Yesterday was the best day ever. I am a person who has lots of "best days ever," and this is partially because I have a lucky and have a good life, and partially because I’m not afraid to make extreme statements like, "This is the best day ever."

I’m also not afraid to say other extreme things like, "My favourite colour is purple." "My favourite spice is cinnamon." "My favourite sound is bibimbap sizzling." I think this because I am comfortable with being incongruent five minutes later, or a year later, or whenever I feel like it. These extreme declarations have less meaning to me than some people, but still, I mean it. I just know I can change them later because I am a walking contradiction.

For example, it is equally likely for me to drop the F-bomb or say something profound about my Uncle Jesus, and sometimes I do it in the same breath. Yes, I censor myself around certain people, and I think that this is okay, too. I want you to "catch" me making out with someone I don’t know, walking into church, buying a six-pack, using Styrofoam, and reading a book about Uncle, and I want you to catch me doing it all at the same time because I want you to know- I’m bumpy.

So, yesterday was the best day ever. I got up early, and aced an exam. I wrote and wrote, and my handwriting was pretty at the beginning and messy at the end, and I made connections to different theories and sources, and my grammar was correct. I was proud. Then, I met my friend at the library. He is someone who honours his friendships. He actually makes time for people and he listens to them. He also notices if you’re not doing the same thing in return. Anyway, I saw him. And I could tell that he likes me, and it felt good. And I wondered if my friends can tell that I like them....

We walked to his neighbourhood and laughed and bought a tomato and some other things. We ate a sandwich with his homemade bread, and it smelt good. He gave me some juice in a slanted purple cup. Then we set to work, making pastry dough with an entire pound of lard. I am good at making pastry dough. We made cinnamon things and blueberry things and we made a mess, and some of our things were pretty, and some looked like slugs, and some had blue fingerprints on them. And maybe my life is like that messy kitchen, with slugs and slants and fat and fingerprints, and some very pretty things.

We cleaned the kitchen. He washed and I dried, and I put things back in the wrong places, though I think I’m getting better. Some more friends came over, and we went to the Korean restaurant.

I love the woman there with the soothing voice, who is careful to bring us food that we like, that sizzles, and that is vegetarian when it matters, and not, when it matters. And she could perceive that we were celebrating, though none of us really knew why, and it turned out that we were celebrating our "good friendship," and she commented on my hair and my long absence, and I wanted to flirt with this woman, because she made me so happy. I was surrounded with beautiful things. And I really liked the picture with the persimmons, even though I don’t really like persimmons, unless they’re very mushy and eaten with good friends.

Then we took our crazy carpets and went to the hill. My stomach hurt, and my neck hurt, and I felt a little dysfunctional when we got to the hill. But all of that disappeared with one slide. I promise that this happened: I was physically hurting before I took off. And then, as soon as I let go, everything in the world felt significantly better, and anything that hurt went away. Let go.

I went down backwards and on my stomach with my arms behind my back, and we fell and we spun and I won the Farthest Distance Contest.

We went back, and ate some more pastry and some cookies that were German and smelled nostalgic. And we smelled. Like sweat and garlic and matted hair and cinnamon and having fun in the magical snow and winter gear that has been in the closet too long.

And then I went home. My hands were full of things, and I was running up my sidewalk, and I fell...full-running-force, hands occupied, on the sidewalk. My whole front was wet and snowy and desperate. And it hurt at the end of my perfect day. But the pain made the fun a bit more acute.

My bed was my hero like never before, and as I fell into a wholehearted sleep, I could see the sparkled, purple-coloured cinnamon magic floating in the spaces around my bed.

Have you ever seen one of those movies where a whole bunch of people are barely and loosely connected, and somehow all of their lives are brought together to form one storyline?

