Something weird has been happening over the last few weeks. Something I never expected. Something that is quite a departure, for me, from what has gone before.
Since I came back from my fantastic holiday with my amazing family (well, 2/3rds of them) in Australia, things have changed. I turned the corner into my second year in Korea, and little by little, I am feeling differently about this place. Its people, its landscapes, even its popular culture. I spent my first year vacillating between complete indifference and active dislike of many aspects of life here. None of it was awful, but I just didn't love the country. I am not a pop music fan, so the Kpop phenomenon didn't interest me in the least. Being spoilt by South African landscapes, fauna and flora and our vast views, I was unfazed by the best that Korea has to offer. The beaches are meh. The mountains are so-so. The countryside is marked by poor-looking,dusty little towns and industry. The people, especially the men, were not attractive
to me. There seemed to be only two types: trendy prettyboys with stupid hairstyles who wear nothing but skinny jeans, or bland working types with weather-beaten faces and no style to speak of. (Keep in mind that I live in a small city smack-bang in the middle of the country.)
Then, something happened. First, I developed an inexplicable crush on the type of guy I would NEVER have looked at twice in South Africa. Probably because there are so many of them there. Probably as a response to all the skinny jeans-wearing young boys around me. He is buff, he is not particularly attractive, he has testosterone oozing off him in waves. It's a little intimidating. He also speaks about three and a half words of English. And that only after three and a half bottles of Soju. It's disconcerting.
Second, one of my grade 1 students played me a song called Crayon, by one of Kpop's biggest stars, GDragon. Well, that was the beginning of the end of my reputation in music circles back home. I. Am. In. Love. I listen to this song on an almost daily basis. I am picking up some unsavoury language from this sexy little Kpop god. He is too pretty to be a boy. He looks about 5 feet tall. He has peroxide-blond hair. He has misspelt English tattoos - my favourite is 'Wreckless' in a big cursive script down his side. He is my new celebrity crush. I don't understand it. And I don't care.
I am finding that learning the language is becoming easier. No doubt because I now have ulterior motives. But I am learning something new almost every day, without making much of an effort. My reading is getting faster, even though it is still with very little understanding. I can transcribe from romanized English and by ear. I am retaining words and grammatical rules better.
A little bit.
I went to Seoul this last weekend and did a tour of the DMZ. Very interesting, but a story for another post. There are beautiful men in Seoul. Foreigners? What? There are foreigners? I mean the 서우ㄹ남자 - Seoul men. They have style, they are gorgeous, they speak English, they have foreign girlfriends. I found myself staring a bit. I have started telling my Korean friends that I want a Korean bf.
It's all very new and strange. But, seeing as how I will spend at least another year here, and likely 18 months, I think it's overall a positive development. I still miss home. I still think that South Africa is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and that Cape Town, in particular, has some of the most beautiful people. Our music touches my soul like no other. I miss hearing Xhosa, Zulu, and Capie English & Afrikaans. I can't wait to go home in January and have breathless, joyful catch-ups with friends that will never be long enough, but will somehow be enough nonetheless.
But I am happy to be happier here. I am looking forward to the next year. I love my students and enjoy watching them grow in all the exciting ways that teenagers do. I am making real friendships with Korean people, that I hope will last a lifetime.
I get them a little more, and they get me.
Sometimes.
As long as I don't try to be ironic. Or sarcastic. Or use innuendo. Or try to make jokes in my fledgling Korean.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
When We Pretend That We're Dead
I am now a bona fide, card-carrying member of the gym in my village. It all started in Winter when I was walking home from the post office and saw trees all lit up by fairy-lights outside a building with a big neon sign. I walked past it to take a picture, and noticed that there were people working out on the first floor. Now, to back-track just a little, I had been looking for a place to do yoga, and preferably muay thai too, since I arrived here. I also wanted to swim, but as it got colder I realised that would have to wait a few months. Which was just as well, because swimming pools are a commodity around here. I had asked around, and had been to see a gym in Gumi (an h bus ride from here, at peak traffic time after work), but it was a bit grotty and I didn't feel good about it. A friend also pointed out that I may start with good intentions, but especially in Winter when it is -11 degrees C, I will soon stop missioning for an h there and back just to go to yoga class. My teachers had told me about the spa here in Buksam, but I was not yet ready to expose myself in front of scores of Korean women and do the communal baths thing.
