Korean Acupuncture

So, to begin with, let me say that this last Monday, January 4th, was apparently the most snow this region in South Korea has seen in approximately 70 years. On that Monday, when I walked to work in a silent, gorgeous snowdrift, smiling like a child at the beautiful blanket covering everything, and even after our hogwan "shut down" due to the snow, and we were all told to go home and come BACK on Saturday (I won't get into that right now), I was still thinking, "This is all totally normal. This is a typical winter in SK." It was only the next day when I saw my sister's facebook post with a link to a yahoo article about my history making situation that I realized this amount of snow was an unusual occurance. It's really cold here - no, it's not Quebec, or Antarctica, or any other various numbers of uber-extreme climates, but it's very extreme for me. The words of the Korean man I met in the airport on the way here last June have echoed in my mind more than once: "Korea is a land of extremes." It's definitely the hottest summer I've lived through, and now is proving to be one of the coldest winters. But, again, my experience is limited.

Okay, so on to acupuncture! Gina had been telling me (as have other friends of mine here, both Korean and foreign) about the benefits of acupuncture. One person was relieved of menstrual cramps, another of a painful tennis elbow, another with supposed reproductive benefits, and the list goes on and on. There happens to be an acupuncturist in my work building, and Gina had been taking her fiance there. His body had been ravaged by this cold, tense and unhappy, and he had been regularly visiting the acupuncturist for relief. She told me that before she went away and our opportunities for Korean experiences together would be impossible, just as with the octupus, it was a now or never situation, and we needed to go. With my insurance, the visit would cost approximately $6USD. Without insurance, about $9USD. Either way, I figured there was absolutely no harm in trying it out.

We walked into the office, which smelled a lot like burning herbs, and I filled-in a form very quickly. (Essentially just my name and address.) As with most things in Korea (at least in my neck-of-the-suburbs), the office was filled with mismatched furnishings, shoddy wallpaper - this was not your Western "clinical setting" - but the air was warm, and the Korean-only speaking staff was just as warm with me. Gina and I sat in the waiting room and drank a tiny paper cup full of a tea made of a mishmash of herbs that Gina said was "good for the health", as so many things here are. It tasted like licorice, was very dark like coffee, and was brewed in a coffee pot. Patrons could help themselves while waiting.

Soon our female acupuncturist came out and ushered us into her tiny office. Gina had been there before, so I was the one being examined. She spoke only Korean, so Gina was my interpreter. She asked me what was bothering me, and though it never occurred to me to visit the acupuncturist for any specific reason, I immediately thought of this recurring pain I've had in my lower left hip for more than a year. Going from a sitting to a standing position, or any movement up to down, has sometimes been so painful that I let out an involuntary, "Ahhhhh!", and then wait it out. So I explained the situation, thinking, "Who knows? It could work!" But, in all honesty, I was hoping more for an interesting experience than for any great healing.

I wish I'd written down everything she told me in the office. One of my favorites was that since I am a Westerner, my body temperature is lower than Asians, therefore I shouldn't have cold milk or eggs in the morning. She also said I shouldn't drink mekjew (beer) because of my body type. (Luckily I don't much anyway.) She also told me to lose 5 kgs (thank you very much) and that my skin was very dry so I should eat more oysters and eel. She seemed very disappointed about the condition of my tongue, and asked me if I was often very thirsty. As she was asking me these questions, she was feeling around and rubbing my legs and calves, as well as my arms, and a little bit of my neck. Oh, and she also told me that I had very pretty eyes (which warmed me up before the "lose 5kgs comment"... She's not stupid...)

So off Gina and I went to the tables. We were able to lie next to each other in the same "space". Gina had requested something for her "baby house" since she was soon to be married and had been concerned about all the inner workings down there. One of the nurses put a pad on her abdomen, and then brought what appeared to be a gardener's pot full of some kind of slowly burning herb, and placed it on top of the pad. She then connected it to a ventilator near the bed, and Gina rested (and napped) in that position for the duration of my procedure, which went as follows:

1.) Whilst lying on my back, acupuncturist places various needles into seemingly random spots, after having felt around for a while. For example, she would place a needle strategically in my foot only after having felt for a thoroughfare through my leg. I would say at this visit there were only about 10 pins, but I could be wrong. It was less than I'd expected. It wasn't painful - if you've ever been tattooed, the sensation on the skin is about 1/10th of that. The amazing thing was that sometimes, particularly in my foot and in my left hand, she would place a pin and wiggle it around, and I would actually *feel* it in my lower left hip, the place where the pain was. I was beginning to think at that point, "Hey, maybe there's something to this?"

