368 Days in Seoul

Golf in Korea

It's over. I leave Korea on Wednesday morning. The new teacher has arrived and moved in. He has completely taken over my classes and the kids are excited that he has curly hair. He has successfully reminded me that I never again want to have roommates. He has cluttered my kitchen and stomped through my apartment with his shoes on. He's a good guy- I've just become particular. I have four different pairs of slippers in my apartment, all for different spaces. This time I can honestly say that it's not him, it's me. He's proven himself perfect for the job- laid back and unconcerned with all the little things that drove me crazy about my school.

Book vending machine- 2,000 won each (2$)

I just experienced my last week-end in Seoul- mostly calm and relaxed. I went for dinner with Song in Gangnam (or the world's plastic surgery capital) last night, hoping to find billboards encouraging me to have my face redone. Part of me hoped to be dragged off the street by some doctor pleading with me to allow him to perform the dreaded calf-reduction surgery. I hoped to leave Gangnam with stories of the craziness of the plastic surgery explosion. But alas, it was free of unsolicited offers of plastic surgery. We were, however, surrounded by Louis Vitton and Gucci stores. I tried to count the designer purses for awhile, but lost track and gave up. We had Vietnamese food and then indulged in four dollar ice cream. I had to get something obscenely expensive there. After dinner, we hopped on a bus to Hungdae to meet Simona for drinks. The night was largely uneventful- just a casual night out with Song and Simona. It was exactly what I wanted for my last week-end here. I didn't want a ridiculous drunken crawl through the streets that I would regret in the morning, and in years to come look back on my last days in Seoul and kick myself for having spent them recovering from a hang over. It seems Song wasn't ready to say good-bye, as she ducked out early declaring that she was too drunk. A terrible lie when I know full well that she can drink me under the table. We made tentative plans to meet the following day, but it never came to pass. It seems we avoided out tearful good-bye simply y not having one. I know that we'll see each other again because neither of us have finished traveling. In fact, we've barely started. It's just sad that after six months of spending nearly every week-end together, it's come to an end. Just like that. I hate good-byes. When I left Calgary, I learned that you keep in touch with those most important to you and even some you never expected to. But it's harder when you can't see ahead to the next time you'll sit together face-to-face and have a beer. As the stretches between my visits to Calgary grow longer and longer and the visits themselves become shorter, I lose touch with more and more people every year. But that's okay. We have alot of people in our lives who are just 'filler'. People that we don't have a particularly strong connection with, but they're okay to go for drinks with. I've lost touch with all of my filler friends in Calgary. Distance and circumstances have cut the list of people I call when I arrive in town- and of course, it's nothing personal. There are still alot of friends in Calgary that I suspect will be in my life for years to come. But I wonder how many of those relationships only stay alive because of my annual drop-ins. The unspoken promise that I'll pop in to say hi once a year. I hope that Song and I are up to the challenge. That we'll last through the separation until the next time we meet, because I know that there will be a next time- whether it's in Canada, Korea, or some random country in between.

Turtles for dinner?

I've reached the end of a year and the end of my Korea rants, it would seem. Amazingly, I've run out of things to say. That's not exactly true, I suppose. Were I to stay another year or two, I know that I would have just as many rants in me as this year. But my Korean experience has come to an end and I'm looking forward to the next phase. On Wednesday, I leave to run about in Thailand and Laos for two weeks before returning to Canada. The next month will find me running here, there and everywhere. I may or may not update everybody next week on my travels - I suspect that Internet access will be hard to come by in Laos, but plentiful in Thailand. I'll continue to post for as long as I have things to say- and I'm sure you'll find my rants about my first few weeks back throughly entertaining... For those of you in Calgary, I'll see you for my annual stop-in on November 16th - where you hopefully won't feel like tossing me back on the plane as you experience the brunt of my culture shock. Beware that I will probably complain about the cold and how expensive everything is. I may embarass you by trying to barter at 7-11, Moxie's or even KFC. And I'll definitely be speaking a version of English that has come to be recognized as "Konglish". I'll be speaking painfully slowly and doubtlessly making big x's with my arms when I say no. You can't say you haven't been warned. I will expect the undivided attention of everyone in sight for no particular reason. I may become irritable if some random person doesn't tell me I'm beautiful at least once a day. I might take my shoes off in restaurants and try to sit on the floor. I may insist that the server help me put my shoes back on, and then offer him no tip anyway. I will doubtlessly bowl people over in the street in a race to get there first. I apologize in advance to any old ladies who might be knocked to the ground. Ajimma, as they're called here, are a force to be reckoned with.

So the sadness and reluctance to leave have mostly passed and I'm ready to go. After all the ups and downs this year- the excitement, shock, frustrations and occasional anger- I come to an end of my time here, but I look forward to my next visit to Korea. Somehow it'll always be a home away from home. I'll be curious to come back in five, ten, even twenty years and see how much Korea has changed- because as much as I've enjoyed living here this year- this culture is also verging on some immensely exciting changes. It will be a very different place next time I'm here, for change is in the air. My final count of women smoking in the street rests around. I suspect next time I'm here, there'll be many more. If there isn't, it will be because Koreans have finally realized that their healthy food is no match for the amount of cigarettes and soju consumed here. Kimchee might battle some illnesses, but I suspect lung cancer isn't one of them.

Confessions of a Scattered Mind

• I was never the kid who won colouring contests. I always wanted the prize, but I just couldn't take it seriously. Couldn't focus on the task long enough to care. Couldn't color inside the lines- because I've always had a problem with authority (as my parents, my high school drama teacher, or any number of my co-workers and supervisors will tell you- experiment- take a poll). It has even been suggested on numerous occasions, in a-not-so subtle fashion, that I may benefit from some time in the military. To cure me, of course, of this problem with authority. The lines on those damn colouring sheets stood for something. They were borders- boundaries, not to be crossed- an instruction manual to a young child. A rule book for those too young to read. And don't even get me started on colour by number. As a follow up to my observations about the creative habits of Koreans, I experimented this week with what I have termed 'subversive colouring'. Yes, that's right. Subversive colouring. I passed out Cinderella colouring sheets to my Sr. Baby Class (my four year olds) - with pictures of those cute mice, Gus-Gus and good old what's his name. Now wait- hold that thought (the thought was Gus-Gus)- I should probably explain that if I am the most popular teacher at school, it is for three reasons (none of which have anything to do with my teaching abilities):

  Reason 1: I am still the only blond, blue eyed teacher. If I run out of things for the class to do, I can't go wrong with letting them play with my hair. And in fact they spend more time staring at the odd colour of my hair and eyes than they do their books- so I guess this is a full class in itself.

