Let's play "How Will this Story End?"

What can you expect from today's blog?

1-.-   How Will this Story End?

2-.-   Summer in Korea: Photo Gallery

3-.-   Photobombers Anonymous

4-.-   Korean Phrase of the Day

5-.-   Special links ^>^
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1. How Will this Story End?

How to play: I start the story off with a short phrase (in bold). Before reading on, take 5 seconds to guess how the story might end. Go!

1. "Ew, I just don't get it," he whispered to me, hiding his face in the sleeve of my windbreaker. We were at the movies watching Avengers 2 together when Scarlett Johansson and Mark Ruffalo made it awkward and turned up the heat with some nose nuzzling. I was out at the movies with my 12 year old host brother. And how glad I was to learn that he has yet to hit puberty. It sure makes things more enjoyable. Well, there was that one time that he asked me if he could stalk me. But we've both decided to pretend he didn't know what the word meant. Either way, my grant year will probably be ending at a perfect time. #You'reBodyIsChanging #Uncomfortable #SeeYouIn10Years #What'sWrongWithShippingOffToBoardingSchoolForThePubescentPre-teenYears?

2. I woke up in a hot room, the air thick with the salty smell of yesterday's sweat. 

Well, that definitely wasn't how I'd hoped to spend my Tuesday night, I thought. I was surrounded on all sides by grumbling women and the white noise of late night TV. It was early Wednesday morning - 6:00am. I found myself at a jimjilbang (a Korean public bathhouse commonly used for cheap sleeping accommodation). As it so happened, this particular jimjilbang was in the city of Daejon. Which wasn't ideal, considering it's in neither the city nor province in which I live and work. And I have to be in my classroom, sporting my indoor slippers, and wearing a smile by 8:30am. This all begs the question of why I was there in the first place. The answer? A rookie mistake.

An American still uncomfortable with the idea that the hour on the clock could ever read higher than 12, I made the Tourism-for-Dummies mistake of misreading military time. It's certainly not the first time I've quickly read the time as 19:00 and processed it as 9:00pm. But I am almost sure it will be the last. I'd been spending the day in Jeonju, a city 4 hours south of Cheonan. By the time I realized I'd missed my train, all later seats were sold out. The buses too. Luckily, a nice elderly man took pity on me as I stood there contemplating what my next move should be. 

"But she needs to get to Cheonan tonight," he explained, his voice both urgent and gentle. The sleepy-eyed employee looking back at him through the ticketing window just pointed to the flashing SOLD OUT sign in a robotic way that suggested this probably wasn't her first time offering this information. A former bus driver for the company, he tried to pull strings. 

"I know some drivers who let extra riders stand in the aisle," he tried, which she replied to with an unenthused headshaking. Realizing we'd reached a dead end, he turned to me and walked me through Plan B, explaining how I should catch a bus to Daejon, a city an hour outside of Cheonan. The catch would be that by the time I got there, the terminal would boarded up and closed for the night, and I'd have to catch some shut eye in a nearby jimjilbang. 

I'd never before felt how much I've taken for granted the fact that I've always had a place to sleep. I found myself feeling primitive, faced with the disappointing reality that I wouldn't be able to slip into my own bed in my own house as I had been looking forward to all day. I felt the night settling in around me as I walked the streets looking for an affordable place to stay, finally settling on a $10 jimjilbang. 

At that point, I was still not willing to accept this unfortunate end to my night. And that sense of entitlement made me feel even crappier. I'd just started reading a book about the ethnic displacement brought about in Cambodia by the Khmer Rouge in the 70s. Families were ripped apart. Those forced into physical labor weren't given enough food on which to survive. With as much as a third of their whole country's population having been wiped out over the span of just 3 years, many stories ending in either starvation, heat stroke, malaria, or cold-blooded murder. It may seem ridiculous to draw such a comparison - the crimes against humanity committed in Cambodia and me being angry that I couldn't sleep in the comfort of my own bed. Well, it is ridiculous. Of course no one likes to have their schedule thrown off course. But as I laid down on my Korean style bed mat that night, I realized how lucky I was that I was in a country that had things like hotels or jimjilbangs. That I had the money to stay in one. That I had the resources to have traveled to visit my friends that day. That there were kind-hearted people in the world that looked out for one another, like the man at the bus station. Since that night, I've been appreciating my house and my bed as if I were Tom Hanks at the end of Castaway.

