Doctor fish and garbage soup

Ah! It's almost December! I can't believe how quickly time is flying. I hear it snowed in Michigan already -- no such luck over here, but it's almost time... It's been pretty consistently cold, though; it usually hovers around the low 40s and high 30s, but occasionally has dipped below freezing.

With snow in the not too distant future, I've been busy checking things off my pre-hibernation to do list. One thing I've been interested in since hearing about it in 2009 was a "doctor fish pedicure." The so-called doctor fish is a type of Middle Eastern fish that sloughs off and eats dead skin (insert violence/flesh-eating/Middle East joke here). The fish got its nickname because it was first used to treat people with psoriasis. Circle of life, indeed.

Now, there are cafes and spas throughout Asia where customers can pay to put their feet into pools of doctor fish and contemplate why the practice is illegal in the U.S. while being feasted upon. This weekend, my friend and I visited one such cafe in Gangnam (yes, the place from the song).

We each bought a drink, helped ourselves to some free bread(!), and paid the $2 fee for doctor fish. There were two small pools up on a raised platform, and luckily we read about the protocol online: we had to wait for an employee to come rinse off our feet, then we could put our feet in for around 15 minutes.

One pool was semi-filled with tiny, non-intimidating fish. This wasn't going to be as hard as I thought... As a very ticklish person, I was totally comfortable with the size and scary factor of those fish. After the briefest hesitation, we put our feet in and and it was dinner time! If you didn't look at it happening, it felt almost like the tingling that you feel when your foot falls asleep; it wasn't painful or tickling. If you looked at it, however, it felt like weird fish were crawling on your feet and eating your skin. So, I tried not to look at it.

My friend had done this before in Thailand, so she decided we should step up our game and try the second pool. There were twice as many fish and they were three times as big. And as we walked along the edge of the pool, the fish followed our movement. It was not heart-warming. 

All I could manage was putting my heel in. The resulting frenzy was... well, pretty freaking gross. 

Here I am keeping my cool as the big fish chomp at my heel. Although it was unnerving, it wasn't actually painful. I could definitely feel what was happening and looking at it was disgusting, but it just felt like a lot of little mouths nipping at my foot. I'm glad I at least tried the bigger fish, if only so when I do this again I can cop out of it by saying I've already tried it. Pride intact. To do item: checked off the list.

We finished off our exciting day with a trip to a bookstore with a major foreigner section. BOOKS! Then, we got some Korean barbecue (sam gap sal) and met up with some friends for drinks at a hookah bar and karaoke (no rae bong). 

Around 5 a.m., we found a 24-hour diner and had a soup called budae jjigae, which literally means "army base stew," but my friend introduced as "garbage soup." During the Korean War when food (especially meat) was scarce, South Korean soldiers and citizens used to use the U.S. Army's discarded pork, hot dogs, and Spam to make a red pepper stew that is now served with Ramen noodles, too. It was pretty delicious and a fitting end to a day/night of random fun.

Some Fall photos

Today one of my co-teachers had to leave school early, so I had both first grade classes combined in one room. It was a little crowded, but it's so much more fun to play games with twice as many kids! Here they are working on their "rainbow words" which is really just a tricky way to get them to write their spelling words multiple times -- they get to write them in different colors.

On the left is one of the students who has an American dad and Korean mom. Check out these sweet character hoods. It's getting so cold, and I can't wait to see more of them!

The Cherry five year olds were being goofy for the camera. They all turn on the charm whenever someone points a cell phone their way, so it's hard to catch them standing still!

These are two of my absolute favorite students. THEY ARE THE CUTEST. Their names are Mason and Jacob, and they have the best personalities. They're both so energetic and happy, but really smart too! Here, Mason's putting on his shoes because it's time to go home.

This sign is how I found my new apartment my first few days here. This has to be the most accurate depiction of a child's barbershop experience ever.

Fall is here! Also, Koreans only seem to buy cars in white, silver, and black. It took me awhile to realize why the roads looked so strange -- there are no colorful cars whatsoever. The Fast and the Furious meets Fifty Shades of Grey.

I know I need to start taking pictures of my food, but other than that do you guys have any other photo requests? Let me know and I'll see what I can do^^ (Korean smiley face). My cell phone camera isn't spectacular, but it gets the job done!

