Vanity

Living in Korea has really had an effect on me, one I didn’t realize until recently. There I was, riding the elevator up into the fifth floor, where our school is, and everyone in the elevator – myself included – is not looking at each other, no, we are all gazing at our own images in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

Before Korea (hereafter referred to as B.K.), the first time I looked in a mirror all day was when I caught an accidental glimpse of myself in a store window. Even when I first got here, I rarely looked in the mirror before leaving for work. But people here put so much care in their appearance that it started to wear off on me. My female coworkers are always impeccably dressed despite the fact that they have to chase after small children all morning. They still wear high heels and miniskirts to work. Now, I spend a good long time every morning fixing my appearance before I even leave the house. I have even taken to carrying a mirror with me wherever I go.

In the time B.K., my makeup bag consisted of eyeliner, some foundation and occasionally eye shadow. Three items. I now have two (2) makeup bags, neither of which can close properly because they are too full. This is partly because I have been given a lot of makeup by the parents of my students (I can just imagine that conversation at home:

Mother: What is Emily Teacher like?

Student: Well, she doesn’t wear makeup. Like, not at ALL.

Mother: That POOR GIRL. She can’t even afford makeup! I must give her some!)

But it is also partly because of the fact that I am becoming rather vain. The problem is compounded by the fact that the makeup I came with, bought when I had been living in Florida for most of the year, now is too dark for my pale skin. In Korea, paleness is to be desired and I’m pretty sure the skin products here all contain some sort of whitening agent (again, this would not have been a problem B.K. because I never used ‘skin products’). This plus the effects of the hideously long winter have made me so very pale. So pale that I can now use Korean makeup. My new vain self doesn’t know how to feel about this, as I have been raised with the notion that a tan is healthy. But here, it’s like having face cancer. I’ve seen women use honest-to-god sun umbrellas, or, if they are not available, any non-translucent object – including their own children – to avoid the toxic rays of the sun.

In the same way American women are obsessive about their weight, Korean women are obsessive about their skin.

Some of this change in my attitude is a good thing. I am the first to admit that I could take a little more care in my appearance. But a lot of it I would do well to leave behind when I go. Maybe I can have a ritualized burning of my second cosmetic bag. My friends and I could use the extra makeup as warpaint to accompany the bonfire.

Rent-a-Foriegner

Like in India, in Korea, the presence of a foreigner automatically adds legitimacy to an endeavor you are about to undertake. The difference being that in India, the Foreigner Presence can be applied to any number of things and still work, where as in Korea, it is mainly applied to all undertakings involving the speaking of English. On Saturday, I had a chance to experience this, once again, first hand. For the day, I was a Rent-a-foreigner.

I got the call early in the morning. I had been scheduled to go skiing that day but had stayed up too late celebrating with Egypt about Mubarak stepping down and didn't get the information until it was too late. Basically, I woke up at 8:24am and looked at my email which said they were all meeting in Seohyeon at 8:30am. I called my friends and told them there was no way I was going to make it and I was sitting there bummed out about it when my co-worker, Will, called with an alternative idea.

I had to make it to Namseong by 10:30am, but then all I had to do was give a 10 minute speech and I would be paid. Since I had planned to go into Seoul as a plan B anyway, I figured I might as well do it. So I made a mad dash for Namseong and was about 20 minutes late because of traffic and because it was just so far away.

They met me right out of the taxi and we all jumped into someone's car for a quick drive to the hogwon. They told me in the car that all they wanted me to do was talk about how important an English education was at a young age. The speech should last about five minutes and then I was free to go.

Except that there was another one at 2pm. This is typical Korean M.O. They don't tell anyone anything they don't immediately need to know unless it affects them. For instance, were I making this deal in America, the woman I talked to over the phone would have explained there was two jobs. Instead she just told me about the one and told me to come. When I got there, she said, "Can you come back at 2pm also?"

As annoyed as I should have been, I was kind of used to this behavior at this point and since I had nothing else to do, I said 'sure'.