  Reason 2: I am the only teacher at the school who did not study education, and in fact did a theater degree, making me much more prone to stupidities in class time. Which of course, results in less actual study time. Crucial to the survival of the four year old mind.

  Reason 3: I inherited the previous teacher's super-pack of colouring pencils when he left. It comes complete with sparkly pencil crayons. And that's why they love me.

  Anyways, stop distracting me- you're as bad as the kids. So, I pass out these colouring sheets and I sit down with the kids to colour. And of course, the moment the super-pack of pencil crayons are on the table- they're fighting over the brown- because, as we all know- mice are brown. I drew great attention to my colouring by making a big production out of choosing a different colour for each part of the mouse's body (avoiding all blacks, browns and greys) and in the end it looked more like a patchwork quilt than a mouse from a Disney movie. They hated it. I thought I was going to lose an eye- they were very upset with me, insisting that mice were only one colour. Even when I told them that my mouse wanted to be twelve colours. Screw English class- I'm on a mission. If I teach these kids nothing but subversive colouring and covering their mouths when they cough, I'll be happy. I have eight months left. Is this possible? Perhaps ambitious- but I'm confident it can be done. I'll keep you updated. Oh- wait, and summersaults- they love summersaults.

  Last night I found myself at the Canadian bar in Little America to say good bye to my friend Michelle, who will be leaving for Newfoundland soon. We were about ten people- six Canadians, three Koreans and one American. The Korean girls began questioning me as to my impressions of Korea, and the more I talked, the more questions they had. The cultural differences never cease to amaze me. It took me awhile but I finally realized that not only have I seen only two Koreans with facial piercings, but I have not seen anyone with crazily dyed hair. No tattoos. One of the Korean girls asked my friend Glen why he had his ears pierced- and he quickly informed them that he had taken out seven of his ear piercings when he came to Korea, but chose to hold on to the remaining two. They looked appalled, confused. We tried to explain that this was normal in Canada- I told them that I had had my eyebrow, tongue and belly button pierced at one point. But the poor girls looked like they were going to pass out, so we stopped the body piercing discussion and moved on to tattoos. Tattoos are illegal in Korea. Not actually having them, but to sell the service is illegal. Last summer, apparently- one of the parents at Glen's school had shown up to parent day in a tank top (it was forty degrees outside)- and the tank top revealed that he had a large tattoo of a dragon on his back. Glen's boss came running over- instructing the staff not to speak to this man, as he was a criminal. He leaned over to Glen and whispered,"He sells DVDs at Youngsan". The criminal did not deal drugs, did not make his living stealing or through any horrific acts of violence. No, he is one of thousands of vendors in the city who blatantly disregard copyright laws and sell bootlegged DVDs on the street. Hardly criminal activity, in my opinion, as these booths are blatantly set up on nearly every street corner... As the hockey game started on the screen behind them, the two girls turned their backs to it and declared that they hated sports. And so began our next discussion- leaving them to question the femininity of any woman who would choose to spend her time playing soccer, instead of shopping. They seemed more horrified that I used to play soccer and basketball than by tales of Canadian body piercings. As I finished my poutine (with mozarella cheese, not squeaky Lac-St-Jean curds), a plate of nachos appeared on the table. The Korean girls asked if I would have any, but I said no- having just polished off a massive poutine. They smiled knowingly and said, "Ah, you're on a diet- aren't you?". There is something seriously wrong with this country when Koreans keep telling me that I need to lose weight. I realize that it has been four months since I've seen all of you- but I assure you, I have lost a few pounds at the gym- not gained any. I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. I just can't get over the absurdity of these questions. One of the girls replied, "Oh, I guess in Canada, you're average." When the plane landed at the airport, and I first stepped onto Korean soil, I had no idea that I was entering the land of 110lb fatties. Given that they had come just short of saying straight out that I needed to 'lose a few pounds', I was shocked by their next question; "Is it true, that Montreal has the world's most beautiful women?". It seems the reputation stretches far and wide. So what's the deal? If I am the average size for a Canadian woman- and they consider me fat- do they believe it possible for the most beautiful women in the world living in this 'land o' fatties? Despite my fears that there are some serious issues with female body image in this country, I find their honesty refreshing. In Canada, we steer clear of comments about someone's appearance, unless we know them well. Even then comments will be tentative and carefully worded. Koreans will be blatantly honest with you- and are just as likely to say that you're beautiful as they are that you're fat. And they acknowledge that you can be 'fat' and be beautiful, or thin and ugly- relationships that we seem to have trouble with in Canada...

