A lonely day...

I don't have any new pictures to share today, but am treating this more as a journal entry. I have realized that even after only what today marks Day 15, I long to express myself in my native tongue. Sounds silly, but in Suwon, and at my school in particular, everyone is Korean, and though many teachers speak very, very well, it is still an all-day, everyday adventure in communication. I have become relatively expert at pantomiming my needs with the locals at shops and such, and have already developed what promises to be a very annoying habit of using my hands and arms in wild gesticulating. (This is very helpful in classes with the kids, as well as its general usefulness in living life.)

I am making an attempt to learn Korean, but this will be no easy task. There is no Latin root to associate it with, so it's sort of like being an infant all over again. I have been told that it will take no more than 3 hours to learn to read the language, since it's very scientific and logical, but I am not very scientific and logical, so it feels like Algebra class when I sit down and try to memorize the shapes and correlate them with the sounds. It is not easy for me. What is easier is speaking with correct pronunciation, but I won't know what the heck I'm saying. So far, I can say "hello" (ahn-yahng assehyo), "thank you" (gam-sa-ham-neh-dah) and "beer" (mek-jew). I haven't had the need to use "mek-jew" so far, but it's weird what words will stick when they're taught. (This is also helpful in the classes with kids, because the junior high students will always giggle when their foreign teacher knows Korean for beer.) The weirdest thing I've eaten so far is something called "soon-dye" which, to the best of my knowledge, is cow or pig intestine that's been stuffed with sticky rice. It's grey/black in color, but when you dip it in this spicy sauce, it's actually not bad. Very chewy. Probably not something I would order again, but tasted much better than it's appearance. I now know there are all different types of kimchi, and the occassional whiff of it out of some particular shops on a hot day makes me want to vomit. However, I like it. (Not the urge to vomit, mind you, but the kimchi itself.) Apparently, the shops that age their kimchi longer than the other ones have more of a putrid smell due to the fermentation, though when you taste it it's very good. It just literally smells like death. I'm sure I will get used to it, and probably have already acclimatized somewhat, because my first week here, I would get a gag reflex. Now I just think, "Oh, that's unappetizing." I would also get a gag reflex in my elevator (no elevators here have a/c) which smells like a dirty armpit. Always. Like being smuggled in a ripe, unwashed, ancient armpit to and from my home. Despite the little automatic air freshening robot thingie that will occassionally squirt out an attempt at covering it, that odor is fierce and unyielding. But even that I've grown more and more accustomed to. I don't have to cover my nose anymore.

Today is the first day that I've felt less like a daring adventurer, a fledgling journalist, a girl exploring the world for the heck of it, and felt more like a foreigner in a strange land, far away from the people she loves, wondering what to do with her days. I will say that I think I've had it easier than most. God has provided friends for me, and I have been received with open arms by everyone at my school and my new church home. Most of the teachers at my school spent some time studying abroad and know what it feels like to be "the foreigner", and everyone at my church is an ex-patriate who remembers distinctly his or her first days here. It could be a whole lot worse. But, I think that now that the initial excitement of leaving and transplanting has begun to wear off, the reality of what I've embarked upon has sunk in. And there have been moments up until this point where I've had the exciting realization, "This is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, and this is exactly where I'm supposed to be," which can change in an hour to, "What am I doing here? This was a horrible mistake." But, to be honest, it's mostly the first sentiment, not the second. I think I'm entering the period which is neither elation or despair, but the settling into what it means to be living here.

There was this last Monday when I ventured to Seoul for work, and had to navigate the bus and subway system for the first time. On the way there, not too tragic apart from getting off at the wrong subway stop and walking around in excruciating heat for about 30 minutes, arriving at work a sweaty and disgruntled mess. On the way home, much more tragic as I couldn't find the bus stop (the bus stop home was different from the bus stop there) and then when I did, I waited for 90 minutes and my bus never arrived. After getting on the wrong bus, and heading in God-knows-what direction, I dismounted and spent a bazillion dollars I don't have on a cab ride back to Suwon at about midnight. That left me feeeling really insecure, particularly because I'd only had four hours of sleep due to the dynamite explosions and jackhammering happening outside my building as they build a subway station. This is the explanation for the "air raid" style sirens I'd been hearing; they do the sirens, then a countdown, than "ka-boom"! But, I ask you, does that have to commence at 6:00am? One morning it was 5:30am! This is where Korean work ethic in all of its admirability seems harsh and unfair for those of us who don't get off work until about 11pm.