When the teacher I was with and I went in together, I got the kind of treatment that is pretty typical of Korean Foreigner relations. Which is that I was treated like a particularly gifted but socially backwards circus animal. The teacher introduced me, and then guided me to sit somewhere out of the way while she gave her presentation.

When she was done, she gestured dramatically for me to give my speech which was met with titters from the mothers in the crowd. It was as though they hadn't expected me to really start speaking. Most of them just stared at me looking blankly impressed - I'm almost certain that they didn't understand a word I was saying though I made sure to speak slowly and clearly. One mother in the back looked like she understood because she was nodding vigorously to everything I said and whispering rapidly to those around her.

I finished my speech when the 'Boss' that I was working with for the day gave me a gesture, causing more titters from the Mothers. I smiled and said 'thank you', gave a little bow that caused more giggles and we left.

I was told I was going to have to meet them back at 2pm and there would be a new teacher for me to work with but the same Boss. I left for Itaewon, thinking I had enough time to sit down at a restaurant there and eat some good foreign food but by the time I got there I had about half an hour and then I would have to start heading back. Seoul's subway system may be good, but sometimes it takes a long time to get from one place to another.

I ended up eating at Taco Bell, which I had only ever had while intoxicated. Let me tell you, the food doesn't improve with sobriety. I started heading back.

I waited nearly an hour to do my second speech which was really starting to annoy me. The Boss, too, was anxious on my behalf. He kept on saying things like 'do they have to ask so many questions?' and 'look at the mothers! They are all bored, she should stop talking!'

Finally, I made my speech to a lot less giggles with time because I was more confident, I think. And left a hundred bucks richer. I don't know if I'd do it again, but it did pay for my back pack I had to buy for my upcoming trip and a Batman belt buckle that I will probably never wear but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have.

Afterwards, I went back to Itaewon and bought some hummus at the foreign food store and some bread at a halal bakery because I was still feeling the buzz from Freedom Friday. And it was really good hummus.

Lunchtime

As a temporary Kindergarten teacher in Korea, I get to have a peek into a life controlled by four year olds. Lunchtime, especially, is a harrowing ordeal. I will describe a typical day to you now because I want someone to understand the madness.

For an hour every day I sit down with nine four year olds and attempt to make them eat all their food like good little kids. The normal procedure for lunch time is: in the morning, the kids take their empty lunch boxes to the 'lunch room', which is just an unused classroom. The lunch lady fills them up while the kids are in class, and at lunch time the kids retrieve them after washing their hands (or pretending to wash their hands). I carry a soup tray to the classroom and ladle out soup for everyone. We are supposed to sing a lunch time song, which I don't even know because I've never actually made them do it, and then everyone eats. Or at least, that’s what is supposed to happen. But things usually go wrong around the 'sitting down to eat' part and continue through the rest of the lunch time.

First, Kevin tells me that he can't eat yet, because the case that his spoon and fork are in is, in fact, a spaceship, and it is about to blast off. He then starts to go through all the numbers he knows – in no particular order – in an attempt to count down to blast off. Knowing from experience that nothing with Kevin will progress until after ‘blastoff’ I leave him to it and turn to David who is placidly staring at his lunch box. David seems to spend his days staring placidly at things; I don't think he would even eat if someone didn't tell him to. He'd just sit there being cheerful. He will be the next Buddha.

Lukas is running around frantically looking for something, or trying to do something. It doesn't matter what it is, come lunch time there is always something urgent Lukas must be doing besides sitting in his seat and eating his food. I can just imagine what goes on in Lukas' head - there would be a 24-type scenario going on where he has to find X before it... I don't know, blows up? I'm sure he sees his quest as very dramatic and important. He is the Jack Bauer of his own little universe.

I herd Lukas into his chair, ignoring his theatrical pleas for me to wait, just wait, Teacher! I open David's lunchbox for him and tell him to eat, and turn back to Kevin who is still 'counting down'. He's switched into Korean numbers at this point, with a few Chinese numbers thrown in for good measure. The 'spaceship' is still waiting patiently to blast off. I grab it from him and say 'Three, two, one, blastoff!” and do my very best impression of a rocket ship. Kevin is very impressed. He opens his utensil box and begins to eat.