3. He just had to wait until this week to do it.

Yes, killing the family pet. It's gotta be on the Homestay Family No-Nos List, right behind (or before) breaking grandma's urn and shouting ethnic slurs at the dinner table. To be fair, I didn't kill him. He died on my watch. But the death count still reads the same. 

My host family went on vacation to China for the week, and my host mom gave me only 2 missions: 1) Eat all the strawberries and cake in the fridge [uhhh, done] and 2) Take care of the family hedgehog. 

How does one take care of a hedgehog, you may ask? Pretty simple, actually (keep in mind, this is coming from a person who couldn't actually take care of one). Fill up his water bottle and feed him his food once a day. That's it - idiot proof. (Again, not really in a place to make that claim.)  

My family left on Monday, having already filled Doji's water bottle and food bowl. I was to start Tuesday morning. But strangely enough, come Tuesday morning Doji hadn't eaten any of his food nor had he sipped a drop of water. Odd, I thought. But my host mom did say that he sometimes eats only once every other day. Not wanting to bother her on vacation regarding the only one serious responsibility I'd be assigned, I finally decided to send her a quick message to check in and ask how things were going, hoping to seamlessly work into the conversation the fact that Doji wasn't eating or drinking. She didn't answer because, of course, she was doing cool things in China. 

But when the sun rose on Wednesday morning, the same untouched water and food bits were staring back at me from his food bowl. Taunting me with a dilemma. I touched him to see if he...you know. And ufffff, thank god, he moved in response. Alright, I'll go to work, check on him when I get back home, and if nothing has changed, I'll call my host mom again or just take him straight to the vet. 

The clock ticked 4:30pm, and I ran home, as anxious as I was scared to know how the situation had progressed since that morning. I swung open the door. I gave him a gentle nudge with the handle of a dust pan, not wanting to touch him with my hands. Nothing. He wouldn't budge. At this point, I'm grossed out at the thought of being near a dead hedgehog and horrified that this might happen while I'm supposed to take care of him. I immediately called Rachel, my host mom, and ask her if I should take him to a veterinarian. She, of course, says yes. Fortunately, I knew where one was because my old route to school from my previous homestay passed right by one. One taxi ride later I found myself in the overwhelmingly white-walled veterinarian clinic, face to face with the receptionist. And she was shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, but we only service cats and dogs here," she said with a sympathetic smile.

"Well, unless you know the nearest hedgehog clinic, could you please just tell me if he's dead or alive?" I asked, trying to play up the helpless foreigner card. With an understanding nod, she reached into the clumsy big cage and picked him up, evaluating him in the palm of her hand.

"It seems as though he's passed away," she said as she quietly placed him neatly back in the scattered wood-chip floor of his cage. This is the Korean way of subtly and indirectly conveying undesirable information. 

Well, I was able to stumble along well enough in Korean to file for his burial paperwork and give the doctor Rachel's phone number so we could avoid the poorly translating American middle (wo)man. But the whole time, I could practically hear the soundtrack to my life...

Ps. This was a very me-centered perspective on the story. Let's all take a moment of silence for Doji. RIP, my spiky rat friend.

5. I feel like this'd be illegal in the U.S. 

But here, it's a social norm. No one even bat an eyelid. Although it'd be totally sketchy (and possibly lead to some kind of a lawsuit) for a 24 yr. old teacher to be hanging out with her male high school students outside of school, there I was. A Fulbright friend of mine invited me to spend the day with her and a few of her students. They wanted to give us a tour of their city, which allowed them to practice their English with native speakers. And as a cool byproduct, it provided a for a wonderful cultural exchange. It was an awesome idea, and I was so happy to have been invited. What made it all the more special was that I rarely get to spend time with high school students in Korea. 

As an elementary school teacher, I'm more of a parental figure for my students - our age difference is so great. Even when I do get to play outside with my students after school or around our apartment complex, they're not quite at the age where I can be super influential in just a few words. Our conversations tend to something like, "Look both ways before crossing the street" or "Please stop farting on your friends." 