Every day, when I go to university, I see a man who works in the bank. He’s older than me, he has brown hair, and I have a perfect view of his cubicle from the bus where I sit, waiting for the light to turn. Sometimes he’s not there, and I worry that he’s sick or wonder if he’s on lunch or in the bathroom. Usually he is there, though, and as I whiz by, I try to determine the state of his day, if he’s sitting erect, or if he’s weighed down with stress; if he’s making contracts with a customer, or if he’s dealing with a disoriented homeless person who has wandered in off the streets.

Who is he? How did he find himself working in a bank? What does his laugh sound like? Would he smile, or be frightened by the thoughts which I am having?

These people, whose lives have absolutely no bearing on my own, except when I consider for a moment that they really do matter...remind me that I matter, too.

It’s not really a question of whether we change the world or not, the question is how we have an effect on the world in which we live.

Which reminds me. I like Canada, because of the bus drivers. They are nice, and it’s okay to ask them questions. Even if you’re English is not perfect, they will try their best to help you. I know this, because my friend told me, and many international students think this, too. The other day, I had a bus driver who sang to himself, and every time we pulled up to a bus stop, he would say "Anyone need a lift?" It was so great. And now that I’m having a ‘Canada is Good’ day, here are some other things for which I am thankful:

-family and laughter from children

-seeing people on the street that I know, and I can tell that they like me

-libraries and being able to read

-gingerale

-sandwiches

 

Yesterday morning was agonizing.  A night of terrorizing dreams, and then waking up with a splitting headache.  I had a shower, which usually tends to help, but it didn't.  I spent the majority of the morning daydreaming about Korea like usual, and then left for university still feeling like my brain wasn't completely attached to the rest of me yet. 

 

I went to the coffee shop like I did so many times in Seoul.  I've never been brave enough to estimate how much money I would've saved had I not consumed as many cafe lattes as I did that year.  I walked up to the woman at Second Cup, and asked for a "cappae latte,"  the only phrase that was effective in Seoul.

 

"What?" 

 

"Cafe latte, please."

 

"How are you?"  She asked.  (Her timing was awkward, but she seemed concerned.)

 

"Fine, thank you.  And you?"

 

"I'm okay.  Where are you from?"

 

"I'm from here."

 

"You're from here?"

 

"Yeah, here." 

 

I think she knew that I wasnt...reallly...here.  (And that I needed some caffeine...fast.) I got so used to acting like I didn't know what was going on in Seoul, that I can pull it off in Canada, too.  It felt kind of affirming.  She was right, it doesn't feel right here. But it also made me realize that I do need to snap out of this mental state.

 

After my classes, I met with my Korean conversation partner.  We complained about Canada until we both felt normal again.  Something needs to be done about this pattern. 

Twice last week, people asked me, "Are you a feminist?" The way in which they raised their eyebrows when they asked caused me to question their motivation and their definition of the word.

"Yes," I answered, as confidently as I could muster. But through my mind ran all the contradictions I recognized in my thoughts and in my behaviour and I imagined to myself that they must have been obvious to the other as well.

"There are so many feminists here. I’m so sick of hearing them whine about dating relationships," my friend at my former college lamented.

I had to admit that I was fed up with it, as well. Exactly when was it that I chose to be counted among this stereotype of jilted females?

Though it has been a process, it was at exactly the same time at which I realized that I was fully human.

In elementary school, my PE teacher was African-American. He seemed to be twice as large as my father, and he was not quiet. Black and large and I was scared.

My mother recounts a time when he troubled me so much that she went to him to speak with him.

"She’s scared of me because I’m the first black man she has met."

And he was right.

But he had also divided the girls and boys into teams that week to play a game. The boys quickly named their team, and the girls couldn’t decide, and out of a simple desire for us to get some exercise, he allowed the boys to name us. Whatever the name was, I found it to be derogatory, and my poor mother didn’t hear the end of it. She went to him, and in doing so, affirmed a part of my human-ness.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to recognize the human in the other, because when I do, I start to feel a sort of responsibility towards him or her.