At this point, Kris saunters in like he's the Lone Ranger back from a sojourn. He's been off God Knows Where for the last ten minutes and looks way too proud of himself. This can only mean he's broken something, or sent another kid to the hospital. But since all nine of my kids are accounted for, I decide it's not my problem. I settle him in and take the soup container back to the lunch room to empty the leftover soup into the leftovers pot. By the time I get back, Lukas is out of his seat again and arguing at the top of his lungs with Clare, who is screeching back at him. I choose to assume they are engaging in a highly intellectual discussion on the economic and social ramifications of uniting North and South Korea, and move on. Meanwhile, Kevin is staring off into space with both his hands down his pants. Abigail, Paul, and Kylie have remembered that chopsticks fit up their nose holes pretty well and are now attempting to pick up their rice with them.

I corral Lukas back into his chair and remind David – who is still staring placidly at his food – that at some point he'd going to have to eat some of it. Clare is following me around now, telling me 'TEACHER, LUKAS IS OUT OF HIS CHAIR' which she had been telling me for the last ten minutes and could refer to the current episode or any of the last five. Either way, I've already made him sit down so I try to convince her to follow suit. But, upon hearing his name so sullied with such libelous slander, Lukas jumps up and starts another yelling match. Kris decides that he doesn't want to eat and instead wants to cling onto my leg while I move around trying to referee the fight. I am so distracted that I let him stay for a couple seconds which inevitably provokes another child – probably Abigail – to cling to the other one.

This is about when I break down and threaten their stars. Stars are serious business in Kindergarten. Each kid has their name on the board, next to which are all the stars they get for good behavior. To threaten one’s stars is to threaten the owner’s very place in the Kindergarten social hierarchy. While I am waving the board eraser around like a super villain with a bomb detonator, they all race back to their seats with astonishing swiftness. Once I have taken away a couple stars, they are all sitting down, backs ramrod straight and determined to be quiet and eat.

This lasts for the three seconds it takes Olivia to pick up a big blob of rice and drop it on the floor. Her face is stoic as she does it, like she was simply feeding her pet, the floor. Nothing unusual. I get some tissues to clean it up and Lukas is out of his seat, doing the Butt Dance (a staple of kindergarten entertainment) which provokes similar responses from the other children. Another round of stars is erased, tears are shed, and everyone sits again.

Clare is finished and I empty her leftover food into the empty soup tray. I make a big deal about it because these kids will eat at glacial speeds. I give her a star and put a big number one by her name. Kris sees this and 'accidentally' drops his rice on the floor, smiling at me ('uh oh, Teacher!'). Then, ten seconds later: 'teacher, finished!' which is basically how Kris does everything in life.

Olivia and David, who always insist on sitting together, are now bickering loudly about something in Korean like an old married couple. It's probably something to do with how David pays more attention to Kylie these days. Olivia is shaping up to be a pretty controlling and jealous girlfriend. Every five seconds one of them will give me a play by play on what the other is doing. 'Teacher! David is looking at my rice!', 'Teacher! Olivia touched my plate!' Neither of them is eating.

Kevin has rice ground into the elbows and forearms of his sweater sleeves and is shoving more up his nose, ostensibly so he can say he is finished, too. Lukas, who now has no stars left and thus, no fear, is sticking his head out the door and shouting down the hallway at some kids from another class. Abigail tells me she is finished when it looks like her food hasn't even been touched at all. I bargain with her until she agrees to take three more bites of her rice and one more big spoonful of soup. I do the same with Paul but he doesn't seem to understand the concept of bargaining. Here is a sample conversation:

Paul: Teacher, finished!
Me: Okay, Paul, I want you to eat at least three more bites of your soup.
Paul: ...Okay, teacher.
Me: Good.
Paul: Teacher, five more bites!
Me(confused): okay...
Paul: Teacher, ten more bites!
Me: Paul, you can eat it all if you want.
Paul: Okay, teacher!