2.) After all the pins were pulled out (about 15 minutes) I was told to turn and lie on my stomach, at which point my jeans were pulled down so that my whole, um... derrier was exposed to the light of day. Hey, I'd already been completely naked in front of hundreds of female strangers at jimjilbangs, so why not feel totally comfortable with just my bum hanging out at the acupuncturist? Then probably 30 or so pins were inserted all around my backside and the bottoms of my feet, and removed after another 15 minutes.

3.) Still lying on my stomach, the machine came with the electrodes (this may not be the right word) and they stuck the 4 little suckers all over my back. The machine would send pulses and when I turned around I could actually see the muscles and the skin expand and contract. It was a strange sensation.

4.) I was told to put my pants back on and come back tomorrow. Which I did.

Gina was unhappy with her baby house treatment. She said she could never feel the heat, but the nurse said her circulation was poor, so she wasn't surprised that she couldn't feel it. I have not yet understood what Gina is meant to do to improve her circulation, only that it is, in fact, not appropriate for babies to make a home in. I told her she should drink more water - the woman lives on coffee - but then, I am not a licensed anything.

On the next day, more of the same, except with these few additions:

1.) More pins. This time one was put into my face, in my lower left jaw (that was the most painful) and she put one into my left hand that sent a strange surge of some brain chemical throughout my body. I could actually *feel* the place in my hand connected to my brain, and then whatever was released in my brain going everywhere else. It was a trip.

2.) This time I got a different treatment before the electrodes when lying on my stomach. They took what looked like ceramic teacups and blasted them with fire, then adhered them to my lower back. I couldn't see, but I think the nurse used about 12 cups. Some of them hurt like the dickens initially, but I told myself it was a healing pain. After all, this is a time-tested, hundreds of years old practice, so I could at least appreciate that I wasn't going to experience anything that many others before me hadn't also undergone. I am no wussy - if someone else can endure it, then so can I. And Koreans are not wussies. (Consequently, after showering the next day, I had 2 teacup shaped burns on my backside. They have since disappeared.)

3.) It was longer. I got the impression that on the first day, they gave me the "foreigner dose". Maybe they weren't sure if I could take it? They treated me a little more carefully the first day, and the second day seemed more intense. The first day was a total of about 60 minutes, and the second day closer to 90.

After both sessions, I felt incredibly relaxed, almost dangerously so (because I had to go back to work after each). I also had a really puffy face. I don't know what that was about. Toxins leaving or whatnot? Regardless, here is the final verdict after my last treatment on January 1st: My lower left hip hasn't hurt once since then. We're talking over a year of pretty much every time I stood up from the computer, or from a couch, or from any position, I would feel the surge of pain, and then back to normal. Since the 1st nothing, not a thing.

Some people might read this and say, "Well, Vanessa, it's just the power of mind over matter," but the thing is, I didn't think it would work. I wasn't skeptical, but was more humorously experimental. I frankly fully expected my hip to still hurt, but my mind to be more open to new experiences. I have to say that the sensation of an experienced acupuncturist poking your hand, and then you feeling it in your lower left hip, is something to make you pause and think. Then beyond that to have them accomplish what they set out to do... Well, I don't know enough about the subject and I'm certainly no M.D. or even anything remotely near a science B.A., but I know what happened with me.

And I know that the next time my hip hurts, I'm climbing the stairs in my work building and visiting Mrs. Awesome Korean Acupuncturist, insert-degree-here.

Christmas: In Hindsight

Well, my Christmas was sub-par to say the least. I guess I should have expected the "holiday blues" to kick in, but I really wasn't prepared for it. Once Christmas Eve rolled around, and I was sitting in a training session for 3 hours before working into the night, I realized, "This pretty much sucks." Then rolling out of bed on Christmas morning exhausted and heading off to teach again was also less-than-joyful. Though I was able to catch the afterglow of my friend's Christmas party, I was very tired and needed to head home early to sleep before waking early to catch the skype call with my family before work. That was indeed the best part of the holiday. My whole family gathered around the computer and opening the presents I'd sent them, and watching me open the presents they'd sent me. I realized yet again how blessed I am to have such an amazing family, who would organize their whole day to spend some precious time with me. I am very, very thankful for that.