To be sure, there are students for whom I've been a positive role model. And even a few that I've been able to support in the midst of relatively rough home lives. That's a story all in itself, but one I'm not ready to share, as I still have unresolved feelings about the Korean social services system and its (lack of) support for children living in harmful situations. But for the most part, the bonds I share with my students are formed on the understanding that they know I will always care and look out for them - and that I'm fun to play with. However, while spending the afternoon with the high schoolers, I felt like I slipped ever so seamlessly into the role of their mentor, their age bordering on that ever elusive decision of what they want to do with their lives.

When teaching high school in the U.S., I always hated that society discourages outside of school teacher-student interaction. During my student teaching at high school in Pennsylvania, there was only ever one way in which I ever managed to mentor and connect with a student outside of the classroom. As fate would have it, one of my students happened to work at the Panera that was my go-to spot  during my thesis writing time-crunch. I'd spend endless hours there. On her breaks, she would sit with me and talk about her life at State High. This helped me to gain a clearer sense of that undercurrent culture that's often invisible to a teacher's eye in the classroom. She would tell me about her plans to work hard and save up for a backpacking trip around Europe when she graduates. Having myself been in her shoes not so long ago, I was able to give her the kind of information and advice she needed to hear. I like to think I had a positive effect on her during our meetings. But even if she didn't get much more out of it than an open ear, it provided me with valuable insight into the lives of my students outside the Spanish classroom. 

My message is this: I understand that society discourages such outside of school interaction between teachers and students. A bad few have ruined it for the rest of us. And I'm sure this societal rule will help to safeguard our students from harmful situations. But I mourn the fact that the good-intentioned teachers are, as a result, limited in their abilities to mentor students in the way that I've seen work in other countries over the past few years. Being able to share extracurricular time with the students I've met in Korea beyond the walls of my classroom has been a privilege. I recognize that teachers will likely never get back this privilege in the U.S. And it's a shame.

6. Once I said it, I realized how weird it sounded. 

But it was out there now, so I just pushed through the awkwardness. I motioned to my camera repeatedly as I asked them,"Excuse me, ummm...can I take a picture?" Their natural response was, "You mean you want us to take your picture for you? "No," I explained, "I want to take a picture of...you..."

Their traditional clothes were just so beautiful. I had to ask. I like to think their confused faces in response to my request were nothing more than a bashful reaction to my flattery. #MemoryEngineering

7.  Excuse me, did you say gift?

"Oh, I just couldn't! It's too much - really. Oh my my, but isn't it darling. Yes, it does seem to match my complexion, doesn't it? Well if you insist..."

This is a story about how I came to be a traditional hanbok dress collector.

 

Male hanbok does exist, but it's not as pretty or interesting in my opinion. Of course you can google it if you're interested. Now how did I end up with two  hanbok dresses? While at a Traveling Dinner at my student's house, I comment on a picture of my student and her younger sister. In the photo, they are both dawning beautiful hanbok in a setting that looks to be a Chuseok celebration (Korea's autumn harvest holiday). Hanbok is so beautiful, I muttered as one does absent-mindedly. My student's mother quietly went to her room and emerged a few minutes later with an entire hanbok set. For me. She was giving me her hanbok. This wasn't something she planned. It just occurred to her to give me this expensive piece of beauty, art, and culture when I mentioned that I liked it. Quick - tell her you like the plasma screen TV. And that glazed ceramic tea set.

But really, I was shocked. I couldn't play that "No-I couldn't" polite-fake-refusal game for more than 15 seconds before I finally gave in and took the dress in my arms. 

Fast forward 2 weeks later. I'm in my new homestay house, unpacking my things when Rachel asks me where on Earth I got that hanbok. Hearing the story, she quietly went to her room, emerging a few short minutes later. Now she was giving me her hanbok! And not just any hanbok - her wedding hanbok. So now my wardrobe boasts not one, but two, beautiful traditional hanbok dresses.

The real tragedy here is that my host mother is too embarrassed to let me post her wedding photo here. It might not look like much in as it hangs in my messy closet in garish lighting, but her picture is the very essence of elegance and beauty. As an alternative, I could take a picture of me in it right now, but that would require a whole lot of work that I don't feel like committing to right now. I'd have to Youtube 'How to fix my hair for wearing Korean hanbok dress,'  and, probably the real reason I'm not doing it right now - it would mean I'd have to change out of my comfy pajamas, which I don't forsee happening tonight. But do expect an exclusive photo of me sporting the hanbok in an upcoming post.

