Seoul Sister (Brother)

In t-minus 8 hours, I will be on a 4.5 hour bus ride en route to Seoul.

There will definitely be some mad updating when I get back on Sunday.

-로라

Update: I didn't arrive in Seoul until 5 p.m. yesterday, because I was busy following a live Red Wings blog during during game 3. Definitely a mistake. There is way too much to see in that city of 10 million to feel aesthetically or culturally fulfilled after having only been there for a night and a day.

En Route:

Couples like to dress alike

Arrival:

Sick.

Seoul is a mad house. I met up with some friends in Itaewon, which is around the corner from a military base. While there, one can't help but stumble upon hundreds of Westerners; at least one third of the pedestrian traffic. Easily. This is a huge change from life in Gyeongju.

International cuisine is everywhere. There are Shawarma street vendors, Greek, Mexican, Cambodian, Vietnamese, and Caribbean restaurants. There are New York Steakhouses, Thai curry stands, authentic Italian hole-in-the-wall restuarants, etc. You name it, Seoul has it. It is literally one of the biggest metropolitan cities in the world, second to only Tokyo.

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We ate dinner at a Greek restaurant called Santorini, where I was able to indulge in saganaki and chicken with lemon sauce (amazing). After dinner we went to a bar called The Bungalow, where you sit in hammock-type chairs, the floor is filled with sand, and margaritas are a reasonable price (W7,000 = $5.50 US). The Bungalow got old real quick, though. There were too many military men doing too many tequila shots, all the while making Americans look like fools who drink too much. So we left, and headed for Hongdae.

Hongdae is one of the 25 major districts in Seoul. Having never been to New York or Los Angeles, this was my first real taste of any sort of metropolis. I loved it too much. There is an endless nightlife, people from all over the world enjoying each others' company, live music in every third bar (or at least it seemed), incredible dance clubs, and, as previously stated, 24 hour international cuisine vendors available on every corner.

A dance club in Hongdae.

The night (morning) ended late. Even though it was 7 a.m., I was too awake to sleep, so I hopped a bus back to Gyeongju at 7:55, and arrived back in my little microcosm near 12:00. Whenever I go back to the city that boasts 10 million people (22 million in the greater metropolitan area), I will be sure to book a motel.

A Cognitive Jog

Another Sunday night, another weekend concluded. A million thoughts are floating around in my head; some nostalgic, some hopeful, some too difficult to explain with any detail or intricacy. I have a lot of questions.

I was watching Larry King today on CNN and there was a panel of people discussing the importance of positive thinking, which would lead to positive thoughts, which would then inevitably lead to good karma. You get back the positive energy you exude, and when someone else is making the decision to be cruel or unkind to you, that is their karma, not yours. It is your decision to then either allow their negativity to be mirrored within yourself or to ignore it, learn from it, and grow as an individual.

The panel also touched on the importance of letting go of the past. Because if we are continually living in aforementioned moments of our lives that have affected us negatively, we will never be able to make progress. That being said, it was discussed that it is also important to make mistakes, because as you all know, without the bad, there would be no satisfaction.

Forgiveness is key, because you never know the initial spark that was ignited in someone to make them do something hurtful. When I say hurtful, I mean in any way. Maliciously, unintentionally, subtly, outwardly, etcetera. Without forgiveness, you cannot let go of pain. But it's all cyclical, isn't it? If you are like me, then you might have the tendency to hold onto pain, because "misery loves company". This does not mean I am miserable, but I, like anyone, have moments where I need to vent my frustrations to people close to me. But by venting my frustrations that means I am seeking not only advice, but attention. Yes, I would like you to sympathize with me because I am only one person, and feeling bad for myself doesn't make me feel any better. But if YOU can at least pretend to understand, or even better, if you can relate to me, then I am no longer alone in my seemingly lonely thoughts and emotions. Therefore, holding onto pain (although I realize is not the healthiest thing to do) connects back to the person that I am now, at this moment, sitting in my chair typing into the (relatively) unknown. Talking to no one and everyone at the same time.

Guilty people seek punishment. Forgiveness is key. You get what you give. You should learn to let go of your past and forgive yourself rather than waiting for others to forgive you first. I suppose it wouldn't be until that happened would you be able to begin any kind of path to self-acceptance and discovery.


There are roses like these lining the streets of Gyeongju. Sometimes I pick one and put it in my hair. I wonder how hard it is to grow them...? There are so many rose bushes sprinkled around the city that I don't think the bushes themselves would miss any of their rose sisters which I've plucked and have used for vain purposes. Right? Hmm. I am having a really hard time ending this post cleverly.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Last Tuesday on my first day off (thanks, Children's Day!) a few of us went to a beach in a nearby town called Gampo. Technically it was a celebratory event for Beau and Simon's birthday, although it really ended up being a bunch of foreigners drinking wine by the East Sea.