Four things Koreans do better

Well, I finally got to try Taco Bell in Korea. As good as it was, it just wasn't the same as good old American Mexican fast food. Sometimes it seems like everything in Korea is just a little bit different from it's American counterpart -- from the cars and driving style to clothing and personal space. 

Some of the differences are frustrating (for example: monoculturalism to the point of racism), some of them are bewildering (no public trash cans, just people hired to clean up litter), but a lot of the differences turned out to be better ways of doing things. They're not just different or worse -- they're better.

Here are some of the things I think Koreans do better than Americans.

1. Brush their teeth

Koreans brush their teeth three times a day, without exception. This means most, if not all Koreans keep a toothbrush and toothpaste at work or school to brush their teeth after lunch. At school, even the kids have their toothbrushes stored in the classrooms. After lunch, they all crowd into the bathroom together for a mini-toothbrushing-party. 

Also, when I first got here and had to get a medical checkup, the dentist made sure I brushed my teeth at least three times a day.

Side note: All that extra work might not be paying off because Korean toothpaste doesn't contain fluoride, for whatever reason.

But it does come in some interesting flavors including: pine, charcoal, green tea, and a mysterious tiger herb that I suspect Charlie Sheen might like...

2. Stream TV

In South Korea, anyone with a smart phone (read: everyone over the age of 12), can watch live TV for free on demand. On the subway, at least one of the people on either side of me is always watching some Korean drama on his or her phone. Many taxi cabs also have live television steaming to small TVs that resemble GPS systems. In both instances, the video quality is superb, as well.

3. Dispense tape

Okay, this might not change anyone's life, but this one invention is so simple and yet so effective. Take a look.

So when you turn the knob on the right, the gears spin, turning the tape and delivering it in pieces cut by the plastic spokes. 

This is perfect for schools because there's no blade involved, it's large enough that kids without fine motor skills can operate it, and it's waste-proof since it comes out pre-cut in perfect pieces. 

It seems like such a mundane invention, but this changes the way we do crafts at school. Tape isn't something only teachers can use here -- which is a bigger deal than it sounds like. It fosters self-reliance and allows teachers to focus on things other than repairing ripped papers. It's simply genius. 

Anyone want to start manufacturing these in the U.S.?

4. Squat

Oh, the Kimchi squat. The perfectly-executed Korean squat requires the person's butt touch his or her Achilles' while the feet remain flat on the ground. Try it (but while no one's around, because you will fall). 

Every day, I see people showcasing their squatting skills: from my students to grandmas on the street selling vegetables to my boss at work. The adjummas -- Korean grandmas -- can squat lower than I ever could, even in my softball catching heyday. They do it to work on the ground, while eating a snack, waiting for the bus -- whenever!

I remember the first time I saw the squat: It was in 2009 on Wando Island and our bosses were outside the building talking. One of them, a spry 40-something named Mr. Kim, was squatting so low it looked like his butt was touching the ground. I asked him, "What are you doing?" To which he replied, "I take a rest." Yes, folks, the Korean squat is a position of comfort and relaxation.

Doesn't this look comfortable? Like a day at the spa...

Indeed, Korea boasts some pretty ingenious improvements for efficiency's sake, even things as simple as putting to-go fast food cups in little bags so they're easy to carry. Don't get me wrong though, there's plenty of things America does better, and Taco Bell is at the top of that list.

The DMZ: Part two

So this is a follow-up to my first post about my tour of the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea. As I said, the first half of the tour included visits to the Third Infiltration Tunnel, Dorasan Observatory, and the Dorasan train station. 

The second half of the tour took place at the United Nations Command military post Camp Bonifas and the Joint Security Area, which is another name for Panmunjom, where neither North nor South Korea have administrative control. This is also the village where the Korean Armistice Agreement was negotiated and signed in 1953.

When we arrived at Camp Bonifas, we were immediately boarded by U.S. Army Private First Class Martinez, who was to be our tour guide. He stumbled a bit through a brief itinerary before alerting us that this was in fact his first solo tour. His very first tour, with a superior as back-up, had indeed been that morning. 