This week, I shook the hands of a couple who had been living down town in a bus shack for the past week. The man looked in to my eyes, and the woman held onto my hand for a longer time than I would have expected. Looking into their bruised faces, they were transformed into humans and a lump formed in my throat as I wondered about all the people I had ignored, or perhaps named derogatory names, in the past week. From my privileged position, it’s an easy thing to do.

When I can bring myself to do it, I force myself to look up, away from myself, when I’m walking down the street. Naturally, I resist this behaviour. It’s easier to ignore humans, to relinquish the responsibility of caring for them. But it amazes me how many people respond when I actually look at them. They nod, or smile, and sometimes I question myself as to whether or not I know them personally.

"I am human; you are human," we seem to be acknowledging to one another. This realization has changed the way I view myself and others. Though it may result in misunderstandings and raised eyebrows, I am proud of the way it has transformed the course of my life.

It's so sad.  I can't add blog entries from my computer at home.  MSN Spaces just doesn't work.  All those random thoughts not being read by random people and just getting lost somewhere in my mind.  *sigh*

I have never felt more a product of my socialization than in the Taekwondo classroom. My North American sense of equality is challenged as I bow to my teachers and my superiors, calling them by titles. My relatively peaceful, only child, Canadian self struggles with the idea of using my body violently. The Christ-worshiper part cringes at saluting the national flags. My femininity is challenged when forced to let out a loud yell at the end of sequences. The feminist in me is suppressed as I put up with sneers from my male counterparts who ignore me as much as possible.

Anyone who knows me can probably guess the effect that dealing with these paradoxes have. I’m a bundle of emotions, and I’m unable to hide them from anyone. One minute I’m focused and angry, the next I’m blushing and near tears. I smile, I worry. I love it and I hate it. My teachers are a bit unsure how to react, though I can see that they keep me away from the other male white belts as much as possible, wishing I could be just a little bit more lighthearted.

The feelings I have in the classroom are a concentrated example of how I felt in Korea. I wasn’t sure where I fit. I was constantly reevaluating my ethics and ethnocentrism. And now, back in Canadian society, I’m surprised at the fact that I still don’t fit, and I’m not as sure about anything that I believed with certainty before.

This uncertainty is leaking into all aspects of my life. I’m feeling that I’m questioning everyone. I’m uncomfortable with my friends, uncomfortable at university, uncomfortable with my family; with my country; with pacifism and religion; with the idea of going back to Korea.

Maybe no one understands or knows what is happening to me. Maybe they don’t notice. Maybe no one cares; or perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Needless to say, I feel like I’m making important decisions every day.

The nagging one is where to go from here. I’m the product, not only of society, but of two proud blue collar workers who have done some admirable things. They own their home. They have security, and see a happy future for themselves and for their grandchildren. They can buy things for pleasure...their parents dreamed about that at their age.

Wait. This is important. I’ve learned a lot from them. I’ve learned that if you do what you’re told, if you follow the rules, then you are treated well in life. You advance. You can pay for your house and take care of your children.

I’ve learned the value of acquiring skills. Life skills. Tangible things that you can use in the workplace. I’ve learned about a strong work ethic. I’ve learned to dress nicely and do what my bosses tell me to do. This is what is to be done in order to be successful.

I know I could do this well, and they know that, too.

And everyone involved is frustrated by the fact that there is a tiny voice, telling me something else. This voice became apparent, loud in clear, when it surprised a teacher and myself when it said,

"The people who control the thoughts of our society will control the people."

Thoughts. Skills. Balance.

                                                     House.                 Kids.                "Learn to weld."

           Money.               Ethics.                         Knowledge.

I know which path is easiest.  I know where I feel confident.

I’m not sure if the other choice will make me happy, or if I will be secure or if I will have children or be able to buy nice things. But I know my eyes have been opened to some important things. And I’m not sure if it’s a right choice to try to close them right now.

I just had a 2.5 hour interaction with my Dell computer repair man. I called him today because my lap top hasn’t been working for months, and I hadn’t bothered to do anything about it, mostly because I was going home from Korea soon, and I thought it would be easier to deal with it from here.