8. This might end in a dislocated shoulder, I remember thinking.

They were fighting like dogs. It was Sports Day at my elementary school and they had called all the parents to the track, declaring a battle of tug of war. But these parents - who I believe were divided into teams by their children's respective grades - were fighting for status. It was as if all the competitive, passive aggressive comments that have been made so far into the year about how so-and-so's kid scored highest on this week's math test or was accepted to the competitive summer English camp - had come to a head. They were practically at 150 degrees, grappling the fiber rope with their gloved hands (they apparently came prepared) and tugging to the death. Of course that's totally my take on it as a 3rd party. It may have been a friendly game of tug of war. Maybe...

9. "I'll teach you how to hold your poop at night." 

This is the title of a children's book in my school's English library. It seems a little graphic - not to mention detrimental to my students' understanding of modern health and sanitation precautions. But, alas it tries to retell the oral traditions of generations past. So, by my own credence in the value of appreciating oral history, I should support it. But that doesn't mean that if I had edited this book, I wouldn't have suggested that the final page be moved to the front. That fine print is important. I certainly don't want my students thinking they should be holding their poop. Because I know in elementary school especially, that never ends well.

 

 "Okay, listen carefully. Take a deep breath and make your anus really tight. Then your poop will go right back inside." 

-- #SAID NO DOCTOR EVER.

"Maybe one more lump!"

--I don't want this to be my students' first exposure to the word 'lump.' There are so many other non-poopy uses.

 "Now if you don't want to have night poops anymore, you must bow to the chickens," Mom said.

 "That chicken must have bought the poop from you," Mom said with a big smile.

"Mom, does it mean I won't poop at night anymore?" Ghil Nam asked with a restless voice raised high in excitement.

"The custom of holding poop at night shows the humor and wisdom of old days' people about the toilet training for their children."

10. 단란주점: Well, define prostitution... Prostitution is illegal in South Korea. But that apparently doesn't mean it's illegal to openly advertise it on fliers that litter the street at night. Or to advertise it in the subtle ways that one only learns of from spending time in the country (i.e. a cartoon image of a a curvy woman incorporated into a karaoke bar sign, the placement of two swirling barbershop pillars right next to one another, or the words "massage" or "ear cleaning" printed across loud neon awnings).

 At hostess clubs men essentially pay for attention - whatever that means for that particular hostess bar. They have the pleasure of chatting with a woman of their choosing, who works for the bar. The entrance fee can be pretty hefty. Upon entrance, her goal is to get you to buy as many drinks for her and yourself as possible. She'll giggle as she pours your drinks for you, a close sign of affection in Korea. A hostess bar's customers are generally young, rich, married business men. 

Many office meetings take place here, as a way to encourage business relationships. Within this environment there is semi prostitution to varying degrees. For example, a business might consider purchasing make-out sessions for its potential new clients. This type of illegal lust is part of the dark side of Korea that no one likes to talk about. It’s kept hidden away from non-Koreans to portray the squeaky clean image that Korea hopes to project. My host father got visibly uncomfortable when my host mom explained this culture to me, explaining that it was showing the dark underbelly of their nation. Hostess bars, from what I can tell, are at the milder end of that spectrum. They offer the illusion of attraction and intimacy; the bar girls will flirt with you, laugh at your jokes, pour your drinks and light your cigarettes. But it is mostly illusion. Just the same, it’s not impossible to make arrangements to leave the bar with a girl. 

As you can see in the pictures both above and to the right, there are also host bars. These work exactly like hostess bars, but with the gender roles reversed. I'm certain we have these kind of joints in the U.S., but here in Korea it's a pervasive and well-known, albeit not-talked about, feature of the ever-linked connection between business and nightlife culture.

This information was compiled largely in part to the information provided from my host mom, as well as in conversation with some of my friends in Korea. But a significant portion has also been taken from waegukin.com.

11. The soybean husk is covering your eyes.

This is how Koreans will say, "Love is blind."

12. "But it's okay because they're supposed to hate us. It's tradition."

