowed sometimes, and I wondered how it was possible that a woman's gold bracelet could actually have the tangible shimmer of gold, and how sometimes a woman's skin could be as luminous as what I can only imagine an angel's would be. Gina, who was able to hear the only-in-Korean headphone tour, said Renoir used something in his paints to achieve this effect, but I still believe it had something more to do with a God-given ability to capture innocence and beauty.

We also ate budae-jiggae, which I had heard about but had never tried. I should have taken a picture of it, but I was too hungry in the moment to think of capturing it. It's a strange mixture of ramen noodles, dokh (delicious pasta-like rice dough, sort of like fat penne) spam, sausage, macaroni noodles... pretty much anything you can think to throw in a pot. "Budae" means "war", and "Jiggae" means "soup", so you're basically eating, "War Soup". As you can imagine because of the spam and macaroni, this came about during the Korean war and is a direct result of the rations provided by the American military. I have to say, it's pretty interesting, because it's sort of like diving for treasure. While we were eating it, I kept saying things to Gina like, "Here's a potato!", or, "Look, I got an Udon noodle!" Lots of processed meats, lots of vegetables, lots of processed starches. And, like almost everything else that's been served to me in Korea, lots of deliciousness, though the calorie count on this one was so high that I'm not likely to eat it again. But I'll try anything once. Except dog.

Which reminds me of a fascinating little tidbit. I ask my students questions at the beginning of each hour to encourage them to talk, and they're usually extraordinarily easy so as to be unintimidating, particularly for the kids who are at a very low level in speaking ability. A couple of weeks ago, I asked, "What is your favorite food?" I got a lot of standard answers, but one boy said, "Dog." I was surprised, because for most people, if they do eat dog, it's at specific times of the year, namely in the summer, as the dog meat is presumed to be energy-giving and beneficial in all sorts of non-medical but what-worked-for-our-ancestors-works-for-us traditional ways. It's also very expensive and difficult to come by in urbanized areas, so I was puzzled as to how this could be a favorite food. After grilling the boy for a while, I learned that when he visits his grandmother's house in the country, his uncle goes out and hunts wild dogs. I asked if he shot them, and he said absolutely not because that was illegal. (I since learned it's illegal to own a gun in Korea.) Instead, the uncle slits their throats. So, everytime he goes to his grandmother's house, they eat wild/stray dog soup. He said it's quite good, clearly, because it's his favorite food. Then, when I brought this up with Gina, she said traditionally, the dog would be caught, hung up, and beaten to death. Though this sounds incredibly inhumane, it was the best way to tenderize the meat. Apparently this doesn't happen much anymore since the majority of people don't even eat dog, and also more people see dogs as pets than as food nowadays. But this was all fascinating new information to me. In the midst of the answers of "pizza", and "spaghetti", and "ramen", and "dokh-poh-gee", I have to appreciate a country where a child can answer, "dog". This is why Korea is never boring.
These next photos are of a lunch I recently had with my gorgeous and incredibly kind yoga instructor, En-Jhung. I have a gym in the basement of my building (hello! convenient!) and met her on the day I joined. She has always been so incredibly gracious to me, apart from being a kick-butt yogi, and though we have a stark language barrier since I speak practically no Korean and she speaks only minimal English, we have some kind of connection anyway. It's hard for us to communicate, but we've both made it clear to each other that we enjoy each other's company. She is one of the many lights God has brought to me on this journey. We had ridiculously good mandu (Korean dumplings) a few weeks ago, and for this lunch we had the best galby (marinated beef barbeque) I've had since I got here. She brought her children who were both adorable and spoke some English, and we had a really nice time trying to communicate and stuffing ourselves. Oh my gosh... it was so good. I wish I could somehow convey with words how unbelievable so much of the food is here. I already know there will be days when I get back home that I will be driving around looking for a Korean food fix and will long for what I could get so easily here. Trust me, I am not taking it for granted. I just hope my deep appreciation will not be reflected in a 30 pound weight gain...

So in late August, I ended up going to Hong Kong for a whirlwind overnight trip to get my work visa. Hour and a half bus ride to the airport, hours waiting at the airport, 2 hour flight to China, hour and a half ride to my hotel, then walk to the embassy, walk back, repeat the next day. All of this on 4 hours of sleep the first day. I can't say it was glamorous, and though I really just wanted to stay in my hotel room watching English television (I don't have tv) and didn't really want to go outside into the 90+ degree heat with 100% humidity again, I kept thinking, "It's China. When will I be here again? Gotta try and take some pictures and experience the culture." And, to be quite frank, I was unimpressed. I was staying in the business district, and after having read so much Chinese literature, and watching "The Joy Luck Club" about 200 times, my expectations for China were pretty high, but what I found there was disappointing even if I hadn't expected anything. It's just a big city with big buildings and lots of foreigners. Yes, there's another Starbucks. Oh, look, a McDonalds! And apart from the American influence, there was the influence of big business and globalization everywhere. A little boring, and more than a little depressing. This is not the China of my dreams - in fact, I struggled to find a Chinese restaurant. There was an English pub, a Mexican food place, a gym with the word "California" in the title. There were plenty of Chinese street vendors, but I couldn't find a place to sit down for something that seemed "really Chinese". I was hoping to get dumplings, and found a place that served them. There was a newspaper clipping on the front saying the food was really good, there were full tables inside (usually a good sign) and my expectations were rising. But when I ate them, all I could think was, "These are better in Korea." There was too much onion in them, they were too "one note", and I think I'm so used to all the Korean side dishes I'm served all the time, I felt a little deprived of color and interest.

And I ate them after spending a sweaty afternoon walking around taking pictures, two of which were of strip clubs. This is the thing that breaks my heart about Asia, is that prostitution and degradation of women is so prevalent. Even in my neighborhood, there are a myriad of places with spinning barbor poles out front, which means there is prostitution inside. Though the strip joints here in Hong Kong were far more overt than what you would see in Korea, it's still all the same business, and it's still everywhere. And it's not in a back alley. These establishments were right behind my hotel, in the middle of the business district, a block from Starbucks and right next to a Mexican food restaurant. There's no hiding it here. Sex is for sale, and it's hard to pretend that that's not one of the main reasons so many foreign men are here. It's certainly not as bad a vibe as, say, Phnom Phen in Cambodia - at least the women here are all adults - but it still casts a dark pall on this experience, and you can't help but wonder, "What can I do to change this?"

These last two pictures are of the lone traveler trying to be silly with her camera in her hotel room. Alone. Kind of sad in retrospect, but I was trying to bring you all there with me! When I first got there, I was excited. And the bus ride into town was really beautiful, because the touchdown and the ride both really displayed how beautiful this country is - so much water, so much green, such a beautifully positioned bit of the world. But then as the bus started pulling into Hong Kong, the greenery abated and gave way to massive buildings, trash, areas of poverty, areas of opulence, honking horns... the usual. I pretend to be shocked by the view from my window, but I really was just pretending. It was thrilling to be in Hong Kong because, heck, it was Hong Kong! But I really wanted to get back to what now feels like My Korea, in particular My Neighborhood and My Life. If nothing else, the black big city-ness of Hong Kong made me appreciate even more my humble little place in what is fast becoming my beloved Korea.