Buddha's Birthday

I celebrated Buddha's Birthday,May 15th at Hwaonsa, a 1,000 yr-old temple in the mountains of Jirisan Nat'l park, located in the Southwestern corner of the country. The temple was beautiful, there was activity and lotus lanterns everywhere, and it was hot.

we didn't stay long, because we were itching to hike. these pics are of the gate guardians of the temple. They supposedly shoo away the evil spirits. In the final picture, he is shooing away Michael, an irish tourist.

Snack Time with Banana Class

Childrens' Day Celebration Friday May 2nd

The Holiday's actually on Monday, May 5th.

This is Edward---------------------->
I think he kindof looks like Totoro
















<--Water Relay Dissipates into a good old-fashioned all-out water brawl
























"My name is Eric. I like Transformers. My brother is Tommy."

"Hi Eric, how are you today?"


"My name is Eric. I like Transformers. My brother is Tommy."







This is pretty much the cutest picture in the history of Pictures. Kelly Teacher and Sunny Student.
















Grace, Me and Eric taken juust as Kevin was dumping a bucket of cold water on my backside. you can almost see his ting little head working behind me.

1 hour, 10 minutes!

I apologize for not writing in so very long. It's funny thing about being abroad. at first, everythign is so new and I am writing all the time and I then I settled into a routine, a mood, and started being at home here. so man times i want to write and tell you all whats up in my life but i'd rather be outside because it's so beautiful, or I don't have my computer, or i'm so busy writing monthly reports. but here, now, I have something so exciting to write about.
i have now been runnin in the gym for 6months and got the opportunity this Saturday to run in my very first ever race with other people and numbers and medals and everything. I started out running with Noel and Josh, two other redheads, and kept up with them for the first 10 mins of the race, but Josh was pushing thru in order to pull a good ranking, I was just interested in keeping a good pace and finishing at all. so I dropped back, turned on my ipod and settled myself into a steady pace.
The countryside was very...well, korean. We were running alongside a river and surrounded by foothills, as Korea is a country of foothills. construction was everywhere, there were pockets of korean ajimas and ajashiis waiting along the trail cheering us on. A steady trail of runners snaked in front and behind me on the path, and the runners' flow kept me running--mostly.
It was soooo hot today. I made sure to cover myself in sunscreec, but i def. burned my neck, and the elements made the race interesting. I pushed thru the last kilometer to the tune of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the encouraing words of one of the Waygooks I had bussed with, who jumped in and ran the last bit with me.
I remember that last kilometer the best, as I was running up a hill and I started to get a buzz of adrenaline when I realized i was going to finish this mother of a race and that this is a huge accomplishment for me. it summarizes for me a whole lot of work i've put in on myself--emotionally and physically--and worked thru by runnning.
and now i sit at home, showered and smelling of honey-vanilla, and I can say, I did it. I can do it again, and I am capable of setting my goals and accomplishing them, even if they seem possibly impossible.
I am looking forward to the unknown ahead and trying to push toward it with the same kind of determined enthusiasm that I put into my running.

Please Consider the Caterpillar

If it chooses a leaf of an apple tree to chomp or it crawls on the ground as he gathers up dust and god knows what on his sticky suction-feet as he inches along and risks in his favor being squished by a tire of a bike, or a large squarish toe that may come down and end the creature evermore. Perhaps it is scooped up in the pudgy hands of a boy and placed in a jar that is all but manageable to balance between his chin and the rim of his bicycle handlebars as he travels homeward and places the jar and the thing in a window where it may be poked with a stick or smashed by stone and shaken beyond repair in a clinking translucent cell. If, however, the young insect chooses to cling to the safety of its tree at least never being beaten, smashed, or shaken; no harm to him has been visited. It strays only a few feet, to roam and to eat. And it picks a sweet spot just to build a cocoon just living the dream of an old fashioned bug. He entombs himself up in a cask of its making from either fear of a boy or maybe he’s bored. So he hides fast away from the light of the world and maybe the wind and the rain shake the tree, maybe he suffocates when a lazy child forgets to poke holes in the prison lid. Perhaps the sun shines too hot and too long and toasts the poor beast before it’s time. Regardless of risks and the choices he’s made; a boy and a jar or a purported safe limb, if all goes as nature intends in his plan, the creature will grow and once again stir; the creature will labor itself from that pill. It will surface with pride and broaden its wings. Charging his choices for present results. In conscious reality, friends, what do you expect? Regardless of choices, location and consequence, it emerges upright, no surprises—a butterfly.

Spectator

He is staring
He is looking
Right at me with
No reservation
No shame. The man
Who just vomited
On that rock
is not smiling, No emotion
on his face, plain entitlement
As man To stare
Just looking
the Korean on foreigner
recipient of his gaze
No harm; Just looking
Chunks of ham and rice
Lay fully formed atop
a damp patch of stone
That man that Just puked
as I walked by
At 230
this afternoon
watches me
walk away