"For the first 10 years, she hated me. Then we [My husband and I] just gave up. Now if I were the wife of their first son, then well, I'd still be hated, but at the same time kind of put on a pedestal. Yes I'd be some sort of special, but much much more would be expected of me. Like, it's a lot more work. So, I guess being the wife of the middle child isn't such a bad thing. I'll never be the favorite. My kids will never be as special as the first son's kids are. But with that comes less responsibility. Which means less obligatory visits to the in-laws house. Less familial duties and crap to put up with. Well, not that much less because it always sucks. One time, my husband and I didn't return her call for the whole day. Well, his mother called in the morning, and we didn't get around to calling her back until the next morning. During the interim period, she convinced herself our silence must have meant that we had marital problems we were trying to hide. Problems that most certainly took root in something I had done wrong. Because her children are angels. And the daughter-in-law is always supposed to be the scapegoat. 

That day she called me to her house, led me into her bedroom, and forced me into tears as she critiqued my capabilities as a wife. Worst of all, my husband took her side. Mother always has to come first. Even when she's totally out of line. And I could never speak back to her. Tell her that she was crazy for concocting this make-believe marital problem. And for thinking she had a place to berate my failings as her son's wife. That's what being a daughter-in-law in Korea is. 

There's actually a Konglish word for it: 시월드 (Pronounced [She World], meaning In-law World). It means the world that a woman enters when she marries into the family. Similarly, it can refer to the world she must enter when visiting the in-laws. It's a scary, stressful place that few men are just superficially aware of. A family visit is always a time for observation and judgment, anxiety and showmanship. And the anti-in-law sentiment doesn't derive only from the parents-in-law. It often materializes in the way that brothers-and sisters in law treat you as well. 

Back before any of my husband's brothers had given birth to a boy, we were the only family to have a son. We received so much attention from his parents for this fact. The fact that we had had a boy. His brothers and their wives resented me for giving his parents a grandson. During one family visit, they actually made me alone use the dirty old, out-of-function bathroom while everyone else got to use the new, remodeled one. They bullied me. But now, my husband's eldest brother has a son, so they treat us like longtime best friends.  Yes, no woman enjoys going to She World." 

-A paraphrased excerpt of my host mom's view on the female experience with in-law family culture in Korea. I'd guess the Jennifer Lopez movie Monster-in-Law did pretty well in Korea.

13. "Yeah, maybe people don't say it, but I say it."

This was Seongjun's response when I told him that we don't call them "Jelly and peanut butter sandwiches." #TrendSetter #LanguageEvolution

14. What does D-Bag mean? 

A question my 5th grade student asked me in class. #FeignMissunderstanding #NeverHeardItInMyLife #ConsiderPullingTheFireAlarm #CanWeTalkAfterClass?

16. My love cell died. 

Saying your love cell died in Korean means that you've given up on love. You're no longer holding out for Mr. or Mrs. Right. 
(In Korean = 연애세포 죽었다)

17. And just like a young calf, sucking her mother's teet... 

Nope. I'm not just using an exaggerated shocking attention grabber here. This one ends exactly as it sounds. With not so much as a proper segue, my 5th grade student latched on to my breast with her teeth and pretended to suck for milk. This was in the middle of the hall in between classes. Despite my efforts to come up with some funny punch line or a lesson I learned from this weird encounter - I've got nothing.  Just the fact that it happened.

18. "Wow Emily! You look so...

...ugly!" What my host sister Eunbin told me when I came home with a bob from the hair salon. #NoSpeechFilter #ImmediatleyTakeSelfiesInGoodLightingToFeelBetter

19. When I grow up, I want to be a ballerina or a teacher. But if I can't be those, then president.

Says a 1st grade student at my school. This left me wondering whether I should be allowing myself a proud moment of young feminism or one of sincere worry that she might not know what a president is. #Conflicted

20. I didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't how CPR works.

Playing make-believe at home with my host siblings, my younger brother decides to change the game, transforming our drama-less prancing into an epic battle. Pretend to have stuck me with a sword, I following suit, falling to the ground. Eunbin, my little host sister, came quickly to my rescue offering CPR. Which she gave me by blowing in my ear. #SoCute


21. If you could speak any other language fluently, what would it be and why? 
This is the question I asked Seongjun, my 12 yr. old hold brother. His answer?