The madness continues in this vein until 12:40, at which point I can tell them all to go to the lunch room so they can finish their lunches under the watchful eyes of the lunch lady and some of the other Korean teachers. I wipe the table down and take the soup tray of leftovers to the lunch room for the lunch lady to deal with. I collapse at my desk and contemplate the fact that this will all start all over again tomorrow.

Swan Lake

As some of you may know, this weekend I saw Swan Lake performed by the Korean National Ballet. Though I've seen many theater and dance performances in the past, I think this is the first time I've seen a ballet live, and it was an interesting experience. I've never been able to hear the thumps as the ballerinas hit the stage or the squeaks of their shoes. When you see ballet performances on TV or in movies, they always edit that part out.

With the exception of the guy who played Prince Sigfried and one of the demi-soloists, the dancing was superb. The guy who played the Prince made it look like work and was kind of lazy. The demi-soloist was half a beat late on just about everything except when she was a swan. I am assuming they practiced the hell out of that part because its very famous and even someone like me who has never seen a ballet before would notice if they messed it up. Besides, the piece has been parodied in cartoons and movies for generations.

We had great seats - the cheapest ones and still the best, how is that possible? - and I went with my friend Maria who used to study ballet. Though she has very little confidence in her ability as a ballerina these days, she still has a lot of insight into the art and even the politics of it. We had some good long discussions about the performance and her experiences in various dance schools.

I don't know if this is normal in a ballet - and Maria says she'd never seen it before - but apparently its customary in Korea to take a bow after about every scene. They even all took bows at intermission which, by then, had started to get supremely annoying. It was like in every place where the audience might suddenly burst into applause, they would stop and bow. There are two reasons I can think of for this - either the company has a very high opinion of themselves, or they don't think that their mostly Korean audience will catch on to when they are supposed to be clapping and so make it easy for them. I think the earlier is more likely seeing as ballet is not that foreign to the people of Seoul.

The woman who played Odette/Odille was fantastic, though. She did this thing where she shook her tutu in such a way that it looked like a swan resettling its feathers. I know its part of the choreography, but she did it extremely well. The choreography for her pieces were very good, because you always got the impression of a bird when she danced. Its got to be hard to act like an awkward bird while making it look graceful, but she managed. The guy who played the Jester was also fantastic and somehow managed to bring a very Korean humor to his character. In my opinion, he should have been cast as the Prince, he was much more energetic and graceful. He also didn't look bored.

The music, of course, was beautiful, having been written by Tchaikovsky. I always thought that the Harry Potter theme was a rip off of another tune and now I have my suspicions confirmed. Just listen to the main theme of Swan Lake, and you'll think "Which one is Dumbledore?"

When I think back over the weekend I am inclined to believe that I had a sophisticated weekend, but then I remember that I pulled every muscle in my arm Saturday night playing wii tennis with strangers and I think maybe I didn't.

Post Office

When you live in a country where you are so obviously a foreigner, it seems like everyone is in your business. So, going to the post office on a Monday morning, I know I have to be ready to answer twenty questions from everyone I see.

Today, it was all about the package – was it for my family? Was I sending it to the States? Did I live in the area? I was speaking to one man who was very nice and asked all of these questions. I explained to him that the package was for my friend who lives in Hungary. He told me that he had been to Budapest and thought it was beautiful. When I told him I really wanted to go, he said, “Well, you live in Suji now!” like, now that I lived here, I would never want to go anywhere else.

Mudfest ReCap

So, for those of you who missed the miniscule articles and pictures about the Boryeong Mud Festival in Various news sources, I'm here to tell you all about it.

Our experience started on Friday night when we were looking for our hostel. We were supposed to meet the bus at 7 am and there was no way that we were going to make it all the way there from Suji (the meeting point was about 1-2 hours away from where we live). So I got us a hostel for relatively cheap online and we set out trying to find it.

What I didn't count on - but honestly should have - was that the area the hostel is in (Hongdae) is the university district. That means on a Friday night not only is it crowded, but there were drunk people left and right, carnival game stands and vendors on the street. We saw one couple face plant on the sidewalk right next to us because the guy had been trying to give the girl a piggy back ride. They both ended up with a face full of asphalt.

Through all this madness and the fact that the streets were very confusing and crowded we had very little chance of finding the hostel.