So, flash forward to the cold Wintery night and my realisation that this 'spa' was, in fact, a gym-type place. I walked in and was amazed: it looked like the lobby of a very nice hotel in there. Cute litte water features, lounge off to the right with big sofas and flat screens, the whole deal. I managed to communicate enough with the staff at reception to indicate that I am interested in attending, and was given a breakdown of prices and the yoga schedule. I had a good look around and the gym is not very big, but well equipped, the yoga studio is large and suitably dimly lit and the spa is top-class, 5 star stuff. Several warm pools, showers, three different saunas & steam rooms, jet-baths,and a long cold pool set under cave-like wall features, complete with trailing ivy and a waterfall from the ceiling.
Needless to say, I got over my problem with being naked in front of a roomful of Korean women ("It's natural! People in all cultures have been doing this for centuries! I am so different from them that they probably just think of me as a lost cause anyway. They are probably staring at my tattoos."). Now, I feel that this is as good a time as any to state emphatically that yoga in the East is NOT like yoga back home. This shit is BRUTAL. I have been made to contort my body into positions that I would not have believed possible, and there are some that I still can't do without assistance from my long-suffering yoga instructor. I am convinced that she has taken me on as her personal project. Maybe she thinks that having someone so out of shape in her class reflects badly on her as a professional. Or maybe she just likes a challenge. Whatever her motivation, I soon realised that she seems to be planning her classes around my, ahem, problem areas. We do a LOT of back stretching and abdomen exercising. It is in fact somewhere between yoga, Pilates-type core training and some kind of bootcamp. I am not as ridiculously bendy as she is. I cannot stick my legs out to either side in a split and then lie down flat on my stomach. My butt is bigger than all your butts put together. But, still we persevere. I am now, a couple of months in, no longer absolutely shattered after a class. On Tuesday night I even did a couple of lengths in the cave pool after yoga and a shower and sauna. This morning I got up early and went for a half an h swim in said cave pool before work. I will do the same tonight after yoga. And hopefully tomorrow morning again.
But I will admit that my favourite part of every yoga class is still at the very end, when our teacher puts on soft music, dims the lights and we assume the Dead Man's Pose. Ahhhhh, I made it. Another one down. A luta continua.
<3 <3 <3
So, flash forward to the cold Wintery night and my realisation that this 'spa' was, in fact, a gym-type place. I walked in and was amazed: it looked like the lobby of a very nice hotel in there. Cute litte water features, lounge off to the right with big sofas and flat screens, the whole deal. I managed to communicate enough with the staff at reception to indicate that I am interested in attending, and was given a breakdown of prices and the yoga schedule. I had a good look around and the gym is not very big, but well equipped, the yoga studio is large and suitably dimly lit and the spa is top-class, 5 star stuff. Several warm pools, showers, three different saunas & steam rooms, jet-baths,and a long cold pool set under cave-like wall features, complete with trailing ivy and a waterfall from the ceiling.
Needless to say, I got over my problem with being naked in front of a roomful of Korean women ("It's natural! People in all cultures have been doing this for centuries! I am so different from them that they probably just think of me as a lost cause anyway. They are probably staring at my tattoos."). Now, I feel that this is as good a time as any to state emphatically that yoga in the East is NOT like yoga back home. This shit is BRUTAL. I have been made to contort my body into positions that I would not have believed possible, and there are some that I still can't do without assistance from my long-suffering yoga instructor. I am convinced that she has taken me on as her personal project. Maybe she thinks that having someone so out of shape in her class reflects badly on her as a professional. Or maybe she just likes a challenge. Whatever her motivation, I soon realised that she seems to be planning her classes around my, ahem, problem areas. We do a LOT of back stretching and abdomen exercising. It is in fact somewhere between yoga, Pilates-type core training and some kind of bootcamp. I am not as ridiculously bendy as she is. I cannot stick my legs out to either side in a split and then lie down flat on my stomach. My butt is bigger than all your butts put together. But, still we persevere. I am now, a couple of months in, no longer absolutely shattered after a class. On Tuesday night I even did a couple of lengths in the cave pool after yoga and a shower and sauna. This morning I got up early and went for a half an h swim in said cave pool before work. I will do the same tonight after yoga. And hopefully tomorrow morning again.
But I will admit that my favourite part of every yoga class is still at the very end, when our teacher puts on soft music, dims the lights and we assume the Dead Man's Pose. Ahhhhh, I made it. Another one down. A luta continua.