I would speak an alien language from a different universe because if (not when) we make communication with another species out there in outer space, I'll be the first to know how to communicate. Which will make me really important and powerful. And they'd probably let me be the first one to take a ride on their space ship to explore their world. #NowThat'sWhatICallThinkingOutOfTheBox


 22. What was it like to be in Korea as the country grappled simultaneously with its two biggest battles of the year?

In the words of CNN's Kathy Novak and Jung-eun Kim:
 "South Korea is grappling with two battles: the virus itself and the public fear over MERS. The nation has been struck by the largest outbreak of the Middle East Respiratory Syndrome outside Saudi Arabia, where the virus was discovered. And the number of cases grows every day. On Tuesday, South Korea reported that a ninth person had died from MERS and another 13 had contracted the virus, bringing the number of confirmed cases to 108. More than 2,800 people remain quarantined, either at home or in health facilities. More than 2,000 schools remain closed." 

So what was it like for me to be here amidst all of this?

The two question I asked myself every morning for the past month was "Outbreak or Scare? A real problem worth my worrying or an overblown media story?" After all, for many people, the MERS scare was nothing more than an opportunity to snap cute selfies of themselves in face masks. 

The majority of my fellow Fulbright friends took the later approach, drawing their conclusions from the reliable World Health Organization website. But me, on the other hand,  I was the one sending daily emails to our Fulbright program coordinator asking about our contingency plans for emergency departures should the situation continue to worsen. At one point, both of my host siblings had fevers and a cough, the virus's two most prominent symptoms. You can bet I was seconds away from buying one of these for the these for wear around the house.

The best part of this story is that, like thousands of other schools in Korea, my elementary school became increasingly worried for our students' safety. When the scare had reached its peak, my principal officially made the decision to close our doors for the week. Still not exactly just how the disease was being spread from person to person, she thought it best to cancel. But, us teachers were still required to come into school from 8:30am-4:30pm every day. To do...god knows what. The only explanation she offered to the faculty for her reasoning was that if she let us stay at home, the students' parents might get angry that teachers were allowed a vacation. The unstated implication here is that teachers are magically immune to the virus and cannot be infected with the virus by sharing public spaces with other people. 

This is one part of Korean culture I don't think I'll ever be able to assimilate to. In Korea, one is usually punished for questioning authority. That can mean questioning a principal's faulty logic concerning a decision she makes that affects your personal bodily health or asking your primary care physician why she didn't ask for a list of your current medications before prescribing you something new. As an American citizen, I've grown up in a place where questioning authority is an admirable behavior. Where pointing out a leader's failings and demanding their accountability is something of high value. Something as simple as correcting a professor's typo in a handout would be extremely disrespectful in Korea. Because it throws the social hierarchy all out of wack. The student is the learner and the teacher, the expert. Therefore, students cannot correct their teachers. While this may cause some embarrassment for teachers in the U.S., such a catch is generally appreciated by a teacher, as this facilitates learning and proves that the students are paying close attention. 

I always considered the workplace to be a democracy. In my lifetime, things like labor unions and worker's rights have always been around. And I see now that I took for granted in the United States. In Korea, no teacher would think to speak back to the principal, to question her decision. 

They're worried about MERS, but there's no soap in the bathroom. Whatever, it's not my place to make policy suggestions. 
There's no designated time for mandatory hand washing in between classes? Not my place. Maybe we should be teaching children to sneeze and cough into their elbows as opposed to the hands. But I'd never say these things aloud. 

As my host mom (who is also a teacher) explained it to me, one's reputation - whether an accurate portrayl or senseless gossip - is far more important in Korea than one's ability to do their job well. Of course one's heard-it-through-the-grapevine reputation can be a factor in the professional world of any culture. But it especially so for the job market in Korea. Despite not being an actual part of anyone's portfolio. 

Anyhow, my point is this. Because of 평판(Pyeong-pan), not a single teacher at my school questioned my principal's weird decision, which they all agreed (in the safety of dark corners and hushed tones) that it was weird. And this fearful respect of unworthy authority astonished me.