Along comes Korea's best kept secret: the sheer generosity and hospitality that every Korean shows to strangers when given the chance. After about two hours of searching we asked a woman at a nearby food stand. She didn't know either, but she would have rather eaten her own shoe then let us go without knowing we would find the place. She pulled in all the people at the stand and they had a mini conference about it - where was this place? Were we in the right area? Then this one guy who was there with his girlfriend ran all the way back to his car to get his GPS to find it for us. He then led us all the way there.

At which point, it became obvious why we couldn't find it. The entrance to it was down a sketchy alley and literally through a hole in the wall. If this had been India I would have said NO WAY. But Korea, I'm convinced, is one of the safest places on Earth, despite their tendency to fumigate city streets without clearing the people off first.

It turned out to be very not sketchy once we got inside - proving that sometimes you just have to embrace the adventure and trust in the good will of strangers. We slept very well - a lot better than we would have slept had we tried sleeping at the jjimjjilbang (sauna) again.

In the morning we got on the bus and made our way to the mudflats. The beach where the festival is being held is not where the mud is from. It’s from the mudflats about 30 minutes away. The tour we were on was embracing the true spirit of the mud and took us to the flats first. There we were given military looking outfits and told, very casually, that we were now going to run a marathon.

Me: wut?

We were also told that we should be careful and 'walk lightly' because there were sharp shells in the mud that could cut our feet. Then it was explained that after that, we would do some mud games but that we should be careful because last year, 'a man was broken' during the games. Our particular guide had a certain flare for drama - either that or he was taught English by American soap operas. We found out later that the man just broke his leg while playing rugby on the mudflats.

So, we did the marathon - I say 'did' because I walked most of it; but 5 kilometers is 5 kilometers - which the Mayor of Boryeong started off with his pop gun, and got our army uniforms all muddy. I even got a Medal for completing. We then abstained from their organized rugby madness to have our own shenanigans. We started a mud fight just among the four of us (Leslie, Stephanie, Ryan and me) and Leslie's friend Jeremy, which escalated when one of the guides got involved. He lobbed a mud ball at my head and when Ryan turned to throw mud at him, he calmly informed Ryan that he couldn't do that because Ryan was on his team. Thus, the girls versus boys mud fight got pretty messy and ended with Ryan and Stephanie so muddy you may not have been able to tell them apart.

After getting all cleaned up - well, a little cleaned up, they were open air showers at which photographers with telephoto lenses were camped out - we got back on the bus and went to where the actual mud festival was being held.

We got to lay our stuff down in our room - which, by the way, had no furniture in it. No beds, nothing. And we left for the festival proper.

Leslie had been waiting all week to paint herself with the colored mud so that’s what we did first.

The ladies at the stall who were painting people ranged from understanding but harassed to fascist and angry. Stephanie wanted a certain pattern, and the woman who was doing hers listened to her carefully, then completely disregarded what she wanted. Stephanie tried one last time - she wanted a yellow circle around her eye - and the woman nodded and reached for the yellow paint brush. We thought that we had finally made a break through until she plopped the thing down on her hair and started to slather her hair with the thick yellow paint. So much for cross cultural understanding.

For food we inevitably ended up at this one restaurant that had bay windows overlooking the ocean. It was called 'Orange' which follows a long Korean Tradition of naming restaurants after random English food words. This is parallel to the tradition of naming restaurants with English names like Alice and Lucy or Frank.

The problem with the whole adventure was that we were sharing it with some unsavory characters. There were a lot of foreigners there who were doing a bad job of representing their country. I am speaking specifically of some of the Army people we saw getting drunk and shooting fireworks into the boardwalk. It was the only time I've even been cat called in all five months I've been in Korea. When we went back to Orange for dinner that night, instead of a nice relaxing dinner, we were constantly on edge trying to disassociate ourselves with the rowdy meatheads. Unfortunately, this didn't work judging by the fact that our waiter asked us to pay before we got our meal. Its one of my personal pet peeves, being judged on the actions of others and I was just in a bad mood the rest of the night. In fact, I left the restaurant and went straight back to the hotel, not only because I had woken up that morning at 6 am, but also because I didn't want to deal with more American Idiots.