  I have begun to think about the environment in which these kids will grow up. Their personalities, their strengths and their weaknesses are beginning to take shape. And I struggle to remember what I was like at that age. Being that I don't remember the end of the movie I watched last night, I have difficulty remembering what I was like at the age of five, which I was shocked to discover, was 20 years ago. As far as I know, I was exactly the same, just slightly shorter. And I do mean slightly. As I watched my boss's son the other day, it occured to me that he could be an amazing dancer. At the age of four, he already shows incredible rhythm. I wonder- did my teachers predict a particular career path for me? Did it come to pass, or did I take a different route? If we were to meet on the street today- would my kindergarten teacher feel a sense of satisfaction- having predicted what sort of person I would turn out to be? I ran into my grade seven homeroom teacher, M Dreyfuss, in Dorval airport last year. It had been ten years since I last saw him- but he recognized me, and strangely enough- didn't seem at all surprised to run into me on the opposite side of the country. Perhaps my teachers always knew that I would take advantage of my years in French school and move to Montreal. My years at Concordia proved to be, for many reasons, some of the most difficult years of my life. And now, having taken a giant step away from the situation, I seem to be able to see myself more clearly. For those who do not reflect on themselves, theatre school can open the door to an inflated ego. And to those who are prone to reflection- well, it seems you begin to do so even more. At nauseum. After spending four years in theatre school beating up on myself mentally- because not only do I over-analyse, but I'm also a perfectionist... not a good combination. I suspect, or have begun to suspect as of recently, that I am far too modest for my own good. Or perhaps it's not modesty- maybe I've finally recognized that I am impossibly hard on myself. I am very aware of my weaknesses- and yes, it seems others are as well, since they seem to feel the need to share their observations with me (and to those of you who have done so- well, thanks but I already know, please keep it to yourselves). But as people, as a society, we so often focus on the negative that we fail to see the positive. In ourselves and in others. To the point where we begin to lie to ourselves and to others. I am very quick to say that I am mathmatically incompetent- quick to make jokes about my naivete when it comes to the sciences, or these things we call computers. But I have difficulty admitting- as many of us do- that I also have strengths. Or I fail to see them as such, and toss them aside saying "Oh, but anyone can do that." In an age of mediocrity, are we afraid of succeeding? Am I? Of following what we know we're good at? Of committing? To commit to something is to take a risk. It's a lot harder to succeed if you don't commit, but if you fail- it hurts a lot less. I've always had commitment problems- I can commit to things that have little risk involved. Or little risk for me. But few things in life have little risk- or at least, few things worth having. And so here I am, determined to move past these commitment problems and begin to make them. My mother has always told me that she was first in her class in all subjects- all the time (and holds to this despite concrete evidence that there were some serious problems in the math - and by concrete I mean old report cards- my mother doesn't throw anything away). Maybe there are still things I can learn from my mother. If we shape the image people hold of us, why do we so often focus on the negative, if what we really want them to see is the positive? Year after year, Oma (my grandmother on my father's side) would lecture my father at report card time about his marks, and always insisted that he was capable of more, as she had always been in the top three students in her class (it was later revealed there were only three students in her class). Regardless of the fact or fiction behind these tales- the fact that they were recounted tells more about these two influential women than the (debatable) truth. They painted a picture for us to see. Though I did not know her well, all the stories of Oma point to the conclusion that she was waiting for her tale to be uncovered. For Oma, it seemed, was her second nickname- falling second to 'The Brat'. There is no doubt that by my mother and grandmother are intelligent people. And they've taught me something. To balance out years of dishonesty with myself, in being too hard on myself, I'm swinging the other way. I should be indulging in this trait that has been passed down through both sides of my family- from one generation to another. I have inherited this trait- this storytelling trait and I should take full advantage. Our family doctors insist on knowing every detail of our family past - our histories of cancer, diabetes, pneumonia, arthritis, epilepsy, drug addictions, alcoholism... the list goes on and on. Are we ever asked about the positive attributes that run in the family? Has anyone ever asked you if members of your family exhibit stubborness (this is positive, in my opinion), or determination? Indepedance or intelligence? Musical or athletic abilities? Not likely. Or at least, no one's ever asked me. Always questions about our medical history- and be careful, by the way- if you choose to skip the chit chat and answer - "Oh no, Doctor- no history of illnesses of any kind." Because if you forget the next time you're in, and happen to mention that you have diabetes in the family, or cancer- you'll find a certain impatience in your doctor, as she feels shocked and betrayed by your lies. Not that I speak from particular personal experience. My doctor no doubt has charts drawn up in an attempt to predict which hereditary illness will claim me first. Psychologists want to know about all the emotions that have been passed down to you from your parents, and grandparents and great-grandparents. And they don't want to hear of the positive ones. Positive emotions don't make for very good business. If I have to be reminded of all the unfortunate things that have been passed down to me by my ancestors, why can't I relish in the good things as well? And so, from this day forth, I choose to see myself with delusions of grandeur. At least for now. Unhealthy? Call it what you want. It's no less healthy than refusing to look at your own strenths. And exaggerated stories also make for better stories. Now if I could only remember the realities of my childhood, I would begin to elaborate and exaggerate these stories... but with my memory, it appears I'll just have to begin re-writing these stories altogether.

I'm Just A Girl

Hello & Happy New Year Everyone!

I hope everyone had a good drunken New Year's- wherever you are in the world. Mine was pretty quiet- and despite my best efforts to get smashed- I didn't come anywhere near it. I think I've learned that Korean beer is far weaker than Canadian beer, so I'll be switching back to the Vodka. And I learned that Newfoundland's proud reputation of having the country's biggest drinkers- is nothing more than a rumor more than likely started by a Newfoundlander smashed after one shot of Screech. I think a Montrealer with a weak stomach could drink a Newfoundlander under the table any day...

In any case, we made plans to head down to the Canadian bar for New Year's in Itaewon (or Little America)- but then as we were getting ready to go out, we came to the realization that in Little America we would be met by the entire Seoul chapter of the American Military... so we just went to an out of the way pub- about as far as we could get from where we knew the Americans would be. The sign outside indicated it was a Western Bar- which in Korea does not mean cowboy bar, but means they play English music. And as promised we walked in and the walls were plastered with posters of Brit bands. The bar was nearly empty. At five minutes to midnight- the three of us looked around, wondering why there wasn't a TV on or something- no count down to be heard. At midnight the bartendar came over- said Happy New Year and Last Call. So we ordered every drink in the menu with the word 'sexy' in it- (love, sexy and happy seem to be the most used English words here, but no one really knows how to use them... the other day I purchased sexy hand cream from a dollar store- that also carried sexy shampoo and conditioner...) and then went home, continuing to drink there. Now as far as drinking laws go- I know Montrealers are very proud that we can buy beer and wine at the deps or at grocery stores- and you can always find those places to sell them to you after hours... if you're willing to pay twice the price. Well Montreal's got nothing on Korea. Scotch, whiskey and soju (Korean sweet potato vodka) is sold at deps and grocery stores. Grocery stores not only carry hard alcohol, but will pass out 'samples' (or shots as we call them in Canada) to shoppers as they pass by- presumably to make their shopping experience more pleasant, but more than likely to impair your judgement so you spend more money. And we walked right into the dep at 4am (when we ran out of beer at home), picked up some more, and kept right on drinking. Take that, Montreal! I got home- sober- at 5am, leaving the Newfoundlanders behind, completely trashed.

We've started planning for the year end show at school... which I assumed was a play, since my boss asked me to direct it after discovering my degree was in theatre. As it turns out, it's a song and dance show- and he, like so many others- lumps this all into one category and says it's all the same. In any case, I am directing two classes of kids (one of four year olds, and the other five year olds) in separate song and dance routines (my requests to do a play were dismissed... god forbid the kids actually use the English they were taught...). The deadline to have our song choices was Friday. And I stressed and stressed. I didn't want to do some boring ass- "If you're happy and you know it" song, or Row, row, row your boat. And so I went home and listened to my cds determined to find something. For a moment I was tempted to be subversive and choose Last Dance with Mary Jane, but decided it was too complicated for the kids. And I seriously thought about doing I'm Just A Girl - the lyrics of which would be dangerously provocative in a country where women 'know their place'... but I decided again, this would be too hard for the kids. Finally I settled on Bjork's It's Oh So Quiet- this way the parents are happy cause the kids get to dress up and look all pretty and act all sweet, and the kids are happy cause they get to act all sweet, and then go crazy... and I'm happy cause I don't have to listen to Wheels On The Bus again....