We're Different, We're the same

...here's some of those differences

Bathrooms

Firstly, when you go to a bathroom; you never know what you’re going to get. Will you be sitting on a Western toilet? Or will you be bending over an Asian porcelain squatter? This, I make a giant assumption is the best reason I can see that Korean people do not wear shoesin their homes. Who would want urine tracks around where their children crawl? Ick. Really, the squatters aren’t so bad, once you figure out how to use them. But I’ve made mental notes in downtown Cheonan of my favorite bathrooms. Where are the squatters, where are the Western toilets, which ones have toilet paper, which ones don’t. and which ones smell like fucking smoke.
Bathroom diff #2: Opseo Yeoja Tambe. Good girls do not smoke in public. Being a good girl myself, who does not smoke in public or private, this is one of my bigget pet peeves. If you smoke in public you’re easy, therefore many female (Yeoja) stalls all have raunchy ash trays sitting to the side and sometimes on the floor with a wet paper towel sitting inside of it. One time I was at a club downtown, and after a few too much Soju cocktail, I reeeally had to pee. I went to a bathoom with two stalls. Stall # 1 had janitor supplies in it and a broken door. Three yeojas were waiting in line. The woman in stall #2 was taking so stinkin long. I could hear her cough and puffs of smoke coming out from underneath the door. This is no sort of rebel girl in the high school girls’ room thing, this is a culturally accepted tradition. Many of the older folk around here believe that if a yeoja smokes in public, she is easy, loose. Although with this new generation, things are evolving, and younger women are seen smoking in public more often, butnever around respected elders (teachers, parents, etc). back to the story, I got tired of waiting. The yeoja in front of me in “line” was busy smearing and lolling her drunken forehead against the smoke-lurrified mirror. I stepped into stall #1 to test the squatter’s flushing mechanism. It worked. I moved a mop, a bucket, and finally I hoisted the door over the supplies. I did my business with a slight bemusement at my whimsical cunning throughout. As I moved the door to get back to my crowd, I noticed the three yeojas in line had not moved. the aforementioned young lady had positioned herself with an elbow against the counter to keep herself in an upright position, (I can’t imagine her aim would be so very good). Bathroom smoking aside, I think I could get used to this snooze ya loose eithic conerning lines in bathrooms.

Bathroom diff#3: Do not flush it down! To the right of each toilet, regardless of its type, isa trash bin. You may ansert whatver you have used to wipe yourself here. Many times these bin are overflowing and some tissues cascade onto the floors. Don’t mind that. Just try to keep your face out of the bin as you bend over to do your business, and with that in mind, keep your shoes at the door when you go inside anyone’s home.
Bathroom Diff #4 Line up right behind the exact stall you want to use. There’s none of this one-line crap. I meanreally? This is weird and not just a little confusing. At a rest stop on the highway once I was cut in front of so many times I started yelling in English and have gotten very pushy as a result.
LINES MEAN NOTHING IF YOU ARE NOT FAST ENOUGH.

Ahhh… I am going back to KCI on Monday. Today is Sunday, nearly 1 hour in to the last day of my vacation. It’s actually kindof an interesting signpost for me. August, Sept, Oct, Nov, Dec. 5 months. I’ve been here five months. When I got here, I started off with summer English camp, first week with no kindergarten at all. I hate English camp. It’s two kids and a teacher and you are not used to them and it’s a little boring. Last time I was spankin’ new and really didn’t know what I was doing or what I should be teaching, so I just realiy did nothing for about a week. I think it’ll be interesting to see how I do this time as a little more seasoned of a teacher. I know the kids now, and I know what they should be learning, and I’m not afraid to talk to them. But OH how I hate English camp. I suspect there’ll be a lot of crosswords going around. I plan to bring my laptop and play Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego with at least my 2 Elementary Advanced classes. That should be interesting. I wonder where I put that disk…. did I mention it's crazy snowing? yay!

Happy Holidays!

This is snowboarding at Pyeongchang

The Cafeteria Trend

This is a pretty common sight in eating trends in South Korea, it seems: Cafeteria-style fooding. Firstly, you approach a brightly-lit display case featuring plastic replicas and tiny placards of what could be coming to a plate near you very soon. everything from Mul-naem-young, KimBap and Donkaas, to a large bowl meant for sharing of many people guest starring various seafood parts. I try to peer closely trough the glass at the replicas in attempt to denote what KIND of meat is "in there," but to no avail. Here's what I think I know: if it's a little red, it's probably imitation crab. If it has tentacles or suckers; squid.
Anything tubular and a sickening brown, over-boiled color is probably some sort of animal’s ass-tasting intestine. It’s best to go with your gut on this one and steer clear of this big bowl. You pick your entree and write it down on a piece of paper if you can't remember it, or if you're too intimidated to try to pronounce it. Approach the cash registers situated not too far from the display, and sound it out. "H-har-ree-oo-deh-bohk-eum-bap, jewseyo (please)." "you peer up anxiously and a little proud at your attempt at the hangul. The woman behind the counter smiles politely and hands you a reciept with a food stall # and a food order #. You find a table--I prefer to sit by the window, looking out from the fifth-story room onto the busy main street of downtown Cheonan, car lights and gaudy neon signs from “leechard prohaiya” on every-other-block corner sparkling in the evening rain. But then again, so does everyone else, so sometimes you have to settle for a seat by the watercooler. You look with each chime of the constant bing-bong! calling up digital numbers while you sit and wait in a little plastic chair like at the DMV where you’ve taken your number like everyone else but it seems with each bing! someone else is called forward, and with every bong! you start to think that maybe you should clear your schedule because obviously you’re not going anywhere anytime soon; but just like that you keep staring with a vague hope of the knowledge that one of those kitchens is making my food right now. and then at last! The restaurant/kitchen on your ticket flashes #124. Your number! well finally. You spring up like a fool prizewinner at an auction. You trade your ticket for a tray of food that looks similar to the thing in the display case up front although not so bright and shimmery, pick up some silver chopsticks and a spoon to the left of the man in the apron and funny hat, and off to your table you carry your dinner accompanied by a side of a light soup and kimchi. always kimchi. Eat.