Although I expected to hear some complaints, everyone clapped and laughed along with him as he settled into his new position. Maybe it was a desperate need to relieve some tension, but everyone seemed to be supportive and light-hearted about his rookie status. Perhaps we missed out on a few tidbits of information or a perfectly-scripted speech, but his genuine excitement and nervous improvisation were a fair trade, in my opinion. He joked about getting "Tour Guide" tattooed on his back instead of the machine guns his pals were sketching out. Oh well, not a bad gig, all things considered.

We got off the bus and joined another group in a large auditorium on the base. There, U.S. and South Korean (Republic of Korea, or ROK) soldiers supervised as we all signed waivers which stipulated, "The visit to the Joint Security Area at Panmunjom will entail entry into a hostile area and possibility of injury or death as a direct result of enemy action." The waiver also listed things we weren't allowed to do, including: take photos of anything ever (unless we were told we could), make any sort of gesture toward the North Koreans, make any kind of strange faces or expressions, go anywhere we weren't directed, attempt to get anyone's attention, speak to anyone not on the tour, wear white after Labor Day, or swim less than 30 minutes after eating. 

Once we signed over our first born, a veteran tour guide took the reins and gave a brief lecture on the history of the JSA and Camp Bonifas. Although it was a lecture about history supported by a Powerpoint presentation, it was anything but cheesy. The man knew his stuff, too; I have never heard anyone talk so quickly. PFC Martinez certainly has a lot of growing up to do.

The first place we went was  the Freedom House, which holds facilities for meetings and exchanges. After another reminder that North Koreans would be watching and filming us, we were taken outside to see the main North Korean building, Panmungak, and the small, blue conference buildings along the Military Demarcation Line. 

Here, ROK soldiers stand guard because of the tour. They are not required to stand there 24 hours a day -- just during tours and when any talks or meetings are held in the blue conference buildings. Note: They stand partially behind the building in order to obscure themselves as targets and so they can discreetly signal back when needed. This is the only place along the DMZ where North and South Korean soldiers stand face-to-face.

Dealing with tonsillitis and a fever sans cowbell

One week ago, I woke up Monday morning with a tickle in my throat that progressed to swollen tonsils and a high fever by that afternoon. After one of the worst nights of my life, my VP said I could go to the doctor early and come in a little late (I believe one of the other teachers was giving the VP a play-by-play as I complained to her). That the VP insisted I come in late was surprising to myself and all the other teachers as Korean schools RARELY give sick days. This is because both the Korean and foreign teachers are under yearly, salaried contracts, so we get paid whether we teach or not.

At the hospital, I found out I had tonsillitis and got a prescription for some antibiotics. Even more shocking, the VP graciously gave me the rest of the day off, so I went home and proceeded to sleep more than 20 hours. I didn't feel much better and still had a fever. The next morning (Wednesday), the VP insisted I go to a different hospital and even sent one of the school bus drivers to take me there. This hospital was much better and the doctor seemed more experienced, except that he was so surprised when he looked in my mouth, he actually said, "Wow!" out loud. This made me a little nervous. He said the infection was so severe that if I were Korean, he would have taken out my tonsils right away. My first surgery in a foreign country? No, thank you.

Anyway, he wrote me a prescription for some (better?) medicine, and I was on my way again. The bus driver was really sweet and gave me his phone number for when I was finished; so I called him up and butchered some Korean, and he took me home again. The next morning, I was feeling better so I went to school, but after one class, the VP canceled my kindergarten sessions and asked a Korean teacher to assist in my afternoon class. I can't get over how helpful and kind everyone was. I feel very grateful.

In all, the VP gave me an unprecedented two days off and kept texting me to check in. It was really thoughtful and I'm thankful for all she and the other teachers did. A few of the other teachers picked up any of my classes that weren't canceled while I was gone. I felt guilty, but I don't think I would've gotten better were it not for the rest they afforded me (I ended up sleeping more than 40 hours out of the 48 I was home).

Overall, having a severe tonsil infection and fever to start the week couldn't have gone better. I feel bad knowing the VP and administrators might not have been as understanding or helpful were it another teacher who was sick, but I can't be anything but appreciative for how they treated me.

Today, I finally feel 100% -- no lingering stuffiness or coughing from before the tonsillitis, either! And it's just in time, too: My student loan repayment begins today! Oh hello, adulthood, where did you come from?

