It's Been A Long Time (Returning to Korea and To Blogging)

I am so grateful to have another term here in the wonderful country of South Korea.  Last term I let a break-up taint my experience and I let this "funk", as I so lovingly called my sour mood, keep me from blogging.

My second term here is another chance to do things right.  And what better way to start a grand new adventure than with a stressful international flight.

Get to the airport at least an hour early.  Yes, we all know this.  I know this, you reading this undoubtedly knows this.  But you'll be reminded anyway.  No, the woman at the Alaskan Airlines counter does not care that your itinerary says Delta and so you went to the Delta counter only to wait and be told that actually your flight is with Alaskan.  She also doesn't care that you waited in line for 30 minutes to talk to her.  No.  There is a strict 40 minute cutoff and she was not going to let me on my flight.  You see, I only had 38 minutes.

"What can I do, then?" I asked.  Internally I told myself not to make a fuss or panic.  I would get to Korea one way or another.  I just hoped I didn't need to buy a new ticket.

She let out an exasperated huff.  "Let me go ask my supervisor."

When she returned she informed me that they would make an exception for me (how kind) and she took my bag gave me my boarding pass.  "Hurry," she said with a condescending sort of tone, "You only have 30 minutes.  You better run."

"Thank you," I said, because my Pacific Northwest heart wouldn't allow me not to, and I hurried through security (five minutes) and down to the last gate (ten minutes) found my seat (mere moments) and waited for my plane to take off (about fourty-five minutes).  Tell me to run... The woman at the desk continued to piss me off for most of the flight, but not as much as the two people seated to my right who discussed wine and Italy and the irresponsibility of twenty-somethings in a flirty fashion the entire two hours to LAX.

My layover in LAX was only two hours from landing of one plane to the taking off of the other.  No problem. I stupidly thought to myself.  In LAX if you are transferring to an international flight you have to go to an outside terminal, Tom Bradley, with its own security.

TSA is allowed to be frustrated.  I get it.  Your job isn't easy.  Although often times they should be frustrated, they usually are not.  I have never had a bad experience with TSA in PDX.  Not so much as a downward turned mouth.  Besides maybe a firm voice where necessary I  have never experienced a TSA agent be anything but nice.

Tom Bradley is where they send the surliest and least patient TSA agents to all piss each other off.  Security took about an hour and a half which is a little nerve racking in and of its own.  But the agents made it far worse.  Nearly all of us in line were waiting to go to South Korea and, with the size of the plane, it should have been assumed that we all needed to go through security.  But our mere existence pissed them off.  One agent had an elderly woman with a Chinese passport come up and she spoke loudly and slowly despite the woman speaking English.

"Wooooooow..." the agent said.  "You're late.  You're plane is boarding already.  Do you know boarding?"

"Yes," the woman said, "I have been waiting in line."

This response should have been enough for the agent to stop speaking to her like a child who just drank the secret stash of horse tranquilizers.  But it wasn't.

"It is 10:35.  TEN.  THIRTY.  FIVE.  Do you understand?  You should be on your plane by now."

"I have been waiting in line since before nine-thirty," the woman said with more patience and sweetness than I knew someone could muster in such a situation.  I would have gladly decked the agent for her if I hadn't been in a separate line (and also afraid of being tased).

The agent looked away, before handing the woman's passport and boarding pass back.  "Don't know what to tell you.  Run, run, run," she said, making the motion of running with her index and middle fingers.

Because running through the scanners passed TSA agents is the best of advice.

If you are going to have such a frustrating start to your day followed by a thirteen hour flight, make sure that flight is with Korean Air.

Holy F bomb.

I sat down in my seat as the uber kind flight attendants put my heavy carry-on in the overhead compartment.  In front of me was a television that I assumed they would show the in-flight movies on.

Before I could look into it much another flight attendant came up to me.  "Excuse me, miss.  Did you order the vegetarian meal?"

Relief.  "Yes," I said with a smile.  "Thank you."

"Would you like a drink with lunch?"

"Oh, no thank you," I said, maintaining my smile but inwardly thinking Ain't nobody got money for that!

My focus returned to the TV in front of me.  My initial assumption had been wrong.  You choose what you want to watch.  And I don't mean just reruns of Friends and Two and a Half Men (though they have those).  They had brand new movies like Gravity, Last Vegas, Thor, etc., documentaries on travel, food, and a million other things.  Korean shows were listed.  They even had games to play.