<3 <3 <3
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
In which I now have a Best Friend
A little over a month ago I finally made up my mind to foster a dog from a shelter here in Korea. Domestic animals, or at least what we regard in the West as companion animals, have a pretty rough time of it over here - generally speaking. Most of the dogs one sees over here, especially out here in the countryside where I live, either live in small cages (sometimes on a really big, fenced-in property) or are permanently chained up. Cats too. This has been doing my head in since I arrived here. After a conversation with a friend of mine who had recently taken in a foster dog I started to think seriously about the possibility of fostering a dog in my apartment. In sunny, spacious South Africa the idea of keeping a dog in an apartment is almost unheard of. Most dogs have a bit of space to move around in, and many dogs run wild and free - admittedly, many of these are strays who are breeding and dying as roadkill prolifically, but the point being that out there on the Wild Frontier, we generally believe that dogs should run around.
Anyway, I thought about this long and hard. How would it impact my life, and my tendency to travel around the country over weekends, sometimes at fairly short notice? What are the costs involved? What is this dreaded heartworm disease that so many shelter dogs here suffer from? What sort of dog would be best for me?
I initially wanted to foster a Jindo (https://www.google.com/search?q=jindo&hl=en&client=gmail&rls=gm&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=19WDT8qQD7CciAeliJmsBw&ved=0CDgQsAQ&biw=792&bih=427), but they are hunting dogs and bred here for the harsh winters, which means two things: they need LOTS of exercise, and they shed a shit ton of hair all over the place. Also, they can get pretty big, and can be aggressive towards smaller dogs and children. One of the dangers of fostering, of course, is that you never know what the dog's quirks and temperament is like, as you have no idea of their history, except that at some point someone changed their minds about having a dog and dropped them off at or near a shelter.
In Korea this can be due to many different reasons. People get dogs, and then get rid of them when they find something better, like a boyfriend/girlfriend, or get married, or have children. Because, ofcourse, dogs and children are such a bad combination. Also, there is apparently a widespread belief that all dogs change into wolves when they turn 7. I don't know how true this is, but it is a fact that many dogs of that age end up in shelters.
So, I made arrangements and met up with a group going to a shelter about 1 1/2hrs from the place where I live. I had looked at a couple of dogs' profiles on the website, and although a specific little guy had caught my eye in particular, I was willing to keep an open mind. We arrived there and were greeted by the sound of about 50 dogs of all sizes yapping away merrily with excitement at seeing so many strangers. We walked a couple of the bigger dogs, and my guide/facilitator explained to the owner of the shelter that I wanted to foster while I became acquainted with the dogs. The little guy I wanted was a puppy from a litter of 3 that turned out to be wholly disinterested in humans whatsoever. I could never even get near him, and he was also quite a bit bigger than what I had in mind. I knew by then that I wanted a really small dog that I could easily carry around with me in a dog carrier and thus lug with on trains, buses and into coffee shops - not a lot like life out on the open plains, but better than spending a life on a cement floor in a shelter run by one elderly woman looking after 50+ dogs. Well, to cut a long story slightly shorter, Osoohni caught my eye. Very small, black and white, fluffy and with big, soulful, trusting brown eyes. She seemed to have made up her mind right away that I was to be her saviour. She was also the only dog there who never made a sound. She didn't bark, she didn't cry, she just looked at me with those big eyes and when she thought it was a lost cause, went back to her little cage to lie on her blanket, face turned to the wall. Well, I didn't seem to have much say in the matter, so like a good dog I went and bought a very expensive carrier and all the necessary bits and undertook the journey home on the train, after a teary goodbye by Mrs Jung and many urgent admonitions by Mrs Jung about making sure to put a collar and name tag on her right away.
Soohni settled in beautifully and has turned out to be the sweetest, most low-maintenance and good-natured dog ever. She still has never barked or yelped. When she gets uber-excited she sometimes makes a little snorting sound. Her favourite things are going for walks, chewing on her toys and snacks and lying on her back on my lap so that she can stare up at my face. For hours on end. Tummy rubs are also a big favourite, but she doesn't like being brushed and just barely puts up with baths.
And so the thoughts began. Can I bear to give her away? Even to friends whom I trust to look after her and love her forever? A mere four weeks after she moved in with me, I am almost 100% certain that I can't. Or rather, that I don't want to. I did some research today into how difficult it is to relocate with a dog, even if I decide to go to another country first before I go home, and it is not terribly inconvenient. Many airlines, in fact, will allow you to keep a small dog or cat (or rodent, or bird) in the cabin with you, if they are in a secure and approved carrier that is small enough. The quarantine period for going back to SA is only 14 days, and to some countries there is none at all if the animal is healthy.
So, it looks like I may have found my own dog again, for the first time in just over ten years. And of course, I had to go and do that in the Far Out East. Figures.
Anyway, I thought about this long and hard. How would it impact my life, and my tendency to travel around the country over weekends, sometimes at fairly short notice? What are the costs involved? What is this dreaded heartworm disease that so many shelter dogs here suffer from? What sort of dog would be best for me?