The Demilitarized Zone: Part one

I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. Ever since coming to Korea for the first time back in 2009, I had wanted to visit the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea. At long last, Saturday morning, I experienced the DMZ in all its eerie glory.

My friend and I booked a tour through the USO in Seoul. The cost was about $90 and we had to reserve our spots at least a week in advance, as many of the tours sell out. (In fact, both the Saturday tours were sold out that day, despite less-than-ideal sightseeing weather.) 

With our reservation receipt, I received a dress code so extensive it reminded me of my Catholic high school, where we had a choice between only two kinds of shoes. Nothing could be seen as threatening or used as propaganda against the U.S. by North Koreans. Realizing this made me a twinge uneasy.

Uneasy but excited, I woke up early Saturday morning to a steady downpour of rain that refused to let up all day. We took a bus and then the subway to the USO office and made it there by 8:30 a.m. After having our passports checked, we (about 35-40 foreigners from the U.S., Ireland, and other countries) loaded onto a tour bus. There, we were given necklace passes identifying us as USO tour participants and our passports were checked again. I'm not sure why they checked our passports multiple times, but I've been told Korean citizens aren't allowed to go on the USO tour. 

Our tour guide was a Korean man who adopted the English name Vincent. As is par for the course, it was impossible to tell how old he was (maybe 15, maybe 37?), but he said he has been on this tour "hundreds of times." He began by giving a brief itinerary of the tour: We would start with the Third Infiltration Tunnel, then visit the Dora Observatory and Dorasan Station before lunch; after lunch, we would go to Camp Bonifas, which is part of the Joint Security Area, for a tour given by the U.S. military.

Our first stop was the third infiltration tunnel, which is one of four tunnels discovered (so far) that the North Koreans dug in anticipation of an attack on the capital of Seoul. Vincent explained that although the ground around the tunnel is completely composed of granite, there is coal powder coating the tunnel walls because the North Korean soldiers feigned digging for coal as an excuse when the tunnels were discovered. Vincent, and later that night my friend Ethan (who served his military service at the DMZ), laughed at this excuse, saying the North Koreans were terrible liars and a few other choice adjectives*. They also like to point out that all the evidence of dynamite blasts point toward the south, making it obvious who was doing the excavating.

*I should note here that any animosity South Koreans have toward North Koreans is directed explicitly at the soldiers and those in power leading up to and during the Korean War. Now, attitudes seem to be a mixture of apathy and "I wish we could all just get along, but oh well," which is also a bit apathetic now that I think of it. Mostly, they (I'm over-generalizing for simplicity's sake) just don't think about North Korea. They certainly don't think of them as much as Americans, and specifically those in the U.S. media, seem to. There are very few South Koreans who are legitimately afraid of North Korea. Which begs the question: If they aren't, why are we? But I digress... To the tunnel of love!

Donning bright yellow hard hats, we trekked the entire length of the tunnel, occasionally awakening the contortionist within due to low ceilings or to squeeze past those heading the opposite way. At the end of the tunnel, there were barricades and strict instructions about where you can stand. No photography was allowed anywhere near the tunnel, but that was especially enforced at the end point. There, I was able to peer through a window and actually see the Military Demarcation Line, which is the exact boundary line separating North and South Korea, and is surrounded by the Demilitarized Zone. It was quick, but surreal.

We trudged through the rain and back onto the bus for our next stop: the Dora Observatory. This is an observation point situated on top of Dorasan (Dora Mountain), from which you can usually see two North Korean villages and a propaganda village, which was set up by the North Koreans to flaunt their "prosperity" to South Korean and foreign tourists, but was discovered to be completely fake and uninhabited. Again, there were restrictions regarding photography, and our view was honestly not great due to the rain, but here's a photo of me (taken from behind an unmistakable, bold yellow line, as directed), with North Korea in the background.

After the observatory, we visited the Dorasan Train Station, which was the last stop on its line before North Korea. The railroad hasn't been operational since 2008, but is also famous for hosting former president George W. Bush back in 2002, where he gave a speech about solidarity between the U.S. and South Korea.

Like the tunnel and the observatory, the station was not as physically remarkable as the history and events it has come to represent to the world. It was sobering to be in the presence of such history and to imagine the things that had been thought, said, and done in each of these places.