Gravity... I thought to myself.  That was supposed to be really good.  I wonder how much it is.  But the only two buttons offered were "Play" and "Trailer".  I assumed if I hit play it would then prompt me to pay for it, or at least tell me the price.  But the movie simply started.

I looked one way, then the other.  Did I break it?  Did it charge my card automatically?

I paused a moment longer as the unthinkable came to my mind.

Was it free?

Indeed it was.  Along with comfortable seats (the most comfortable economy has to offer anyway), two full meals and two snacks, along with a constant barrage of refreshments, all the movies shows and games were free.

I suddenly got a nauseating feeling in my stomach...Had I turned down a free drink?

Indeed, I had.

Motivation to Learn Korean

It has been a long time since my last blog post.  But it has been quite the crazy adventure so far.  And during these adventures I have been able to see similarities and truths in the videos and the articles I read about Korea before arriving.

All the blogs I have read and video blogs I have watched have joked about Korean cars wanting to kill you.  They have joked that if you are not a Christian, you become one in a Korean taxi.  And until recently I laughed along with these jokes and even made them myself, though I didn't really feel any sort of danger.

But a week or so ago, that changed.

The stress of studying so often gets to me, but de-stressing is rather easy.  Back home I would simply take a walk and listen to some good music.  I figured: hey! Even though I am in Korea I still have legs and I still have music!  I can do this!

Before I left for my walk my roommate and I discussed our own personal horror stories about going out late at night.  Always a good idea before trekking into the dark!  "I'm just going to stay nearby," I promised, "And I will be back in twenty minutes."

Rather than going to the nearby park to circle it a bit, as the stories had scared me away from places devoid of lights-posts, I walked up some stairs, around the back of the building, and then back down to where I started, never allowing the dorms to leave my sight.

Head back?  I wondered after it had been just about twenty minutes.  Nah...I'll make one more loop.

I waited patiently to cross the street until there wasn't a car in sight.  Doubling checking once more, I stepped into the street.

I loud noise met my eyes.  What on earth?  It sounded so close and so ominous.  Silver took up half of my vision and it wasn't until I stumbled backwards onto the curb, heart pounding and knees shaking, that I realized the sound I had heard was my body bouncing off the hood of the car.

It what seemed to be slow motion, I watched cars driving by, the street suddenly busy once more.  The security office across the street came in and out of view as the cars rushed by, the light inside the office cast shadows across the street.

What and awful dream...I thought to myself.  What a strangely realistic dream...

But it wasn't.  The car that had hit me slowly moved down the street, questioning as to whether or not it should stop.  He eventually did.

My back went week and I placed my hands on my knees for support, breathing hard and trying to process what exactly had happened.

No one got out of the car.

With as much composure as I could muster I tried to wave the man on, terrified to be yelled at after having been hit by a car.  He got out of the car anyway.

"It's okay.  It's okay..." I said in Korean, shaking my hand back and forth.

"You're okay?" He asked, stepping up onto the sidewalk to meet me.

Cars continued to rush past us despite the fact that it was a campus and not thirty seconds away from the dorm rooms.

I nodded to him after a few deep breath.  "I'm okay..."

"Where are you going?"

"Dorms..."  I probably knew how to make that into a full sentence, but instead I just pointed and said a single world.

He nodded and said some incredible long sentence to me in Korean.

That was the point that I had to start fighting back the tears.  "I don't understand Korean."  I shook both my hands at him defensively, physically moving back a full pace.

"Ahh..." he said in understanding.  "You are a student here?"

"Yes," I said, but all I could think was: Please just leave.  Let me go home.

"You are okay?" he asked.

"Yea..." my brain gave up on Korean and English came out for the first time during our conversation.  "Just scared..."  I put my hands over my heart to show what I was saying, but felt my heart racing against my rib cage.

He laughed uncomfortably.  "I was scared too."

I don't recall exactly how we finally separated.  But I turned away quickly and crossed the street cautiously.  I hurried back to the dorms and made it to the elevator before I realized the pain in my knee, though I made it all the way back to my room before I started crying.

People have told me over and over again that I should have gotten his information.  I know that I should have.  But at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to ask for his information in English, let alone in Korean.  And that got me thinking: in the States, I wouldn't have to.  In the States the pedestrians who had been on the other side of the street would have stopped.  At least some of the passing cars would have stopped.  Those in the security office sure as hell would have come out.  I wouldn't have had to ask for anyone's information.  I've seen it a million times with fender benders.  My friends have had it personally happen to them, and there is always some third party stopping to get involved.