I am also thankful to my new friend Chohee who I met in my yoga class, and who left a present for me with my doorman which I opened a few days after Christmas. In it, with the very sweet present she'd bought, she had enclosed 4 cards which she had lovingly decorated. One of them had the verse, "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." (Jeremiah 83:3) She had no idea how grounded in all the workaday blah-blah stuff I had been feeling, how lonely, how unmysterious and grey everything had been seeming. She reminded me to look up - life is about more than what we see. Sometimes it's about more than what we experience. God was calling me through that blessed little card to be absorbed in him for a while and listen for the "great and unsearchable" things. He has been reminding me that he's leading me, he is always there, and that there are blessings to be experienced everywhere - sometimes we just need to open different eyes to see them.

And in the end, Christmas is not about gifts, or even about being with loved ones (although those things are extraordinarily good), but it's really about remembering what we have in Christ Jesus and his death and resurrection. When we belive in him, we have new life. We have the same spirit living in us that raised Christ from the dead. We have strength even in our weakness. We have love when we feel loveless, hope when all seems hopeless. We have the only perfect parent, the one who promises, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," and who promises, "I am with you always until the end of the age." Another of Chohee's cards said, "He is always with you, everytime, everywhere." It's not grammatically perfect, but the sentiment is so true. He is. He truly is. And once over the hump of grumpiness and self-pity, I am very grateful for this.

Now to see how grateful and unself-pitying I can be when working 14 hours on New Year's Eve, and all day New Year's Day. To see how open my eyes are to his blessings... I am trying... I really am.

Academy Christmas "Party"

So, this last Saturday the 19th, we were all invited to our business-wide academy Christmas celebration. Actually, I think it may have even been called "Year End" or "Holiday" party, but you get the idea. We work until 8pm on Saturdays at my branch, and the party started at 10pm in Seoul. This was no party, folks. Here's what happened.

We walked in a bit late, since our trek was about an hour and a half, and we didn't get away from Suwon until nearly 9pm. I had heard a rumor in the office that maybe they would be serving steak for dinner. I delayed dinner in anticipation, as many others did, only to find a white paper bag thrust into my hands as we arrived at the movie theater which had been rented out for our "celebration". Once we got our shivering bodies inside (it's deathly cold here right now) and situated in the front row preserved for the tardy folks, we realized the audience was in the midst of watching a movie called, "Black", which is basically "The Miracle Worker" but set in India. As I opened my white paper bag and began discovering the contents - a strange and unappetizing sandwich, a can of Coke, and a package of little bean paste cookies - I realized that our movie was only about 15% English, and the subtitles were in Korean, and I was definitely not getting steak for dinner.

Once the movie was over at around midnight, that's when the performance part of the evening began. (2 minute video of the "highlights" included below.) At this point I was already exhausted and ready for bed. There were some English skits by foreign teachers, as well as Korean skits by native teachers, and some seriously good break dancing by a professional group. That all lasted about 90 minutes. Then at around 1:30am Mr. Song, the DYB founder, took the stage and began to speak about many things, and hand out many awards, all in Korean, and it was about this time that I began to wonder, "Will this ever end?" I am very grateful that it did finally end at 3am. At this point all I could think about was never sitting in a movie theater seat again, and getting home to my bed asap. To my surprise, there were huge DYB buses stationed outside the theater to swoop everyone to the party. At 3am. Everyone was going to be shuttled off to drink soju at some place the company had rented, and most of my co-workers were suddenly full of vim and vigor, ready to party. I couldn't believe it. I was so totally spent, fried, and my much more hardy Korean friends looked and acted fresh and rosy-cheeked and excited. Luckily, I found two teachers who were more interested in going home, and I was able to get a ride back to Suwon. I think I finally fell asleep around six.

I have had three nights out with Korean co-workers since I've been here that lasted until around 7am, but all of those times we were having fun. In fact, every night of my life that I've managed to stay up until the sun rose have been so delightful that sleep would be anticlimactic. This is the first time that I've been forced to stay up so late and got absolutely no enjoyment out of it. It was a little depressing.