The next morning I was in a foul mood and nothing I did could shake it. Everything anyone said to me was followed by a sarcastic remark in my head. I have learned long ago that the only way out of this kind of pattern was to give myself a time out from socializing. So while Leslie, Steph and Ryan went to the beach and got all muddy some more, I just sat under an umbrella by the beach and chilled. It did improve my mood a little and gave them a chance to have fun without Grouchy McSourpants along. I took some pictures, bought some mud soap and tried to lighten my mood. We met up later and had lunch at the 'foreigner restaurant' set up by the event staff. But all they had was hamburgers so I ended up eating at a Kabob stand down the street - best kabob EVAR.

At this point I was hot and sweaty and I could feel a headache coming on so I just decided to spent the remaining 45 mins of our trip on the air conditioned bus. I guess I wasn't as adventurous as I should have been on this trip but I blame it on the mood I was in. And the heat. But honestly, the heat wouldn't have stopped me if I had been all gung-ho about it.

All in all the trip was a success despite my moodiness and we have some fabulous pictures which I will post at a later date. This is because I am currently in Japan on the second part of my vacation. Be jealous.

Lucy

Here was what my lunch comprised of yesterday:

Rice

Dried Squid legs in sweet chili sauce

boiled robin's eggs

kimchi

an avacado

I am so not in Kansas anymore. I've never been to Kansas but i'm pretty sure none of those things are regularly on the menu. Well, rice, but who counts rice?

We're getting a new Korean teacher (Lucy) and she seems really nice. We chatted some when she was observing one of my classes.

But today I was having trouble with a class and breezed right by her without saying hello. Not a big deal in America but, as I have already mentioned in a previous post, serious buisness in Korea. It been one of the hardest things to adjust to because I often ignore people I know on the street. Nothing personal, just habit, I guess. I was absorbed in my work at my desk when I felt someone rubbing my back. I look up to see Lucy with a concerned look on her face.

"You seem upset." she said. I wasn't really but I was frustrated enough to not have remembered to greet her when I walked in - this was the point that I realized my mistake. So I gave a dramatic sigh and played it up.

"Kiwi class is crazy." I tell her. She gives me a sympathetic look and starts fanning me with the papers she has in her hand. I feel bad about my earlier misstep so I try to make up for it. And one thing I have learned about female kind is that there is sometimes nothing that can lift your spirits like a sincere compliment from another female.

"You have such a pretty dress!" I said. She is tall and curvy in a way that Korean women just aren't. In America she would be considered a knock out.

"Thank you! You have a pretty face." Apparently she is well versed in female, too.

later I find out that she can't come to a get together we are having because she's going to the hospital to get monitored becasue she's on serious diet drugs.

Ah, Korea. Destroyed another woman's self esteem, have you?

The Sauna

I have found it. The Holy Grail. The Fountain of Youth. Shangri-la. The Tupperware container. I have found the source of Korean women's perpetual youthfulness and beauty. The Korean Sauna.

I hesitate to describe it because I'm not sure I can do it justice. We got there and put our shoes in one locker and traded the key to get a key for another locker. They gave us these uniforms to wear (blue for boys, pink for girls - think gym class uniforms) and after we changed we were led out to this open area that must be someone's idea of utopia. Men and women in uniforms were sitting around, chatting. Little children in yellow uniforms were playing. There were raised platforms under which there were little elongated indents where you can sleep while wrapped in hot sauna heat. All along the walls are different rooms, starting with what I would like to call 'the Oven' which looked so much like an actual oven that I was a little nervous about getting stuck in there.

Next they had the 'jewel room' which was a sauna with mosaics on the wall. Then the 'salt room' which had big blocks of salt in its natural form - pink - lying around. The floor was made entirely of salt. Then there was the 'charcoal room'. Charcoal being an great way to get toxins out of your body. Intermixed with these was a foot bath room, a dozen other saunas, a restaurant and a cafe. There was even a nore-bang (Korean Karaoke) that was also a sauna.