Apart from New Year's this week was pretty uneventful... I got back into the gym, which was good. My trainer Lee (who calls me Uma Thurman- I'm not sure if he's trying to say all blonds look the same, or he's trying to say that I'm getting stronger- in any case...), is happy to report that my arms are actually getting some definition and he insists that I've lost five pounds... although he was a little frustrated that I refused to weigh myself, as I think that women are too obsessed with the number they see on the scale. I am proud to say I have not weighed myself in over seven years- I'm not about to start now.

To make up for a very quiet New Year's, my friends Glen, Michelle and I headed to the Canadian bar. We quickly made friends with a girl from New Zealand, who was ditched by her friends who were in search of American Military boys... In true Canadian style, we were soon joined by three other Canadian boys. Glen and Michelle - my Newfoundland friends with no alcohol tolerance left early because they were drunk, but I was having fun, so I stayed for awhile. And here is where I had my first real scare in Korea- I left the bar with the New Zealander and she walked with me to the bank machine across the street so I could get money out for a cab home. And the guichet just refused to spit any money out at me- finally the girl tells me that bank machines in Korea close at 10pm. The machine is there- I can touch it, I can put my card in- but I cannot get any money out after 10pm. Knowing full well it's a 20$ cab ride home- and I wouldn't even begin to know what direction to start walking... just as I started freaking out, the girl handed me 20$ and gave me her phone number so we can hang out/I can pay her back. I guess that'll teach me to try and budget myself when I'm going out... And I had my first travel experience where I was really screwed and someone bailed me out.

Along the same lines of Korean oddities - despite all their technology, and their obsession with it, interac does not exist here. And many stores will take only Samsung credit cards. Talk about a monopoly that controls the people. Samsung not only makes Tvs, dvd players, cell phones and other technological gadgets- they also make cars, weights and barbells, yoga mats, they own apartment buildings and malls. They run insurance companies and also have their own credit card company- and of course, their stores take only their credit cards. Despite my experience working for Samsung US, I'm told that in Korea- Samsung in known for their customer service. I've even been told tales of the service reps fixing other appliances (not Samsung) in the house while on service calls. And the service reps carry bags of fresh, clean socks in their cars, so they don't track dirt from one apartment floor to another. This however, doesn't change the fact that Samsung is evil. But the reality is that the entire country of Korea is run by four massive companies- and they're all just as bad; there's LG and Hyundai (Hyundai owns Daewoo and has a chain of gas stations) and Lotte which makes all the processed foods and cleaning products in the country, has a fast food chain and an amusement park. I suppose Canada and the US are probably just as bad- but here people know about it- I guess that's the difference.

The Devil in McDonald's

I've had alot of bad roomates. Are we all in agreement here? That I've made some questionable roomate choices? From sleazy ex-boyfriends, to anal gay men (Greg & Gerald), to sleazy actors (Rageful Scott), to fourteen year old high school drop-outs (thanks to sleazy ex-boyfriend), to boyfriends of close friends (Syd) to co-workers I already spend all my time with (Caycee, Greg, Stuart, Rob...), to crazy directors that stalk and threaten to sue me to crazy directors that live in the same building as psychotic ex-girlfriends (Ross)... to name a few. Well, arriving in Korea I was introduced to the absolute worst roomates I've ever had - an apartment full of cockroaches. And so the movers arrived on boxing day to rescue me from my impossible roomates. At least my other bad roomates cooked for me- or were otherwise entertaining- keeping me awake at all hours of the night shaking the house, or yelling at doorknobs, or some such nonsense. During my move to my new apartment- or heaven, as I shall call it from here on in- I learned a very important, very valuable lesson about Korean culture. Korean men will always tell a woman that they understand even when they don't. Some may say this is not so different from Canadian men, well I beg to differ. After two months of telling my boss that I could not live in my apartment because of the cockroaches and having him nodding at me, (complete with blank stare in his eyes) and repeating "hmmm, yes I understand," I discovered that he did not, in fact, understand. To begin with, the movers watched, appalled, as I carried boxes and bags to the truck while they were busy with the furniture (Korean women are not supposed to lift things since they're so delicate and 'weak'), and I watched, appalled, as my boss attempted to help with the furniture, but shook under the weight of anything he lifted. In any case, they moved the fridge from the apartment- my boss shaking more than the sixty year old mover, and god knows I couldn't help (being weak and all) - so I watched- trying not to laugh, as three grown men, determined not to ask for my help- stuggled to lift the fridge into the truck. Behind the fridge, I discovered the home of my roomates, the cockroaches. There were many, may cockroaches where the fridge had been, and my first impulse was to crush them (I am crushing your head!! Crush, crush, crush, crush...)- but then I thought, no, I want my boss to understand why I was insisting on a new apartment, so that he sees that I'm not just a spoiled princess. So for a moment, I spared the lives of my tiny roomates and waited for my boss to emerge, sweating and shaking from his last journey to the truck. He walked into the apartment -and I can say I have never seen such a look of disgust in my life. He stood at the doorway pointing at them, and staring at me in disbelief. I nodded and said "Cockroaches," at which point realizing that through all my talks with him about the state of the apartment, my boss had never once asked what a cockroach was or implied he did know. He had simply nodded and said "hmm, yes, I understand," - which clearly, he did not. After going on a murderous rampage, leaving my roomates scattered about the apartment- my boss whisked me away to the new apartment... ahhh, heaven.

And so I've spent much of this week cleaning and organizing the new apartment and don't have a whole lot to report from the outside world. Christmas day I spent with my friends Glen and Michelle- who cooked an excellent Christmas dinner, especially given the fact that English teachers here are rarely provided with ovens, so we have only stove tops. Somehow Michelle managed- with two burners, to boil a chicken (which I didn't know you could do) - make potatoes, turnips, carrots and stuffing. I was impressed- it tasted just like home. And then we watched bad American TV- and I have an unfortunate confession to make- I am addicted to the On Style network. Of my four channels, it is the only one that does not subject me to American political propaganda or bad Schwartzeneger (how the hell do you spell that???) films- which I guess can also fall into the political propaganda category now. Sex and the City from Season One, right on through to the end, America's Next Top Model (totally addicted) and the Bachelorette - oh dear god, someone help me!! Out of exhaustion and complete boredom, I'm resorting to reality TV!!!