In fact, it was the beginning of another little downward spiral for me. It was a yucky way to start the holiday week. Talk about anticlimactic... We have a meeting the morning of Christmas Eve, then work that night, then work Christmas morning and the morning the following day. I realize that I'm not in a Western country, and I need to respect the way things work here, and I don't mean Korea any disrespect, but I wish I could join my friends here for Christmas. If you could indulge my self-pity here for a moment, I am the only foreigner I know who is working on that day. In fact, there are very few Koreans I know - outside of my company - who are working on that day.

But, alas... C'est la vie. I will survive. And, hey, at least I now have an interesting story about a work meeting that lasted until 3am.

Song of Hope

I've been the songbird of solitude and I've learned to be lost and alone.

Learned to sing solemn and frightened tunes, they were all this girl had ever known.

Oh, but there beneath the noise of fear there's a melody I hear.

I let go of the sad songs 'cause I'm learning a new one.

It sounds like, "Hallelujah". A song of hope.

I've been afraid I've been terrified and it's been my song for many years.

Lifted so many prayers to the sky and sleepless nights wondering who hears.

Oh, but there beneath the noise of doubt there's a voice that's singing out.

I let go of the sad songs 'cause I'm learning a new one.

It sounds like, "Hallelujah". A song of hope.

There's a new song in my heart - I could sing it all day.

There's a new song in my heart - and everything's changed.

I let go... I let go... I let go.

Live Octupus

I bought a camera today, (it took me all of about 12 hours after getting paid to realize the necessary expense, and also to get excited about buying a new gadget. fyi, it's pink) and good thing, too, because today we ate live octupus! I have heard about this since even before I came here, and Gina and I decided it was a "now or never" situation since she's leaving so soon. You can see Ana, Kyung-hee and me in the cab on the way there, and then the bountiful harvest of sashimi, broiled fish, aforementioned octupus, oysters (though Gina said they're not technically oysters, but "oyster's cousin") and all the various accompanying side dishes. We also had a 3rd course of spicy fish soup, but that isn't in the picture. I've included video of the little squirmy guys below.

My take on the octupus was that it tastes a lot like octupus they serve at sushi restaurants, which I believe is boiled. The only real difference in taste was they were a bit more chewy, and a bit slimy. I've always loved octupus sashimi. Of course, beyond taste, was the experience of eating something that is still moving in your mouth and that must be chewed many times to completely "die". If you don't chew it enough, it can still be moving when you swallow it, so hearty chewing is recommended. The most interesting thing about it was the sensation of their little suckers actually sucking at my tongue and the inside of my cheek. The bigger the section you eat, the more powerfully they can "adhere" to you. When taking them off of the bowl, sometimes you literally have to pull at them, because they're sticking very powerfully to the bowl and/or each other, and of course wiggling around almost violently. Good times, people. Honestly, I think that my favorite thing about Korea is that there are so many new things to eat. Please enjoy the video of their hacked off wriggling little tentacles.

Christmas Preamble

Well, it's Christmastime here in Korea, and you can see my humble little tree. Around it are some presents which my mother lovingly wrapped for me to take back with me after my Thanksgiving visit, and to open at some point with them during a skype video call. (If I ever run into those European tech-angels who invented skype, I shall kiss them squarely upon the lips as an earnest, "thank you".) I took this pic with my US cell phone since, sadly, my camera took the last breath in its slow death. Since that time, there have been several events I've wanted evidence of in pictorial form, but, alas, had to deal with the harsh reality. I'm hoping to buy a new one soon, and promise to take some better pics of the holiday happenings here.

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Not surprising, but Christmas in Korea is very different from a Western Christmas. First of all, my academy is open. Yes, I will be working on Christmas eve until 11pm, and then on Christmas morning starting at 9am and going until 3pm. This, obviously, seems strange to a Westerner like me, because I work with children, and if I have to be there, it means the kids have to be there, too. But from what I understand, Christmas here is less about the kids, and more about a romantic day off for couples. It is a national holiday, so all public schools and most businesses are closed, but instead of gathering as a family and watching kids open presents, it's a day for couples to go out and about flaunting their togetherness, whilst single people stay home out of the shame of being seen alone. One of my Korean co-workers who is single told me she's glad to be working that day so she doesn't have to be reminded all day of her relationship status. Also, New Year is a more important holiday here than Christmas. Most of the seemingly Christmas-like decorations say "Happy New Year" instead of "Merry Christmas". On that day, children get money (the older they are, the more they receive) and it's considered more of a celebratory family day. Christmas, like Halloween, is a Western event, and so some Koreans get more into it than others, but it definitely is not the tradition that it is at home. Although this doesn't explain why we're also working New Year's Eve and New Year's Day... but I have given up always trying to understand everything that happens here. Sometimes you just throw up your hands and say, "It's Korea." I will reiterate that English academies are big business here, and the more days one stays open, the more money there is to be made. Even if only 25% of the students come, it's apparently still worth the expense.