We went from room to room, soaking in the heat (or in the case of the ice room, soaking in the cold) and the minerals floating through the air. We have officialy found the place we are going to spend our Friday nights. No binge drinking for these twenty-somethings. Nope. Nothing but pure sweat lodge.

And you know how much it cost us? Try and calculate, if you can, how much something like this would cost in the states. Unlimited use of different saunas, a pool, an exercise room, showers, beds, lockers, clothing, towels, and even water in a clean, modern facility open 24 hours a day? Can you count all those zeros? In Korea it cost us 7,000 won. Less than $7.00 USD.

We are in the process of planning a sleep over at the sauna. Apparently its common to come and sleep there overnight. We're going to nore-bang until we can't sing anymore and then get some beers and wait around until we feel like singing some more. Tonight, we stayed there until 1 am before we realized how late it was.

Stephanie and Ryan's boss, Ji-he, took us all and showed us around. Which must have been weird for them. Especially when it was time to get naked. Along with their lack of personal boundaries, Koreans also have a lack of self consciousness when it comes to being naked. Of course, the men and women were separated so it shouldn't have been such a big deal. But it was. Have you ever walked through a room full of strangers in your all together? I haven't since I was old enough that streaking was no longer considered cute. Add to it the fact that we are way-gooks ('foreigners') and you've got yourself a recipe for uncomfortableness.

It was awkward but we chose to see it as a bonding experience. And a growing experience. And a I'm-going-to-start-working-out-more experience.

Don't Stand So Close to Me

Living in a foreign country holds unexpected surprises around every corner. Things that you think are pretty standard turn out to be outlandish ideas. Like personal space.

Koreans don't do personal space.

In anthropological terms, we call this proxemics (technically defined as the study of set measurable distances between people as they interact). In different cultures people keep different spaces between them. There are different spaces, for example, between people of authority and their underlings, between teachers and students, between members of the opposite sex and members of the same sex.

My co-teachers are always, to use an Americanism, all up in each other's grills. They pet each other when bored; when they stand, they stand about two inches apart and when they offer food to you they expect you to just take a big bite of whatever it is from their hands or, in some cases, let them feed you.

It has taken me a while to adjust and not be startled when I end up in one of Rachel's vice-like embraces for no apparent reason. Even when Mrs. Kim took me to the immigration office yesterday, she sat way closer to me than I thought was humanly possible.

It has made me realize how little Americans touch each other on a daily basis. Back home, my close friends and I are pretty physical with each other (to the point where, in high school, a substitute teacher asked me and my friend Chauna if we were lesbians) but I would never go up to a co-worker I just met four months ago and demand that they eat from my hand. Its kind of sad, in a way, because humans are social creatures and flourish when they are reminded of their connections with others.

It’s not just in my office, either (I actually suspected this for a while). I’ve seen Koreans on the street holding hands with their friends and sitting on top of one another. This, however, only happens with members of the same sex. Like in India, members of the same sex are very physical with each other.

Though, thanks to India, my instinctual reaction to getting slapped on the butt is to turn around and swing for someone's nose, I appreciate that I'm being included.

This is interesting not only for the sake of my witty commentary but also because Japan, a country that, despite their hostility, is very similar to Korea (except that they can't play soccer. GO KOREA!), and has a very different perspective. In Japan, proxemics are serious business. I have been told that when offered a piece of food, you are not expected to pick it up with your hand or even let them place it in your hand. You are to put a paper towel on a nearby table and let the other person place it there.

I was trying to remind myself about cultural differences in Kindergarten today when one of my Apricot class, Min, kept on grabbing for my boobs. Now, this is a favorite past time of little children in Korea - grabbing for my boobs - because I'm pretty sure they think I’m smuggling oranges or something. Little kids have skewed proxemics to begin with, but add to it the Korean touchy-feely thing (which they have not figured out is only for members of the same sex) and you have a recipe for uncomfortableness.

But then again, I tend to agree with Ralph Emerson: "Children are all foreigners".

Update: A friend suggested a solution to people who get too close to you.

Picture courtesy of Hyberole and a Half