23. My host parents. The horrible hiccup in their honeymoon...
When a couple gets married in Korea, it's common practice for guests to present the newlyweds with gift baskets of fruits and nuts. The chestnut continues to be among Koreans' favorite nuts. Accordingly, chestnuts represent a high percentage of wedding gifts. The funny part of the story? (Keep in mind that my host father doesn't speak much English). When my host parents were en route to their honeymoon to Australia, the guard at the airport security checkpoint asked in English, "Sir, are you carrying a 'bam?' In Korean, the word for chestnut is 밤, pronounced 'bam.' Realizing his bag had not yet gone through the scanner, my host father looked back at the guard with a furrowed brow. How, he wondered, could this guard possibly know he had chestnuts in his carry-on? And how did this American know the word for chestnut in Korean? Confused and uncomfortable, my host father pushed on with a nervous smile and mustered a pseudo-confident "Yes." As it turns out, the guard wasn't of course asking if he had chestnuts. The American employee didn't know the Korean word for chestnut. What he was asking, however, was wether or not my host father had a bomb.  Needless to say, he got a few extra pat-downs.
______________________________________________________

2. Summer in Korea: Photo Gallery

Everland Amusement Park near Seoul

Cute things from Yongso

My student, Jaewon, in his cub scout uniform

"This letter is become to my heart." She not only wrote me a letter, but set it up in an envelope as if it were actually going through the mail system. So sweet, Yoon-ji!

Sports Day

Sports Day reminded me that I've got an Action Shot function on my camera. Now we've got the play-by-play documented by the seconds. 

My 6th graders from last year came by to visit and partake in the festivities. And what a treat it was to hang out with them again, these two guys who are practically attached at the hip. 

On point

My boys getting the nervous jitters as the their team loses the lead in the final minutes

Check out these guys. By far, Sport's Day's toughest critics.

Ji-Won (the girl with the purple jacket and backwards baseball cap) is pumping up to her students to beat the other 6th grade team.

Konglish Feature of the Week

Mokpo, a beautiful small town port city

We happened upon Erin's (a friend fellow Fulbright teacher in Korea) students playing soccer outside, ridding themselves of the stress of the midterms. Without skipping a beat, we jumped right in. 

Wedaldo Island (외달도)

This is a tiny tiny island an hour off of the southwestern mainland. Including me my friends, Teri and Erin, I would estimate there were less than 35 people on the island. The houses were colorful and sizable compared to the copy-and-paste high rise apartments I'm used to seeing stacked across the rest of Korea. The houses were noticeably few, and it seems that only the elderly generation has stayed behind to live on the island, while the children and grandchildren have moved to the mainland for working, studying, and living on the mainland to work, study, or live. This, of course, is all in off-season. During summer vacation, this place apparently gets something of a tourism rush. I would really like to see it during peak season because it's hard to picture it buzzing with visitors. While I usually like a nice comforting crowd, I really liked 외달도 for that special buzzless quality.

Teri showering river water-bucket style.

This early morning mist had me wondering me if we hadn't stumbled into Brigadoon. Bringin' me back to those high school musical days. ㅋㅋ

Jeonju (전주)
An historically valuable city in Korea, prized for its creation of the Korean Bibimpap dish and its traditional architecture.

This is the tour I talked about earlier in this post. These were our high school volunteer city tour guides. 

Standing at the old city walls, still standing.

This moment catches the exciting crossroads that is felt here, at Jeonju's traditional hanok village town center. You've got original architecture, tangible artifacts of days past, dominating the space with a proud, not-at-all touristy, presence. Then the man riding a bike and a car trying navigate through the crowded walking streets, seeming intrusive yet a little out of place. Jeonju has been officially deemed a Slow City. Don't know what a Slow City is? Google it. ;)

History Museum
The group of officials that, while in exile in China, established the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea during the Japanese Invasion.  Behind me clothed in white is Korea's first president, 이승만 (Syngman Rhee). I didn't know this until recently, but his wife was a foreigner. As you might be able to 

gather from her name, Franziska Donner, she was Austrian.

Eunbin's Jumping Birthday party 
(8 years old!)

My first and last time participating in a Karaoke session with 1st graders. ^.^

Visiting Gwangyang (광양) & Sunchen (순천)

Gwanygyang(광양) is located where you can see the red writing on the map. Suncheon (순천) is a short 20 min drive from Gwanygyang(광양). One of my good Fulbright friends, Hillary, lives in Gwangyang. She invited me to attend a festival her school was participating in. There was dancing, singing, rapping, beatboxing, and traditional Korean artistic performances.

While Gwanygyang is a rather small town that many Koreans don't have a reason to visit unless they have family there, Suncheon is a wildly popular destination. Visitors flock the Suncheon to visit the eco-friendly bay and international flower garden park. 

This was a definite highlight in one of the greenhouse exhibits. The title reading "Coconut from the Garden of Eden," this particular type of coconut has apparently been dubbed the world's sexiest. Of all the coconuts. As explained by the plaque, it is a "nut with the unique shape of a woman's buttocks." 