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I will miss being home for Christmas - I have never been away from my family for this holiday - but I don't feel any lack of love or "togetherness". So many of us are in the same situation, and there's a lot of comraderie in that, and solidarity, and it helps me to keep my sense of humor about things.

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I will be interested in reporting what goes on at our DYB Christmas party, which will be held on a Saturday night starting at 10pm (since we all work late on that Saturday) and will go until who-knows-what-hour. I will like to see how this big company fetes us, and I've heard these parties have been pretty rowdy in the past. I also haven't observed too much of the dynamic of the hierarchy of Asian business professionals, and I know there are some customary things I need to "brush up" on so that I won't offend anyone in a higher position than me, or who is my elder.

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Gina leaves me in only a matter of weeks. Life here will be very different without her. It makes me teary-eyed to think about it. She and Mauri will be taking off for their honeymoon in Thailand in mid-January, and then visiting his charitable organization in India, and then to Italy. I hope to visit her there when my contract expires this summer. I will miss her more than I can say. It makes me well-up just thinking about it, though I'm so happy for her. Ana, another dear friend with whom I've had a weekly bible study in my room for the past few months, will also be leaving at the end of the month to go study in Seoul and pursue her dream of perfecting her English and moving on to bigger and better things. It will be a month of good-byes, and of changes, but there's also a lot of celebrating to do.

Korea to America and Back Again

Today is my first day back in Korea after having gone to the States for Thanksgiving. I was home for 8 days, using all of my vacation time right at the 6-month mark of my 12 month contract. I am only a tiny bit jetlagged (well, so far!), and feel just contemplative enough to try and blog even through a foggy, sleep-deprived brain. I took my camera, but took not a single picture, in part because my camera is dying a slow death, but mostly because I was so concerned with being in each moment that I forgot to capture said moments on film.

Being home was wonderful, but not in the way I had expected. I don't really know what I expected, but I had envisioned everything in slow-motion and soft-focused, bathed in yellow light. I would well-up with tears thinking about hugging my parents, cutting into a turkey, spending time with my friends, even doing things like taking long bike rides on the beach with my mom (something we've always loved to do together), or shopping in stores where the clothes are long enough and the shoes are big enough, or getting a martini with my best friend and talking for hours. The actual experience of those things was not bathed in yellow light, of course, but was more real, and so then inherently better. I took those bike rides almost everyday. I had the martini (or 2 or 3), and I did a lot of hugging. I definitely went shopping. All of these things were wonderful and felt like they recharged my battery. One of my friends said to "soak up all of the love" when I was at home, and I feel like a sponge that did just that.

But, here's the most surprising thing, and something I hadn't expected: I have changed. Granted, I was only home for 8 days, but even in that time I realized and could sense and discern that I have grown. I think I was able to see this because I was back in the old environment, and the old environment beckoned me to respond with the same fears, the same anxieties, the same mindset that I have been running in like a looped tape going over and over again for the last couple of years. Leading nowhere. And I felt that anxiety try to grip me again while I was home, but it didn't have a hold on me. It doesn't have a hold on me anymore. I think being here, being alone, having to face things, having to find God in the frightening hours, realizing God rushes in like a tidal wave to cover me with his love and grace when I'm in need - this has changed me, refined me a little more, like the biblical metaphor of gold being refined by the fire. Korea has been a gentle fire, I know. I don't pretend to have experienced some of the true flames that others have. But in my own personal journey, this has been significant. Life-changing. I am less and less afraid everyday. I am more and more enamoured of God and less worried about myself. I am more excited and hopeful about the future. I have a song in my heart again. And I'm only half-way through!

The hardest part of being back again will be the lonely hours - I'm not in a house full of people anymore with friends to see in the evening. I'm alone during the day and I work at night. It's a different kind of life. But I have songs to write still, and am learning to appreciate the stillness and the quiet. Maybe it has to do with being comfortable with myself? I don't know...

I realize now it's taking me much longer to write than normal. My brain is a cloudy, messy place, so I should probably retire this entry. More later on what's going on here in Suwon, not just in my head.