And my vacation has also included a few trips to the gym - although far less than I would have liked. Having spent more than three days cleaning my new apartment, I decided to forego the gym this week and have only been twice. And did I ever learn my lesson. I was out and about the other day- I went on a tour of a prison used during the Japanese invasion (cost -1,50$ - complete with personal tour guide). After this two hour history lesson, I needed to lull my brain- and so I headed to the gym. Now the only quick place to eat near the gym where you can actually sit down, and not eat standing at the counter is McDonalds'. And of course, I am aware that it is fairly redundant to eat McDonalds' before going to the gym. But I did anyway. And then found my way to the internet place a few floors below the gym to rest my stomach before my work-out. For some odd reason, this ten floor office building, with restaurants, bars, daycares and a school on each floor- has only one elevator. It is a mystery I cannot explain. So I waited ten minutes for the elevator to go from the fourth to the tenth floor (where else would the gym be, but the top floor)- and when it finally came, the doors opened and it looked like the subway at any time of day. People were pushed up against the walls, packed in so tightly, I wondered how any of them would leave knowing that the arms attached to their torso were in fact their own. But there was a small space at the front of the elevator and I squeezed my way in. And just as I stepped into the elevator- a loud beeping noise, almost like a siren- thundered through the elevator and the fourth floor hallway- and on came a message in Korean- I assumed, telling the fatty who'd put the elevator overweight, to please step out before the whole thing went crashing down to the basement. And with a look of horror on my face, I stepped out of the elevator and back into the hallway. Whether it was the look of shock and horror on my face, or the elevator calling the white girl fat- the hundred or so Koreans in the elevator, erupted in laughter as the door snapped shut in my face. And I took the stairs up to the gym, determined that this was God's way of laughing at me (or punishing me) for eating at McDonald's before going to the gym.

Some of you may remember my rant from a few weeks back about being 'old' in Korea- well, now we know that Korea's also calling me fat. So there we go- this trip that I've taken across the world, in hopes of returning with eyes open to another culture and another way of life- is using this opportunity to insult me again and again. Tonight is New Year's Eve- and aside from that meaning that there will much alcohol ingested throughout the world- it also means that I am quickly approaching my 27th Birthday, as far as Koreans are concerned... for those of you who believe my birthday to be August 25th- you'll be happy to know that for your convenience, a second birthday has been added on January 29th - Lunar New Year.

And in other news- the Korean telephone company is far more efficient than any Canadian company. My telephone number has remained the same as in my old apartment. It should also be noted that my boss called for the line to be disconnected while we were moving from one apartment to the other- and the man from the phone company arrived at the new apartment to set up the phone before all the furniture was loaded into the apartment. Less than half an hour & on Boxing Day at that! And finally, I have posted more photos on my flickr site, so you can follow the link to see the new ones... The theme is Korean Oddities...

Getting more comfortable...

• Merry Christmas Everyone!

  I hope this posting finds you amidst much snow and Christmas carols...

  Although I am still having trouble believing it never snows in Korea (it has snowed three times since I've been here, and that- as far as I can see- is three times more than never)- I have to admit that it looks as though it will be a brown Christmas for us. Don't worry- it's still cold... well, -5, maybe not that cold. It's been strange to hear familiar Christmas carols sung with Korean lyrics- and an even stranger experience with the drunken Santa Claus we took the kids to see. Alright maybe not drunk- but I'm sure Santa was hung over sincehe refused to take off his sunglasses- and he was no healthy North American Santa Claus, let me tell you. Poor Santa was so skinny all the kids said they would have to leave him milk and cookies as he's lost too much weight since last year...

  For Christmas, what am I doing? Well, to begin with I will be having a big Christmas dinner with some Canadian friends of mine, so fear not- I will not be alone- although this year it seems strangely appealing. The most exciting part of my Christmas vacation will be my move to a new apartment. Some of you sensed a bit of frustration in my emails- and I was trying not to give into it- but alas, I have been really cranky. The apartment I have lived in since I arrived is not one that I entered with a sigh of relief. I tentatively looked around and decided it would do- it was nothing fancy, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. And then I started to see cockroaches, and I thought- that's gross, but maybe it's normal here. So I checked with my Korean contacts at work and discovered that no, it was not normal and they all looked very disgusted and taken back. And then people who had seen the apartment before I moved started to look at me with pity in their eyes, asking how I was faring in the apartment... And then I saw the apartment that the couple lives in- and it was like night and day. Their apartment was big, fully furnished- new and clean. Mine was sparcely furnished, old and dirty. Holes in the walls are plugged with paper- which may explain how I still have moths in December. And I was mad, but didn't know how to raise the issue with my boss without sounding like a princess. Then my hot water stopped working, so I've been showering at the gym for over a month now. At any rate, two weeks into this apartment experience, I asked for a new apartment... and my boss didn't miss a beat. He said yes, of course and went about looking for a new one. Having said that, he would not have found one for me yet had I not insisted that I would not spend my Christmas vacation in my current apartment. So I'm appropriately moving on boxing day. The new apartment is ridiculous- I don't really understand- it's a 5 1/2 (two bedrooms for Calgarians) with a huge wrap around balcony and looks very new. I don't really understand since I barely have enough furniture in my current apartment, but here we are moving to a bigger place for little old me. That alright- I'm a big fan of big, empty spaces. So, that's the highlight of my Christmas- I suppose it pays to play the princess- next up on my list of demands- an air conditioner. In conclusion I apologize if I have sounded frustrated and cranky- all I've wanted is a hot shower in my very own bathroom...