My roommate and I have had lengthy conversations on this topic since.  I am thoroughly enjoying my time in Korea.  I love it here.  But a large portion of the Korean population does not want to get involved.  They will walk by people passed out on the streets, or people fighting, or a girl who just got hit by a car.  It is part of their culture to mind their own business, whereas in the Pacific Northwest, we make it a point for everything to be our business.  Both of these things can be good and they can be bad.

Please, if you plan to go to another country, at least learn the things you need to say in such circumstances.  It isn't what they teach in guidebooks, textbooks, or even classes, but try to make it a point to know how to ask for someone's information in case you are calm enough to remember to ask.

As for crossing the street in Korea, that deserves it's own freaking blog post...

Care Package

     When studying abroad you (and I feel safe making this a generalization) will understimate how much you will miss food back home.  I am lucky enough to have the support of some amazing people to keep me well fed and happy.

     Thank you guys!!!

Do you want to...?

     In the States, if someone asks the question it is just that: a question.  Though it usually serves as an invitation as well, the asker usually wants to know a preference.
     I have learned enough about Korean culture in my short time here to know that when my seniors at the geumdo (Korean sword fighting) club asked if Candy, a new friend, and I wanted to "go for drinking" after practice that we were obligated to do so.
     My stomach tied itself into knots and I truly didn't want to go.  I had prior plans to meet my two close friends here in Korea for a movie and then a stop by a local suljip (alcohol house).  But after misunderstanding the schedule we were told in Korean, we had already showed up a half hour late to practice, and I desperately wanted these people to like me.
     "Oh course!" my mouth said without thoroughly consulting me first.
     "Absolutely," Candy replied.
     Our senior nodded without a smile, "Good."
     With rushed apologies we hurried to the dorms to shower since we had not prepared for the surprise drinking trip.  Both Candy and I chose to dress casually, which was definitely the right choice, and we left to meet them for chimek (chicken and beer).
   It had taken so long for me to decide on which club to attend.  In trying out for the club I was initially most excited about, I would have had to miss out on the opportunity of four other clubs to maybe be accepted into the first one.  As we walked toward Sinchon this came to my mind.  I worried that I had made the wrong choice.
     It didn't help that Candy and I made it the fifteen minute walk to the front gate and waited in a tunnel lit by advertisements, but didn't recieve a response as to where we needed to meet.  Candy glanced at her phone, checking either for messages or the time.  Whichever it was, she sighed and looked back up to me.  "Do you want to just go back?  I'm okay with just relaxing at the dorms."
     I glanced across the street to Yonsei University's front gate.  There was a huge group of people waiting to cross in our direction.  "Why don't we wait to see if they are in this group at least."
     Candy agreed and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I didn't truly believe that they were waiting just across the street, though I hoped.  Though I don't like beer and don't eat chicken, I wanted to make a good impression on the club.  I wanted to be part of something at Yonsei University and couldn't explain exactly why I felt it had to be this group.
     Thankfully, before Candy could suggest just forgetting the whole ordeal once again, we got a text and a map of the chimek restaurant.
     It was dive-y.  The boards of the floor were worn by shoes scuffing across it.  The lights were dimmer in some places and flickering slightly in others.  The tables were positioned quite close together.  I wouldn't be eating the food and (I thought) I wouldn't be drinking the beer.  But I smiled anyway because I freaking love dives.  The people are friendlier, the food is usually better, and I never have to feel out of place.
     My club member made me feel just as welcome.
     US Americans have an awful habit of assuming "everyone speaks English" in foreign countries.  This is not true at all.  You can survive with English in Korea, yes, but you would have to point a lot and certainly would not get to know many of the people.  My club members did not all know English, but they were so warm and accommodating and gave their English their best go in order to include Candy and I more.
     If anyone reads this and wonders if they should join a club abroad, then my advice is to absolutely do it.  If the culture you has chosen is Korean, or like it, wait until the inevitable first trip out as a group to pay if possible.  I paid beforehand but was so lucky with my group of people.