Although the beach wasn't the most beautiful I've been to, the ride to and from was stunning. I told myself I would go back there this weekend because I didn't bring my camera last week and I was kicking myself for not having it at an opportune time for photo taking. So that's been my day thus far. I got up, ate a sandwich, packed my bag, and began my mini solo journey to Gampo.

En Route:

After the gorgeous commute, I bought some Sun Chips and a bottle of water and sat on the curb in what I would consider to be downtown Gampo. Although by no means a progressive town, I highly enjoyed sitting in the sun (what UP 82 degrees!) observing the women in traditional Korean clothing, purchasing fish in the market across the street. Blissfully content. I was contemplating what to do next. Should I go and find a restaurant? No, I thought, because I can't speak the language and I don't want to put any more attention on myself than I already am (old-fashioned Korean town + tall female foreigner + blue tanktop = BIG NEWS). Should I go and try and find a spot to write in my journal? Yes! Brilliant idea, Laura. That was half of the reason I came to Gampo, to write-- the other half being me, in a bus, with my iPod, staring at the full, green mountains.

Before I got a chance to find the perfect seaside spot, however, a white minivan pulled over with a short Korean man smiling at me through the window. The conversation went as follows:

Man: Hi!
Me: Hi!
Man: You... uhhh.. what you do here?
Me: I'm... ummm.. taking pictures?
Man: Okay okay okay okay. Uhh.. but.. mmm.. what you DO here?
Me: I'm an English teacher.
Man: Een-gleesh teech-ah!? AHHHH okay okay okay! Where from?
Me: America.
Man: Ah, okay okay okay. But, uh... where from?
Me: Um... USA?
Man: Gampo?
Me: No no, Gyeongju.
Man: AHHHH okay! Een-gleesh teech-ah GYEONGJU!
Me: Naaaaiiiii. (aka, yes, you got it, it's clicked).

At this point, he gets out of the minivan to come talk to me.

Man: You eat?
showing him my bag of Sun Chips
Me: Yes, I eat.
Man: Ahh no no no, you like eat?
Me: Yes, I like to eat.
Man: Okay! You come wid me and my friend! We go eat!
Me: Me no eat, no hungry.
Man: You NO HUNGRY!? You only eat DEES? (pointing to my chips)
Me: Yep. Me no hungry. Thanks anyways though!
Man: Ahh, okay okay okay. So.. mmm.. we go eat!
Me: Ah, okay. We go eat.

Mind you, this is not something I would ever do back at home. But you should all know that South Korea is literally one of the safest countries in the world. They have serious crime laws. For example, an indisputable 1 year jail sentence if you steal someone's iPod. With this in mind, I got in the minivan.

So The Man, His Friend and I drove to this park by the sea, where they were cooking sam gip sol on a beach mat with a few of their friends. I was kindly greeted and fed more than anyone else there (in Korea, it would be considered highly rude to not try and fatten up your guest with as much food as he/she can stomach). It was hilarious. Not to mention delicious. Sam gip sol is pork rib barbequed on a stove, which once it's cooked, you wrap in lettuce, add some sauce, and eat one piece at a time. It is quickly becoming one of my favorite meals here. I had a couple of drinks with them, attempted to teach them some English, was sang to in Korean, and was then given a ride from The Friend back to the bus terminal so I could come back home, and once again indulge my senses in the grandiose scenery .

The Man

Husband and wife. This guy kept calling me Bingo and giving me high fives.

Sam Gip Sol

Needless to say I had a blast. Everything about today was novel, and I finally got some time to be alone with my thoughts and my music-- wasn't really feeling like I needed much else.

It is now 6:40 PM, and I have an appointment with Nina at 7:00, the Thai masseuse who my friend Steve met while in Phuket. She noticed that my balance is off and was kind enough to offer me free massages until she returns home in a month or so. Although I am obviously about to go, I am nervous because she had said to me, "It will be very painful, because your pain is so deep. China, Japan, Korea massage all same. Thai massage different. Why? Because we heal." I trust her, but I am not looking forward to hurting. I will keep you posted.

Update: 9:27 p.m.
I am now back at my apartment after some serious work being done on my back. I don't feel much better yet, but I believe in the morning I will notice a difference. My Korean friend Duk is taking me to the doctor tomorrow to get my back x-rayed, in hopes that they will tell me exactly what is wrong and how I can fix it. I need to dedicate myself to a doctor, because if this imbalance keeps up, I will eventually be walking with my waist up being completely horizontal. I am sure of it. I am too young to have these kinds of problems and it is a complete nuisannce to feel decrepid when I am only 23. [insert expletives here]. Ugh.