  What's new in Korea this week? Well, I've discovered that Christmas is not celebrated here the same way at all... it seems it's the exact opposite of Canada. Koreans don't spend Christmas with their families at home around a big dinner, they go out with friends to the movies and to restaurants. So apparently I don't have to worry about nothing being open. Malls in the big shopping districts stay open for Christmas as well- and apparently many people do attend midnight mass. Christmas is also a lot less commercial here, which is refreshing. It struck me the other day how much we take for granted in Canada- how much of our own culture we don't appreciate. As I sat with the other Canadian teachers watching the kids playing on our fieldtrip the other day- all the kids from the other schools would stop and stare at us. The three of us and a tall black teacher from another school seemed to be the highlight of their fieldtrip. And it made me wonder, do we really appreciate our diversity as Canadians? When I think of the looks of curiosity, of terror and of excitement that I've gotten over the last two months- do we ever consider how unique it is that anyone can step into a big Canadian city and look Canadian? Another thing that sets Canada apart- which is slipping and we need to hold onto- are the social assistance programs. In Korea, they are non-existant. If you are old, sick or disabled, your family is expected to care for you- and if they don't, you take to begging on the subway or on the street. I started crying on the subway last week as I watched a young blind man having difficulty making it down the aisle on the subway, as his feet were turned inwards- begging, and sure to bow to each person who put change in his hat. It was so sad. You see these elderly women- and I mean pushing 85-90, still working- selling vegetables in the market and walking at a 90 degree angle... These extremes are rarely seen in Canada, but here they are the norm- I hope that in light of all our government saving, money hungry ventures, we don't lose sight of the fact that this can become a reality in Canada overnight.... what would happen if our friend Ralph Klein ran the country? Hmmm, I think I have an idea... On a happier note- I was getting off the subway the other day and there was a man playing the sax to a huge group of Koreans gathered around him. People had pulled up chairs and were intently listening. As I walked by, I realized that I had not seen any musicians in the subway until now. And it struck me that this is another of those things that is common in Canada (or at least in Montreal), but people rarely stop to listen. We are in much too big of a hurry to get home- and the sax player will be there tomorrow, after all. As I become more and more comfortable and friendly with the girls at work, I am learning more about the Canadian image from outside the country. And it's interesting- although sometimes, a little depressing. One teacher asked me this week if Canadians liked sports. I was a little weirded out, and told her that Canadians loved hockey. She answered that from our showings in the Olympics and at World Cup Events, it seemed that Canada didn't care at all about sports... except hockey, of course...

  In closing, just a reminder that since I'm moving on Boxing Day, only my cell phone number will be working for the time being. Merry Christmas & a la prochaine!

Stop Looking At Me!! I Am Not A Monkey!

Alright- this is ridiculous now. I feel like I'm in a damn zoo (or joo, as my kid's call it, they can't say z yet). I know I'm white and blond and blue eyed and stand out a little here, but for god sakes, there's enough white people it shouldn't be THAT weird. I went to Costco grocery shopping last week and was so frustrated by the time I left, it was unbelievable. It took me so long to shop because people kept stopping and staring. Children were pointing- and when I looked to their parents to explain to the child it's rude to point- or to tell them it's okay to wave back to me, well- I discovered the root of the problem. The parents themselves are pointing and staring at me. To make matters worse, we're at Costco, so I've got this enormous carts and can't manipulate the damn thing around all the staring, pointing parents. For some reason they are also very interested in what white people eat and kept blocking my way and staring into my cart. Maybe it's because I'm from Canada, and we're pretty diverse. I just don't understand it. In any event, any future grocery shopping will be done with sunglasses and baseball cap.

• Alright, that said- I suppose I should talk about my job since many people are asking. I didn't understand why friends of mine who taught English never talked about their jobs. Now I know- there's not a whole lot to say... It is by far the best job I've ever had- it pays well, time flies by, the kids are great and I actually feel like they're learning something. A far cry from my Montreal profession as 'waitress', the job is fulfilling. I teach eleven classes of kids- ranging in age from four to fifteen and I have no more than eight kids in any class. So the actual teaching varies alot. My four year olds didn't speak a word of English when I got here, and in fact, didn't understand that I didn't speak Korean. They thought I was being difficult by not responding when they talked to me. Now, a month and a half later- they're starting to talk a bit. They know Please and Thank You and Help Me. One of them told me to "Hold on a minute," the other day and I almost died. I hadn't heard a full sentence out of any of them before that. With that class, I read them the same story every day for a month. Eventually they start to understand and repeat some parts of it back to me and my head just wants to explode from reading Who Says Woof? twenty times in a month... My five year olds are the smartest kids I've ever met. They blow me away. It's amazing how much difference a year makes at that age. They all speak near perfect English and only have a slight accent. Although they do still say joo, instead of zoo... which is pretty funny. With that class, I whip through three books in a month and spend most of my forty minute classes trying to waste time cause they finish everything so fast. I have to admit that their my favorites, and of course being me, I find the girls too princessy (which they are) and the boys hilarious. I'm trying to curb my favoritism, but it's hard. Ryan (the cutest/smartest/hardest to handle) asked me the other day if I made my spaghetti in Canada. I explained to him- again- that I don't go back to Canada every night, I stay in Korea. And he looked at me and asked why I told him when I came that I 'live' in Canada, and not 'lived'... damn five years olds and their attention to grammar... As I mentioned before, I also teach them science class, origami (which is always interesting), arts and craft and gym. Origami usually means that I make eight butterflies, stars, baskets or what have you and pass them out and the kids get excited that 'they' made it. They love science class, but think that it's magic and refuse to listen when I try to explain why the experiment works. It's like telling a five year old there's no Santa Claus, they just won't believe it. And despite my best efforts, gym class with the four year olds is a gong show and I've given up teaching them. I give them a ball and let them go at it. So that's my day from 9am to 3pm. Then the afternoon kids come storming in and that's just completely different. They're mostly older and come either Monday/Wednesday/Friday or Tuesday/Thursday... and of course, with 3 hours of English a week and attending nine or ten other schools, they retain as much English as many Canadians do French. And this is where my problem classes lie. Because it's an (expensive) private school, parents want the sun, the moon and the stars. They wonder why little Billy can read and write English but can't speak. Well, because he doesn't talk in class, he just reads out loud and then class is done. My boss was very excited when I started and asked me to do role play with the kids to improve their spoken English, but said he still wanted me to get through the books in the normal time or parents would be mad. So, I don't do role play 'cause the last five minutes of class just isn't cutting it and there's no point. Classes mostly involved reading a short story and answering some simple questions about it. I recently discovered, however, that many of these kids are not even here to learn. They are there because it is fashionable to say that your children attend English school. Difficult to believe, but true. English school rates up there with Prada sunglasses, Louis Vitton purses and Burberry scarves in Korea. This also explains the non-sensical English we find everywhere. My deer-in-the-headlights kid, Paul has a pencil case (made by one of the largest Korean companies- in fact, made by the makers of Peppero) - that says "All I want to do is making love to you." I can only assume they meant something different...

  My boss is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and being an accountant... well, he's a little cheap. So things that make sense to the average person, such as turning the heat on when it gets below freezing- just don't occur to him. So, he spends the week chatting up parents at the school, trying to convince them that this is the best school for their child for the next school year, as teachers and students pass by the office wearing their winter jackets and huge furry slippers... Personally, if I were paying 600$ a month for my kid's kindergarten, I would be mad if the school tried to cheap out on heat. But maybe that's just me.

  All that said, it is a good job- sometimes frustrating, but in the end, I get paid regardless of why the kids are there, so it's not my problem. If anyone's thinking of teaching in Korea, let me know and I'll tell you what to watch out for. I've learned a lot about the way things work here over the last couple months, and would have negociated some things in my contract differently if I had known better. Basically, you just need to remember that they're desperate for teachers here, so you can pick and choose and play them against each other. Hope this helps, for anyone who's thinking about it...