Although the rain was logistically inconvenient, it added a layer of eerie quiet that I appreciated as I attempted to take in everything we saw and heard. I was also thankful for the bus rides between sites and the time these rides afforded for digesting all the information -- sensory and otherwise -- being thrown at us.

After lunch, we took the bus to the United Nations Command military post Camp Bonifas in the Joint Security Area just 400 meters south of the DMZ.

As this post is on the border (no pun intended) of being excruciatingly long, I will write about the JSA and Camp Bonifas in a second post. Apologies for my wordiness! Thanks for your patience!

Mothers' Participation Day

Well, in the past week I have survived the intense scrutiny of North Korean soldiers and more than 300 South Korean mothers visiting Jayon Kindergarten for Mothers' Participation Day. I think it's safe to say I can do just about anything.

I'm still working on my post about my trip to the DMZ -- it's been difficult trying to articulate everything I experienced there -- but with Mothers' Participation Day finally over, I'll have much more free time to devote to digesting the experience.

Mothers' Participation Day was actually a two-day extravaganza on Friday and Saturday that we've been preparing for all month. I was only personally responsible for six 30-minute sessions: my three five-year-old classes were split in half based on the mothers' availability. For these sessions, I had to plan a complete English lesson including three songs and at least two activities. When they pitched this to me back in September, I thought: No big deal. I do this every day.

Wrong.

I had to pre-plan every single word I was going to say down to which student I would call on for each turn of every activity. And the activities had to involve the mothers. And each kid had to be called the exact same number of times, because the moms would be counting. Oh, and they better be able to do what I call them up to do, lest the mother be embarrassed in front of the other mothers. And they better not have to wait too long for their turn because the moms would definitely complain about that. The moms would take a survey at the end of the day and also complain if I didn't look professional, if I talked too fast, or if they didn't think their children could understand me. These were the conditions I knew about beforehand.

During the lessons, I found, I would also have to adapt with kids and their mothers who did or didn't show up, unplanned and unannounced. As an extra obstacle, they also threw in a videographer, who had to get certain kids on camera because they ordered a DVD. So if the videographer came into my classroom, I had to scrap the plan and call on the kids with DVD stickers on their shirts, while still keeping in mind that everyone get the same number of turns and in a fair order. It. Was. Stressful.

Also, these were the pressures placed on those of us who had each class for 30 minutes and who received our instructions through a translator. I can't even imagine the pressure put on the poor Korean kindergarten teachers. It was visible on each of their faces up until the Thursday before. I don't know how, but they all managed to cover up their anxieties and put on an Oscar-worthy show for the mothers, even though the day before the VP had been yelling at them about their windows not being clean enough. I really thought one teacher was going to cry at school.

In the end, we all made it out alive -- at least until we hear about the feedback from the mothers tomorrow... I'll let you know how we did! For now, I'm going to chalk it up as a win and get back to my Kindle. Happy three-month anniversary to me!

Halloween and scarier things... Korean moms!

First of all, I'd like to apologize for my radio silence this past week. I now realize taking a break from writing after foreshadowing my trip to the DMZ was poor planning, but this has been the most hectic week yet. (I will definitely be writing about that experience as soon as possible.) From what I hear, in fact, this might be the busiest, most stressful week of the school year for us.

It's a bit of a perfect storm around here as two major events and a handful of deadlines all fell in the same week. First of all, as you probably know, Halloween was this Wednesday.  Besides the foreign teachers dressing up in costumes, we were also put in charge of all decorating and celebration-planning.

For the actual kindergarten classes, we had a regular day; but the extra kindergarten classes in the afternoon were combined for Halloween festivities. We had about 25 six year olds together to make masks, ghosts, and pumpkin crafts; play party games, and go mock trick or treating. These special classes are usually the most stressful of the day because there are no Korean teachers around to help with discipline or explaining things that are confusing. This craziness was amplified exponentially by the number of students, the party atmosphere, and the outrageous sugar intake. It was fun, yes, but the planning and execution was very taxing for myself and my co-teacher.

Immediately after the special kindergarten class, the elementary kids began to arrive. It's tradition that these kids come in costume and they've been buzzing about it all week. The same co-teacher and I split the first graders into two groups for regular class, but for Halloween, we combined them for crafts and decorating their candy bags....