The Japanese Gardens

If you overlook my stalkeriness of my picture taking, you can appreciate what a charming afternoon this seemed to be for this older couple. I took this picture because I felt like it really embodies that idealistic fantasy of growing old together.

The English gardens

So happy to see Ecuador represented!

The Dutch gardens

The Green Tea Plantation in Boseong (보성)

This is by far one of my favorite trips I've ever taken in Korea. Definitely a must-do if you are planning a trip here.

One of my favorite gifs of the year ^^

Here they are again!

Some of my favorite Korean Bathroom Signs

If you're ever in Kwangju, you've gotta check out this bar. I'll find it's name and post it later.

Kicking back in Busan with fellow Fulbrighters

Stepping into the baseball stadium was totally weird. It felt like I'd somehow made it to Pittsburgh's PNC park in a matter of seconds. There's nothing like the feeling of a good, old-fashioned baseball game to put a little 'Merica into the moment.

Erin & Emmy. This picture captures their personalities to a T. #AllSmiles

What a treat to have so many awesome people in the same place. These future PhDs, lawyers, doctors, teachers, and entrepreneurs will no doubt go on to make their marks on the world. But they're also just totally funny. Leaving this Fulbright Korea community this time next month will take some adjustment for sure. But I'm really lucky to have met each and every one of these wonderful people. 

Matt makes a new friend at the baseball game. The Korean Godfather?

Seoul architechture: Taking a peak at the backwood neighborhoods of Hongdae

Finally made it to Seoraksan National Park! (설악산)

This rock is naturally occurring. It's lodged just so that when pushed, it will wobble but never fall. Cool from an engineering perspective. Unfortunately the person who took the video for us turned it sideways so it just looks awkward. 

An unexpected gem: 속초

Sokcho (속초) is the small town that sits right outside of the National Park. It was meant to be nothing more than a place to put drop off our bags and catch some sleep after our Seoraksan mountain adventures. But we quickly learned that this Sokcho was not to be overlooked. It's got a beach, but that that wasn't even the best part. Our hostel set us up with free bikes and, at the owner's urging, we went on a bike ride around the nearby lake. I'm so glad we gave in to his advice.

See Psy perform Gangnam Style live. Check!

Psy was doing a free college concerts tour. Lucky for my neighber Da Sol (pictured above stuffing her face with her first ever quesadilla) and I, Cheonan was one of his stops. Not only was it cool to be just a few feet from this legend of a star who put Korea on the map for many countries - it was just fun to be on a college campus again. The quad pulsed with the anticipation of an (un)forgettable Friday night.

Psy, almost 40 yrs. old, is certainly no spring chicken. And we were his 3rd concert of the NIGHT. He had to be exhausted.After about an hour, he announced the next song would be his last. In response, the pumped up crowd of grinning, drunk college students started to chant. "자고가 자고가," they repeated in perfect synchronization, as if it had been planned. In not so many words, they were telling him, "This old man wants his bed." Well, it worked. He impressively mustered up some energy and on he went for another half an hour. 

\

My neighbor, Da-Sol, playing the Gayageum.

The Gayageum is a traditional Korean instrument.

My host siblings at their absolute best

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3. Photobombers Anonymous

I really just wanted the flower.

We really just wanted a picture of us two, but alright... 

I thought all I wanted was a photo of the stadium. But fate knew me better than I know myself, because this turned out to be way better.

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4. Korean phrase of the day:

Hek-no-dap 

- lit. Nuclear bomb-no response. Used when some circumstance is so shocking, unbelievable, or ridiculous that it's out of your hands and rendered unfixable. It's equvalent to "WTF. Well, there's nothing we can do about it now." Defined in Korean as 답이 핵폭탄급으로 없음. 또는 그런 상황.

Some examples of situations that call for a Hek-no-dap comment, pulled from the official Hek-no-dap Facebook Group.

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5. Special Links

• The Dance Video of the Week (This is in dedication to the Supreme Court's landmark ruling late last weekend. I can't stop smiling as I type this on my keyboard. Same-sex marriage is officially legal across the entire United States of America! The road ahead is looking brighter than ever for our country. #EqualRights #NationalPride #LoveWins) 
• A Close Second
• Throwback SURPRISE