But, in sharp contrast to all of this whining, I have my dear Korean friend Gina (that's her English name, and all the Korean teachers adopt one at my English school, and thank God because it's going to take me half a year to remember the Korean names) who was available to me via cell phone the whole time, and helped me in the midst of my distress. She was even going to wait up for me and make sure I got home safely. When no one around you speaks your language, and everything is new and strange, and you feel so totally alone, it's amazing how one friendly and caring soul can change your outlook on the world. I don't know what I would have done without her that night, or in several other instances. She's an amazing woman - a godsend - and I am extremely grateful for her. I can probably never repay her for the light she's been to me since I got here, but I am hopeful that once back in the States, or wherever I go, I will have a greater sensitivity for and willingness to help those who find themselves lost and need help getting somewhere. Literally or figuratively, you need someone to show you the way.

I'm thankful for the vulnerability, but it's difficult to be this "in need". I don't know if that's an American thing, a Vanessa thing, a human thing, or all 3, but you can't pretend you're totally in control and everything's as you expected when you can't even read a menu. I can already see how my time here will change me, and I'm actually very grateful to be in a city without a lot of foreigners. It keeps me from running to a safe place and pretending I'm not a bazillion miles from home. It keeps me "on my toes" and remembering my limitations.

So, I felt lonely today. It was pretty bad. But then I realized that I could feel lonely anywhere, and the feeling is not the reality. I am not alone. My Father is with me, and I felt him very acutely today while reading the Bible and crying and praying to Him. He filled me up. And via the internet I had encouragement from friends, and conversation (I feel like skype was created just for me), and realized the world has gotten so much smaller than it used to be. If I were here even 5 years ago, I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone I wanted to for free, and see their faces. I'm not such a brave adventurer so much as I am a needy wanderer who day-to-day stands amazed as all of her needs are met. And so far I think that's a pretty amazing position to be in. No pretending that I am my own provider. No illusions of my own autonomy. No safety nets.

Okay, maybe I am a brave adventurer. And maybe I'm not that at all, but it's a very fun thought to entertain.

One of the teachers at my school - English name Ana - attended the "wine and cheese" party I threw for my co-workers last Saturday night. Wine is a great treat here, because it's all imported, and pretty expensive. Soju - a blend of rice wine and some other very potent alcohol - is readily available and about $1.50 per bottle. Soju is very, very popular here. Anyway, I went to the store for some cheeses, which were very expensive, and some fruit and wine, which are also very expensive. Now all I needed was some crusty baguette and some crackers. At the grocery store (the monolithic "Home Plus") I found a few cheeses, and only rice crackers. At the chain store "Paris Baguette" which is on every street corner here in Korea, I found no baguette. And no crusty bread of any kind. Everything is the consistency of egg bread, very moist, with a hint of sweetness, and totally not right for a wine and cheese party. (I did find kimchi croquettes, however, which I would have been tempted to try were I not so peeved at not finding a baguette. How could they not have one????) So I tried drying out the bread on my hot plate to no avail. The girls ended up drinking the wine, eating the fruit, and eating the Korean food Gina brought for me to sample. After leaving the cheese out to sweat in my hot apartment for hours while we went to sing passionately at norebang (Korean karaoke, hugely popular here), it was all ruined and went into the trashcan. No exaggeration, I'm talking $100 worth of cheese and stupid sweet egg bread.

Anyway, Ana wants to learn guitar and she has one! I'm going to give her lessons in exchange for using her guitar until I can afford to get one, since she doesn't know how to play yet and it just sits in her classroom. This was the highlight of my day today, since I have really missed my guitar very much. And I learned an invaluable lesson: Don't have wine and cheese parties without doing some starch research.

Next post with pictures, I promise.