Ewha Mural Village

     Glancing at my watch for the millionth time, I cursed under my breath.  Combining starting off in the wrong direction and the traffic that kept our bus from moving faster than the ajummas outside on the sidewalk, my roommate and I were already twenty minutes late to our "cell group meeting".
     Both of us had signed up for the Mentor's Club at Yonsei University before coming to Korea and, by some sort of luck, had ended up in the same "cell" as they called it- Cell 5.  At the club fair the Mentor's Club tried to stop us and convince us to join their club.  "We're already members," the three of us had said.  But only steps later, we decided this would be a perfect opportunity to discuss the issue of me never receiving a mentor as well as the fact that all the other cells had met up to do fun and exciting things, while we had not since the first night.
     "What cell are you in?" the mentors asked when we explained the situation.
     When we said that we were members of cell 5 they shared a knowing glance, it wasn't the first time they had heard it.  They promised that it would be fixed and, sure enough, the next day we received word of our first cell group meeting since orient ion.  We would be going to Ewha Mural Village on a Saturday that everyone was busy.  Though we weren't completely sold, my roommate and I came to the conclusion that if we were the ones to complain, we better show up to the meeting.
     But there we were, an hour into a bus ride that was supposed to take twenty minutes, and arriving a full half hour late.  My roommate continued to text her mentor, but eventually stopped getting a reply and we had no idea where to meet them besides at station three of Hyewha station.  When we eventually got a hold of someone they very kindly agreed to come down to meet us.
     It wasn't far off from the station (straight out the stairs walk about 50 yards and turn to your left, then just down the street), but the hills and stairs certainly made sure we got our workout in.

                                          

     These were just some of the stairs that filled our day!  There were less decorative stairs that were far worse, but I was just happy when we began to arrive to the murals.  And I had to admit that they were far more beautiful than I had expected.  I was so glad that I had felt obligated to attend.

     Some murals were cute and whimsical (actually, most of them were).

                              

     And some were simply not what I had expected.  This three dimensional piece was just some of the surprising ones that showed up throughout the village.

     The view was quite beautiful from the top of the village.  Possibly even worth climbing said stairs.

      The one above, I took specifically for my father.  So you better be reading my blog!!!

     This one was my favorite piece.  If I was close enough to get the full detail, I lost the whole picture of the mural.  To me the faces looked so happy, though they weren't grinning from ear-to-ear or placed on a neon-bright background.  The tears in the paint and the age of it just gave it even more character.

     After we left the village the group decided that it would be good to have an early dinner, I think the mentors were spent and wanted to go home.  But not even the walk to the restaurant was boring because there was a large group of children playing on these statues (?).   

     That's right friends and family.  Those are mosaic poops.  There was a larger poop, that was also more colorful, but there were still children on it.  I thought taking a picture of mosaic poop decorations was strange enough, I didn't need to add photographing someone's children to it (though they let their children play on giant, colorful poops...so they may not have space to judge).

     The group, about twenty of us, made our way to a Korean barbecue restaurant.  Once again, the mentors had already ordered for us.  Frustrated, I asked those at my table if it was Korean culture to order for your group and they assured me that it wasn't, but since we were such a large group, it was easier to do so.

     Before coming to Korea I was under the impression that it would be equal parts meat and vegetable, but this is not the case.  Above is the meal that was served.  At the top are two strips of mushroom and a piece of onion.  Besides this there was lettuce to wrap the meat in and kimchi (though this is nearly always cooked with fish sauce).

      The mentors were nice enough to let my roommate and I order nengmyeon (ice noodles) instead, though our group shot us dirty looks when our meal combined came to 5,000 won, half of what each individual had to pay for barbecue.
     After most of the group dispersed, six of us stayed together and split some patbingsu (Korean shaved ice).  This is shaved ice topped with sweat red beans and other things.  Our "other things" was dok (rice cakes) and assorted nuts with a scoop of ice cream on top.  I avoided the ice cream but later found out that the beans are cooked with a good portion of condensed milk.  My stomach will not be happy tomorrow.

      And of course you cannot pass the tent making bbobki without buying some!  I am sad to announce that we did not successfully break out the star (which results in a free bbobki), but was also simply relieved when I was not the one to break it.

     Not a terribly flattering picture.  You cannot tell here, but I certainly feel healthy and happy in Korea, but the stairs and heat were not good to me.

     My mentor still remains a mystery that may never be solved.