  In closing, I have just received word from my computer-smart friend, Dave, that in fact you can reach my photos directly without signing into to flickr - so- the link is http://www.flickr.com/photos/14265677@N00/ . Sorry for any confusion- I am none too good with computers... Secondly, to those of you who have already accused me of only posting boring pictures, well I'm sorry muffin- I thought for a second that culture and history could be interesting- but I guess they're not. Just kidding. For my next posting, I promise to include funny English mistakes and pictures of all things Samsung.

Finally- some culture!

Allo, Allo!

I decided it may be easier for me to start an online journal than fill all of your email boxes with my non-sensical ramblings- this way you can't complain I was boring you to death- you came here of your own volition. For those who had trouble receiving previous ramblings, you'll find they're here as well, if you're at all interested.

Month 1 in Korea has officially come to an end, and here we are at the beginning of month number 2. I don't know if this is extremely drawn out jet lag, or if kids are in reality this tiring- but I have been quite a bore this week. Gone straight home from work everyday- I find them exhausting!!! Although I have been finding myself quite productive at home. I have been pretty good about picking up my guitar for at least half an hour every night - oh yes, I don't know if I mentioned- I found a guitar in the street my first night in Seoul. I took it as a sign, threw on some strings, and I'm already getting caloused fingers- which is further than I've gotten in a long time in my attempts to start playing.

November 11th marked Remembrance Day in Canada and Veterans Day in the States. In Korea, it was Pepero Day- I was given quite the nasty look by the Koreans at work when I said we had it in Canada, and we called it Pocky... Apparently Pocky is the Japanese version of Pepero (long, thin biscuits coated in chocolate) and there is some argument as to which came first- the Pocky or the Pepero. (Below you will find the Pepero mascots). So what is Pepero day? As a show of nationalism, you are expected to give Pepero to everyone you know and love. My kids at school were none too impressed when I told them I didn't know it was Pepero Day because I don't read Korean... apparently this was no excuse. My kids felt annoyed and ripped off- and I assume I'm expected to make it up at Christmas. Regardless, I arrived home weighed down by every imaginable type of Pepero (and still can't see the difference between Pepero and Pocky- but shhh, don't tell anyone).

Much of the shock of being in Korea has worn off- but there are still things that I'm trying to get used to. I still avoid walking through the fish market in the morning- because it's just too early to smell that much fish. I still have to walk by an anchovy stand, but somehow it's not as bad. The gender differences continue to amaze me. The girls at work were shocked when I said I used to play soccer and that I rollerblade. Despite the fact they all work with young children, they arrive at work in skirts and high heels every day. And spend their money on designer purses. It amazes me- and even though I feel totally under-dressed at work, I just can't bring myself to dress like that to play with kids. In other news, I mentioned in a previous email that it is frowned on for women to smoke in public. You may be interested to know that the count for Korean women I've seen smoking is at two. Women's washrooms always smell of smoke, as they sneak a cigarette with friends in a stall, but apparently few can tolerate being glared at in the street. Apparently smoking makes a women a whore, or so I'm told. I don't quite understand it, however... In other gender-related news, my boss is quite traditional and apparently deems it a sign of a weak relationship if the woman is not home cooking and cleaning for the man. This is a topic I believe I should avoid with him- as clearly I wouldn't rate too highly in this area. And I'm not too sure where that would place Fred in his books...

And with that, I will bring to an end my Korean update for the week. The camera is working out great, and I would have included pictures of my palace trip today, but I forgot everything at home- so it'll have to wait until next time!

Take care & Keep in touch!

Love, Steph.

I Dream of Kimchee

Hello Hello! Well, first off- the coffee saga has come to an end, at long last. I finally marched myself down to a supermarket and found regular coffee. Many of you are probably thinking, why didn't she do that in the first place? Well, because of the Korean obsession with instant coffee- all of the coffee on the entire shelf was instant... except of course, the one bag I found. The only way I could tell it apart from the other coffee is there were coffee filters taped to the bag, which I took as a hint and I am finally drinking good coffee. It has been an eventful week. So, we went out last Saturday night- first for Korean barbecue and then headed off to a pub where pitchers twice the size of Canadian ones were 7$. So we had alot of it. Then headed off to another bar like the Republik for the Calgarians (except open) or Cock n Bull for Montrealers... It was so crowded- different groups of people were sharing tables- and everyone sang at the top of their lungs to the Queen and Guns 'n Roses songs. I discovered it may not be a bad idea to invest in a baseball cap to cover the blond hair as an old Korean man kept pulling me to my feet to dance with him. Over, and over, and over again. But it was funny. He rewarded me in the end with Wagon wheels. It was also here I experienced for the first time a traditional Korean bathroom. It was weird. That is all I want to say. We finished off the night at a Karaoke place with private Karaoke rooms. I was surprised to see the Calgary Stampede and the LRT (train for Montrealers) make an appearance in their Karaoke videos. As I tried to hail a cab, I was hit by yet another complication in not speaking the language... having no street names, it makes it very difficult to direct someone to your house. And so I walked from the subway-- I'm impressed we got that far since I apparently can't even pronounce the station name understandable and had to point to a map... Yesterday our school went on a field trip to see a musical. I love kids. The whole day was so exhausting, but so worth it to hear their very vocal and honest critique of the play. This was the worst piece of theatre I have since in a long time... There was no plot- it was just twelve animals from the chinese zodiak, each singing a song to please a grumpy dragon. It was really, really bad. At one point, not even half way through- the entire audience of kids- about 200 of them - started chanting "No more songs! No more songs!" That went on for about ten minutes. I have to say I didn't do much to discourage them. As the other teachers tried to quiet them down, I just laughed- cause I couldn't have agreed with them more. A Korean friend accompanied me to the increasingly dangerous (in the spending money kinda way)Electronics market this week... and I finally broke down. Got a great deal on a really expensive camera... and was then talked into buying a fancy cell phone. When in Rome, as they say. So pictures will soon follow... Anyway, unfortunately I haven't seen a whole lot of new stuff this week- so that will bring this week's email to a close- I apologize for being less informative and entertaining this time around.