I initially wanted to foster a Jindo (https://www.google.com/search?q=jindo&hl=en&client=gmail&rls=gm&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=19WDT8qQD7CciAeliJmsBw&ved=0CDgQsAQ&biw=792&bih=427), but they are hunting dogs and bred here for the harsh winters, which means two things: they need LOTS of exercise, and they shed a shit ton of hair all over the place. Also, they can get pretty big, and can be aggressive towards smaller dogs and children. One of the dangers of fostering, of course, is that you never know what the dog's quirks and temperament is like, as you have no idea of their history, except that at some point someone changed their minds about having a dog and dropped them off at or near a shelter.
In Korea this can be due to many different reasons. People get dogs, and then get rid of them when they find something better, like a boyfriend/girlfriend, or get married, or have children. Because, ofcourse, dogs and children are such a bad combination. Also, there is apparently a widespread belief that all dogs change into wolves when they turn 7. I don't know how true this is, but it is a fact that many dogs of that age end up in shelters.
So, I made arrangements and met up with a group going to a shelter about 1 1/2hrs from the place where I live. I had looked at a couple of dogs' profiles on the website, and although a specific little guy had caught my eye in particular, I was willing to keep an open mind. We arrived there and were greeted by the sound of about 50 dogs of all sizes yapping away merrily with excitement at seeing so many strangers. We walked a couple of the bigger dogs, and my guide/facilitator explained to the owner of the shelter that I wanted to foster while I became acquainted with the dogs. The little guy I wanted was a puppy from a litter of 3 that turned out to be wholly disinterested in humans whatsoever. I could never even get near him, and he was also quite a bit bigger than what I had in mind. I knew by then that I wanted a really small dog that I could easily carry around with me in a dog carrier and thus lug with on trains, buses and into coffee shops - not a lot like life out on the open plains, but better than spending a life on a cement floor in a shelter run by one elderly woman looking after 50+ dogs. Well, to cut a long story slightly shorter, Osoohni caught my eye. Very small, black and white, fluffy and with big, soulful, trusting brown eyes. She seemed to have made up her mind right away that I was to be her saviour. She was also the only dog there who never made a sound. She didn't bark, she didn't cry, she just looked at me with those big eyes and when she thought it was a lost cause, went back to her little cage to lie on her blanket, face turned to the wall. Well, I didn't seem to have much say in the matter, so like a good dog I went and bought a very expensive carrier and all the necessary bits and undertook the journey home on the train, after a teary goodbye by Mrs Jung and many urgent admonitions by Mrs Jung about making sure to put a collar and name tag on her right away.
Soohni settled in beautifully and has turned out to be the sweetest, most low-maintenance and good-natured dog ever. She still has never barked or yelped. When she gets uber-excited she sometimes makes a little snorting sound. Her favourite things are going for walks, chewing on her toys and snacks and lying on her back on my lap so that she can stare up at my face. For hours on end. Tummy rubs are also a big favourite, but she doesn't like being brushed and just barely puts up with baths.
And so the thoughts began. Can I bear to give her away? Even to friends whom I trust to look after her and love her forever? A mere four weeks after she moved in with me, I am almost 100% certain that I can't. Or rather, that I don't want to. I did some research today into how difficult it is to relocate with a dog, even if I decide to go to another country first before I go home, and it is not terribly inconvenient. Many airlines, in fact, will allow you to keep a small dog or cat (or rodent, or bird) in the cabin with you, if they are in a secure and approved carrier that is small enough. The quarantine period for going back to SA is only 14 days, and to some countries there is none at all if the animal is healthy.
So, it looks like I may have found my own dog again, for the first time in just over ten years. And of course, I had to go and do that in the Far Out East. Figures.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Yay MEEEE!!!!!
It's my birthday! Or as Annie K put it so beautifully, my continuation day. :) I have always loved birthdays, and I think it is really important to take a day (well, at least the one!) to celebrate yourself, all that you are, hope to be and have been. I know many people who do not celebrate their birthdays, who don't make a fuss and think of it as just another day, but I wholeheartedly disagree! Birthdays are fantastic! It reminds us to celebrate life - both ours and those of others who love and celebrate us.
There is so much to be grateful for in our lives - and the challenge lies therein to find something to be grateful for every day, especially on those days when it seems that everything is going wrong for us. I try to remember to think of at least three things to be grateful for every night before I go to sleep. Sometimes it's hard! But then I go back to basics - health, family, friends, food, a warm and comfortable home. And soon I realise - even on my darkest, brattiest, Debra Morgan-vocabulary-est days - that my life is blessed beyond measure. That I already have everything that I need. That I already AM everything I need to be. And that things can only get better.