One last thing.

Mom:

Good Evening, Nito and/or Good Morning, Granito.

I'd like to dedicate this post to my one and only partner in secondary English education crime, Ms. Kelly Granito; a poetic warrior, a fierce educator, and a voice of daily reason. As is the case with most people from home, when I talk to Kelly, if it is her morning it is my evening, and vice versa. Hence the title.

Kelly and I met during our sophomore year at Western. I found myself at her apartment one night, and per the usual small talk (What year are you? Where are you from? What's your major/minor?), we realized we were both studying exactly the same thing. There is something to be said for people you meet while in college; there is an automatic connection because you will inevitably have something in common with them. We, they, are a dime a dozen. But to meet someone who is spending their time writing the same papers, having the same discussions and thought processes as you are, it takes your friendship to an entirely different level. As is the case with Kelly and I.

Over the course of the last three years, we have spent hours upon hours chatting about everything from relationships to Janet's essays, to Obama and Dr. Dre, and of course, anything correlating with education-- which most things do. We took four baccalaureate classes together our senior year: Topics in Literature; Popular Culture, Teaching Literature in Secondary Schools, Studies in Verse, and Teaching Students with Special Needs in the Secondary Classroom, aka the worst class either of us have ever taken. Seriously, the WORST CLASS ever. Which is saying a lot, being that it was a 4 credit class and you need at least 122 credits to graduate. That means that out of about 36 classes, this one was the worst. That takes some serious [lack of] effort. Nito and I would just sit there, for three hours a week, wondering how the hell a high school educator was getting paid to teach an upper-level education course to college students. F that. Seriously. It still pisses me off that it was such a waste of our time.

So on top of having taken these classes together, Nito and I were also given the Adolescent Literature Award, recommended to us by two of our favorite professors, Dr. Webb and Dr. Nash. One of the reasons we had initially bonded was because we had both had Dr. Nash for Adolescent Literature. She was one of those professors who, to put it quite simply, shook shit up. Some of the best discussions I ever had were in her classes, and she was such an inspiration as a professor that I took three of them in total. Nito and I had both taken the Adolescent Lit class at different times, but had both read the same book she had assigned, The Diary of a Teenage Girl. When we then took Teaching Literature in Secondary Schools with Dr. Webb, for our final project, we grouped together with three other girls to create a teaching unit based around the theme of literature and sexuality (if you click this link, you will be taken to the website we made for the project; still really, really proud of it). Because Kelly and I had interwoven a novel we were taught in Dr. Nash's Adolescent Lit class, and then used it as our base text for our final project in Dr. Webb's class, the two professors decided we should be given the Adolescent Literature Award. And there you have it. Super sweet. Kelly is someone who, whether she knows this or not, had always challenged me in the classes we took together. She almost always got higher grades than me on papers (for every 92% I got, she got a 96%). She made me want to work harder. Being given an award with her from two established professors was, to me, a highlight of my college career.

Then there was last summer. Kelly and I went to Rothbury, Michigan's first festival, with six other friends. I could wax poetic about my time there... the 36 hours of non-stop dancing, watching The Wailers, 311, and Dave Matthews all in one day, the conversations, the people... but, I won't. Suffice it to say it was one of the best times of my life.

Us on Saturday at Rothbury. Dirty and slightly intoxicated, in the middle of swaying to Michael Franti, and about 3 hours until Dave Matthews.

So, Nito, here's to you; to the time we've spent together, to academia, and to the many, many hours I am sure we will spend chatting daily/nightly about the men and women in our lives. You are the shit. I love you!

Greenery, The Commune, and Some Parade

My favorite color has always been blue. I go between preferring dark blues over light blues sometimes. But in general, in my life, blue tends to be this defining part of me. I have a thing for blue eyes, which for whatever reason is reflected in the guys I've dated. Some of my clothes which hold the most meaning to me are blue. Blue jeans. Crystal Lake, the Atlantic, the sky, cerulean crayola crayons. Now that I've said that for no particular reason, I can get to one of my three topics for this post.

We have had a substantial amount of rain for the last seven days or so, which in turn has turned everything vibrantly green. It's really beautiful. Green comes in a close second to blue. I could wax poetic about both colors if I was so inclined. I have an affinity for trees and there are some really great ones in Korea. Not to mention the mountains being different shades of green.

The view from my apartment.

A block by my place.

Again


A tomb. Apparently the tree on the right, the biggest one, is where Koreans would hang themselves from during the Japanese invasion.