No Smelly Food Carrying-in, It Will Disturb The Starbucks Aroma

So, week one is drawing to a close (don't worry, I won't be sending 2 updates a week all year- probably just until the novelty of new stuff wears off). And the learning has come quick. My pointing fingers have gotten a good work out this week, so I was able to get by, although not necessarily always getting what I want. I feel like I've entered a time warp. Everywhere I look, women in long skirts and high heels- men in business suits. Louis Vitton purses surround me in the land of knock- offs. So convincing are the purses and even Puma and Adidas knock offs, you'd swear they were real, except they're sold by a guy in the metro and they're lined up on the floor... Apparently it's because there are no copyright laws in Korea (although I'm not sure I believe that, I think it has more to do with no one caring). They love their brand names here. Yesterday I saw a Hyundai with Porshe stickers on it, and today a BMW with Harley stickers. I have five year old kids in my class that wear Prada and Burberry to school. Why? I can't answer that, but I wish I could. If you're wondering what Hollywood celebrities do in their off time, it's ads in Asia. Drew Barrymore is the face of Baskin Robbins, and Gwyneth Paltrow Beanpole (I've never heard of this before, but it's everywhere). Apparently Wesley Snipes is in an Audi ad, but I haven't seen that yet, so it doesn't count. Even the hair salon by my house has Jennifer Aniston and Britney Spears on their sign. Gender differences are huge here. Women still don't smoke in the street- and although it's become more acceptable, they still prefer to huddle together in bathroom stalls for their cigarettes. There are ashtrays in every bathroom and apparently cigarettes are 2$ a pack. A far cry from Canada's over-inflated prices.
I went in search of an answering machine the other day- and determined as I was to do it all by myself, I told the Korean teacher I didn't need help when she offered to come with me... Seems like an easy enough task, does it not? I found the department where the telephones were, and as far as I could see, there was no answering machine to be found. I spent the next fourty minutes opening up every box hoping for English instructions that would tell me if there was a built in answering machine. No such luck, so I left, with no answering machine feeling pretty stupid and not looking forward to the long list of things to do like opening a bank account or acquiring a cell phone... But today I was approached (only 5 days into my Korea experience) for the first time by someone looking for English instruction, so that made me feel a little better. I also had my first experience with a crammed subway today. Not pleasant, don't wanna talk about it.
And today I ventured beyond my neighborhood into tourist land and the music market of Insadon. I had planned on buying a guitar here since it seemed like too much hassle to bring mine- but I found an acoustic in the street my first night here, so I bought some strings in music land. Apparently they like to make districts in the city so you know where to get stuff- next week-end I'm heading out to the Electronics market. Anyway, when we got off the subway there was an amazing group of performance artists who had made instruments out of bottles, jugs, tire rims, tubes and had two enormous home made xylophones. It was incredible.

24 Hours in Seoul

Hello Everyone!

So, I've just arrived in Seoul after a week in Calgary. I have to say I'm relieved and excited as everything seems to be legitimate and the people at the school are really nice and quite helpful. So, my first impressions of Seoul- I got off the plane and the first thing I saw were three giant LCD screens (Samsung, of course) that played looped Samsung commercials for what are called 'hand phones' in Korean. The first bit of culture shock occured when I tried to get my luggage off the carousel, and I had gotten one bag, but was waiting on a second. An airport official came over, yelled something, and everyone grumbled and dispersed in different directions. I was left standing at the carousel, confused, with two other Canadians. It's okay- my bag came out a minute later and I guess I'll never know what the fuss was about. My recruiter picked me up and drove me to the school- and it was a long drive. We passed over the Korean Sea- which at low tide, is so low that it appears red from the plants on the bottom. The school is located in Mok-Dong, which still means nothing to me- but it is at the top of an office building near such western conveniences as KFC, Pizza Hut, McDonald's and a French bakery. Apparently school children in Korea go to a different school for every subject, which I didn't realize, so our school is strictly for English instruction. I arrived exhauted, and everyone talked a mile a minute because apparently new teachers are very exciting things. The entire administration of the school- four other teachers, the director and his wife piled into the mini van to drive me to my new home. Along the way, I learnt that traffic laws are non-existent. Or at least they aren't enforced. Scooters take over the sidewalks- cars drive the wrong way on one way streets, so I've decided the metro is all very well and good for me, because I want nowhere near a car in this city... it's even worse than Montreal, if you can imagine. Anyway, I was pleased to learn that I would not be living in a Samsung building- of which there are many, many. Samsung, Hyundai and LG own most of the country, including many apartment buildings. I hear that Samsung apartments are prone to malfunction, as are most things Samsung, so I was quite relieved to find I would not be housed in one. No blinking, collapsing apartments for me! So I arrived home- my apartment is a cute 3 1/2 (1 bedroom for those in Calgary). My shower is my whole bathroom and that's just weird. My washing machine has a play and pause button, which I can only assume means that it plays MP3's, although who knows. I can't figure out my TV for the life of me, as all the buttons are in Korean- but I did manage to turn it on. Out back I discovered a bonsai garden, and what I think is a peach tree. So this morning, after some serious unpacking, I ventured out... Seoul has no street signs, so I sincerely hope I am able to find my way home. I walked passed the dep (Mac's for those of you in Calgary) on the corner of my street - where I discovered two elderly men intently leaned over a game of Go! And I thought of you, Dave- I'll get a picture, apparently they're there everyday. I was starving, so I thought I'd experiment with some Korean food... I approached a street vendor- pointed at something that I thought looked interesting, yet non-threatening and it was at this moment that I felt very unprepared for my trip. She rattled off for a minute in Korean- and I just nodded, shrugged and held out god knows how much money. I think I paid her about 30 cents, but I have no idea. As I walked away, satisfied and excited I had gotten through my first Korean transaction- I bit into my recently purchased lunch and discovered, to my dismay, that my first Korean meal was nothing more than a heavily breaded and fried corn dog. Well, second meal if you count the odd tasting McDonald's burger from last night. Not to be dissapointed, I continued on my way- hoping to find something that resembled a coffee shop... I found instead a PC Bong (Internet cafe) where I tried to communicate 1 hour and paid the man 80 cents for that hour. I made my way to the coffee machine in the corner and attempted to purchase a coffee, which proved impossible as I had no idea how much money it was asking for... the man sensed my fear and bought me my coffee, for which I would pay him back if I could figure out how much he put into the damn machine... anyway- here I sit drinking my coffee with milk and sugar because I was unable to communicate black coffee in Korean...

Anyway, those are my first impressions of this crazy city. This morning I tentatively peared through my window when I was awoken by people screaming in the streets and the sound of loud trucks. I thought the North Koreans were after me- but it was just a vegetable truck driving up my street...

Anyway, that's all for now- keep in touch and update me on all things Calgary/Montreal...