Bless yourself today, and take a moment to thank yourself for everything that you are, and everything that you have manifested in your life. I can guarantee that the sun will shine just a little brighter.
Happy my birthday, everybody! Sending love to fill every space in this great and infinite universe of ours!
<3 <3 <3
There is so much to be grateful for in our lives - and the challenge lies therein to find something to be grateful for every day, especially on those days when it seems that everything is going wrong for us. I try to remember to think of at least three things to be grateful for every night before I go to sleep. Sometimes it's hard! But then I go back to basics - health, family, friends, food, a warm and comfortable home. And soon I realise - even on my darkest, brattiest, Debra Morgan-vocabulary-est days - that my life is blessed beyond measure. That I already have everything that I need. That I already AM everything I need to be. And that things can only get better.
Bless yourself today, and take a moment to thank yourself for everything that you are, and everything that you have manifested in your life. I can guarantee that the sun will shine just a little brighter.
Happy my birthday, everybody! Sending love to fill every space in this great and infinite universe of ours!
<3 <3 <3
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Miss Daisy's Feeling for Snow
I experienced my first snowfall on the afternoon of 1 Jan. It was
absolutely magical! Although my Canadian lunch date would - and did! -
disagree. It started as I was nursing a NYE hangover and a nice warm
cup of coffee, back in Gumi after having spent NYE in Daegu with Che,
Ana and the crew over there. I woke up at 10am, alone, in Che's flat - a
little confused and with no recollection of how I got there.
Apparently I did nothing untoward and danced and chatted the whole
night. But, alas, those midnight free shots from the bar stole my
memory - lethal combination of my kryptonite, tequila, and rocket fuel.
But back to the snow. As David and I left the coffee shop it really started to come down and I was as excited as a kid at Christmas - I had actual REAL snowflakes on me! I could see them individually! They are tiny, but visible to the naked eye, which somehow surprised me. David took a pic of me standing in the snow, in the middle of the road in down town Gumi. Then I got on my bus and wished that it would hold up until I got home. Well, what I got was a veritable blizzard! It was really coming down and I was very excited to see the sidewalks slowly turn white. When my bus got to the village of Chilgok-gun I got off and walked very slowly to my apartment so that I could be as covered as possible for a picture. Magnificent!
I took a couple of pictures that first day, but more spectacular was two days later, on Wed the 3rd, when it started snowing again in earnest in the evening. I took loads more of the village the next day, everything covered in at least 10cm of snow and looking beautiful and fresh. Of course, I have also learnt a number of things about snow first hand: it's slippery as hell! It only looks as beautiful the first day or two. When it is cold enough the dirty, half-melted sludgey stuff can hang around there for weeks!
But, none of this has dampened my spirits! I went snowboarding last weekend, but that deserves it's one post, so I will add some pics to this one and call it a night.
<3 <3 <3
But back to the snow. As David and I left the coffee shop it really started to come down and I was as excited as a kid at Christmas - I had actual REAL snowflakes on me! I could see them individually! They are tiny, but visible to the naked eye, which somehow surprised me. David took a pic of me standing in the snow, in the middle of the road in down town Gumi. Then I got on my bus and wished that it would hold up until I got home. Well, what I got was a veritable blizzard! It was really coming down and I was very excited to see the sidewalks slowly turn white. When my bus got to the village of Chilgok-gun I got off and walked very slowly to my apartment so that I could be as covered as possible for a picture. Magnificent!
I took a couple of pictures that first day, but more spectacular was two days later, on Wed the 3rd, when it started snowing again in earnest in the evening. I took loads more of the village the next day, everything covered in at least 10cm of snow and looking beautiful and fresh. Of course, I have also learnt a number of things about snow first hand: it's slippery as hell! It only looks as beautiful the first day or two. When it is cold enough the dirty, half-melted sludgey stuff can hang around there for weeks!
But, none of this has dampened my spirits! I went snowboarding last weekend, but that deserves it's one post, so I will add some pics to this one and call it a night.
<3 <3 <3
 |
| First snowfall! |
 |
| The orchards on my way to school |
 |
| Rice fields in front of Inpyeong Middle School |
 |
| School sports field and the railway bridge |
 |
| My street |
 | |
| Beautiful snowy whiteness! |
 |
| The village just got interesting |
 |
| Kimchi storage pots in my favourite garden in the village |
 |
| Inpyeong Middle School |
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