So my friend George and I grabbed some dinner tonight, and after we had finished, a parade loudly sha-banged it's way through the streets. My camera work is awful because I tend to forget that I need to hold it horizontally for videos to be seen properly. I only realized that about two thirds of the way into the video. But it's still pretty good I think...? You be the judge. We think it was a political parade of some sort. It was still SUPER funny though. I tend to not have a clue what's going on in Korea or why they do the things they do half of the time anyway, so then tonight when I've just finished eating, BAM. Parade at 8:00 at night. Double you tee eff.

I will update more videos later from The Commune later. :)

Update: 11:50 a.m. on Tuesday. I planned on getting a haircut this morning, but I woke up 1.5 hours later than I had planned. Shit. Oh well. Here is a video of a Korean cover band playing some Weezer, circa last Saturday at The Commune in Daegu. It was more than a pleasant surprise to stumble upon them!

Intrinsic Motivation...

There is none. One of the biggest challenges I have found from what minimal teaching experience I have had as an intern, is that it is borderline impossible to get students to do something because they really want to. It is always for a prize. Do the work, get the grades. It is completely extrinsic.

What is even more difficult and frustrating is that when teaching students ESL, the entire system is based off of reward. Because there is such an impeding language barrier, the reward system has to be broken down to the most elementary level. If you are my student and your performance is excellent for that one class period in which I have you, I will give you 5 stamps ("lemons") in your stamp book, and whenever you decide to, you can cash in that stamp book for a prize. A CD, a coloring book, or, for the ones with the most self control, a portable DVD/TV/Internet device. If your behavior is bad or if you act out in my class, I am supposed to give you anywhere between 0-4 stamps for the day. So how am I supposed to teach my students to care about something when they get points based on good behavior? I know this system is implemented in thousands of schools internationally, but it's so defeating when you know that they're only doing it so that at the end of the day, they can take home some free music. And what about the kids who don't even care about the stamps? It's not like I can call their parents and tell them that their child needs to put more effort into their English education. I am consistently reminded of my lack of control as an ESL teacher. The most I can do is send a student out in the hall if they don't do their homework, so that they can then copy their homework from a friend whilst sitting in the office, undoubtedly enjoying their time more outside of class than they would inside of it anyway.

I wanted to become a teacher because I wanted to have the ability to motivate my students to want to learn. Simple enough. I can do that with students whose first language is English. I have not been able to strike a chord or ignite any sort of affinity for education doing what I am doing now. There is a reason I spent my time getting a degree in secondary education rather than elementary education. As cute as my kids are, I want to be able to hold a real conversation with them rather than spend half of my class singing heads, shoulders, knees and toes. I want to be able to relate to them and joke with them and get them to love knowledge and the pursuit of having an active mind.

Le sigh. Some day.

There are some things pure, while certain things blur.

I whole heartedly love Sundays. And for me and many of my friends, Sundays slowly bleed into Mondays because no one has to be at work until 1:00 or so. It always makes for an extremely relaxing end of the weekend when you don't have to be up for the typical 9-5.

Weather wise, this past week has been gorgeous; high 60s/low 70s, and it looks as though it's going to stay like that for the weeks to come. It is long skirt and t-shirt weather. It is sitting-in-Wonsong Park-with-friends-playing-guitar-in-front-of-a-historic-site weather.

Per the request of a certain friendsies, while walking towards the small tomb to meet some friends for lunch yesterday I pulled out my camera and gave a quick tour of some of the surrounding area which I live. It is completely windy in the video so I do apologize in advance. It cuts off for some reason in the first video, and then picks back up again in the second.

I have loads of other pictures I want to share, but I don't want to take up my entire blog with a random compilation of them. So I think what I am going to do is just show the best ones from various nights. The thought of making a photo album account stresses me out! So anyway, here are a few from the past couple weeks. :)

Bulguksa.

For thousands of Asians, the swastika still holds its' original meaning, which was of wealth, good fortune, and for Koreans, protection. Shame it means to us what it does.

I went to Bulguksa two weekends ago when it was still cold, and before the cherry blossoms had fully bloomed. It was really cool going with my boss and my coworker, but I need to go back now that it's warm outside and the trees are greener.

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Climbing cherry blossom trees. Photo credit: Diane Hall.

Photo credit: Diane Hall

Some women!

Mmm alright. That is enough photo uploading for one blog. Next weekend is the Traditional Korean Wine and Rice Cake Festival here in Gyeongju, also known as the Soju Festival. There will be people coming from all over Korea to be a part of it, which is awesome for us who live here because friends of friends will be visiting. More people to meet. There will be tents and tents of Koreans giving out free Soju samples. I will also have the opportunity to make my own. Can't wait to tell you about it! :)