Club Day

     It was hot, but not unbearably so as it has been for the past couple weeks, only hot enough to remind me that I had forgotten sunscreen and to make me wish I had purchased that fan at the convenience store.
     "Excuse me," someone said in Korean.
     My friends and I turned to look at who had been speaking, and if they were speaking to us.  A smiling man in his mid-twenties handed one of my friends and me a fan with his club name and registration information printed on it.  "Oh, thank you!" I replied back.  We turned to leave but he stopped us once more to hand our other friend a fan as well.
     I shook the fan as we began down the pathway again and it produced a cool stream of air.  "This is much better than the ones at Daiso."
     "Good thing you didn't buy that one!" one of my friends said, waving her own fan without trying to read the club information.
     The main road entering the front gate of Yonsei University is little more than a single lane wide, though Korean drivers always find a way.  On either side of the road is a section of grass followed by a pathway nearly as wide as the road itself.  On both pathways, white and blue striped tents filled the walkway, leaving only enough space for a thin line of passersby and one enthusiastic club member drawing you into their club's tent.
     My friends and I had just heard of a girl a few days prior being turned down to join a club.  We assumed this was because she was an exchange student and was not allowed into certain clubs.  This clearly had not been the case because we were beckoned in towards nearly every club.
     My friends, being both of Asian decent, one Korean and one Chinese, were called in with excited Korean.  I, on the other hand, was yelled for in English nearly every time.  Dance here, play instruments there, and volunteer everywhere!  There were probably a dozen clubs I was interested in, and of those eleven of them were excited at the prospect of my friends and me signing up.
     I didn't realize the school had so much to offer outside of courses.  I suddenly regretted signing up for fifteen credits.  I wished I could quit classes altogether and attend every club instead.
     The information booth gave us a sheet of paper to fill in with six stickers from different clubs.  It seemed that it was my role to enthusiastically sign up for information on every other club, while my friends followed behind asking, "Do you have stickers?".  Collecting all six stickers needed gave us an opportunity to win a bike or a video camera.  This was clearly meant for the regular Yonsei students (what were international students going to do with bicycle?!).  But we turned in our stickers anyway and entered in for a chance at the prizes.
     I cannot think of a better way to meet Koraen students than by joining a club made up of mostly Korean students!  Some clubs were excited at the prospect of signing up some international students such as my friends and me, while others were either too nervous to speak to us or were simply cold towards us.  We simply wrote these people off as the type we probably wouldn't end up getting along with anyway.
     I probably signed up for a dozen different clubs, and am excited to join at least two or three of them.  The rest of the week and the following weeks is to be filled with not only our initial coursework, but orientations, meet-ups, workshops, and auditions for the different clubs around campus.

First Day of Classes

Registration for Yonsei University is ridiculous.  I have heard from many people that it is the same at the other Korean universities as well (worse at some).  Instead of registration opening and remaining open, you play red-light green-light with registration that is open for hours at a time as though it was a cafe.

I am certainly not alone in my frustration.  Those around me loudly voice theirs as well, asking question after question about when exactly registration will reopen, and why such a date was chosen.

And wait lists? Forget it.  You either get in during that tiny window before the spots fill up (for my chosen classes it was less than thirty seconds), try again during the next registration period days or weeks later, or take the form to your professors in hope that they will sign you into the course.

Solace comes in the fact that the professors know how frustrating this system is.  Though it was only the first day, I did not hear of a single student getting turned down to sign into the classes.  This open and close system means that students cannot drop classes they have decided against either.  This left my first class of the day with plenty of spaces, the professor announcing that she would be allowing anyone who wanted into the class to sign up.

Yonsei has a wonderful Korean Language program at the Korean Language Institute (KLI).  Generally, the intensive is four hours daily for ten week periods.  However, if you take these classes as an exchange student the classes occur with the regular semester (sixteen weeks) at two hours a day.  Either way, you take the same test that took nearly two hours.

There is a writing portion, which is approximately half multiple choice and half write in, as well as a speaking and listening portion.  The listening portion is an interview.  The group of nearly 400 students who planned to take KLI were broken up into groups of about a dozen and sent to different classrooms.  I was unfortunately the last to be interviewed.  This was such a shame because I could not answer more than two pages of a test that was about 13 pages, so I mostly stared at the linoleum floor until it was my turn for the interview at which point I said in my most nervous of Korean that "level one is fine".  She laughed, asked me a few questions and her face told me that she agreed.  I thanked her, left, and went to stuff my face with the amazing pasta sold just under our dorms.