So, I called him today. At first it was hard to understand him, and our call got disconnected. But we were communicating effectively in no time. As soon as I told him what was wrong, he had me turning the computer over, taking the battery out, and taking it apart with the screwdriver.

Not what I expected.

This was way more than I anticipated, and instead of taking the battery out, I got worried that I couldn’t find the screw that he wanted me to unscrew, not to mention the fact that I didn’t have a screwdriver. After 20 minutes of mapping out the back of my computer, we finally found the screw. I then admitted that I hadn’t taken the battery out...completely...okay, fine...at all, and I had no idea what he was talking about. The first time I broke his trust was when I pretended to be listening to him talk about the battery, but actually I was looking for a screwdriver. I dropped my dad’s drill bits all over the floor, and he asked me, "What just happened, Ma’am?

"Uh, I’m looking for a screwdriver."

"Well, I’m wanting to help you take out the battery, Ma’am," slightly irritated Richeed* answered.

"Okay," I answered sheepishly, returning to the back of my computer.

I had some difficulty getting the battery out, and I was still worried about not having a proper screwdriver.

"Really, I don’t think I can do this. Can I call you back? I really can’t do this..."

"Don’t panic, Ma’am. I’ll rephrase what I’m trying to tell you."(This was only the first time Richeed had to talk me out of not hanging up.) He talked me through finding a screwdriver in my parents’ house.

Somehow we removed the video-something-or-other, which happens to be placed behind the CD Drive.

"You’re doing very well with this troubleshooting, Ma’am."

"You’re very patient, too." We had to encourage one another. My hands were shaking.

Then we removed the hard drive. Richeed was patient with me when I confused all the different screws, and then couldn’t figure out how to put the hard drive back together again. I started to develop an emotional attachment to him, and this was only the first hour. We put the video thing back in, and the battery, and turned on the computer.

It didn’t work. Of course, I have to understand that Richeed had the best intentions in mind when he offhandedly mentioned that maybe, perhaps, I didn’t put all the pieces back together properly. I must admit, it hurt a little bit. And it also hurt when he asked if I still has screws left over, since I was working very quickly...

Together, we went through the process again. His calm voice strengthened me, reducing the tremors in my body, which were a result of seeing the inside of my computer for the first time.

We rebooted the computer, and checked the setup menu. Occasionally he put me on hold to find out the next step we should take, together.

At one point, I thought that the call had been disconnected.

I panicked again. "Sir! Are...Are you still there?" I cried out in desperation.

His unfading voice resounded. Thankfully.

Nothing worked. There was only one more thing we could do. Put pieces of paper in the slots by the screws. We took the whole thing apart one more time. But I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t making himself clear to me.

I put my hands on my hips. " I really don’t understand what you mean about the paper." (Our first fight!)

"Well, if you were going to fix something, and there was no tread on the screws, what would you do? Use another screw?"

"Yeah..."

"And in place of that, you would need to put tape or something by the screw so it would catch."

"Okay, so you want me to put in really small bits of paper in all the screw holes."

"Yes! Exactly. This works almost every time."

But it didn’t end up working. And I had to be placed on hold a few more times so we could get the information we needed to send it to the depot.

Richeed was really in tune with my needs. I really felt it was time to talk about my feelings so that we could progress our relationship to the next level.

At the end of the call, he asked about my emotional state; feedback about our encounter. I told him that I had learned a lot about my computer, and he affirmed me.

I am so blessed to have such an encouraging, patient and helpful man in my life.

*I named my computer repair man based on the sound of his voice.

I spent the night restlessly trying to reset my internal clock and waking up confused.  Here I am, back in my own country, and all I can think about or talk about is Seoul.  I wonder how long this will last?  I wonder when this irrepressable urge to seek attention from people who know Korea will go away?

 

I had to delete the last entry because an infatuation became human.  My last night in Seoul was so cool.  Thanks, Amy.  Thanks, Stef.

 

And here's to getting off the plane and feeling loved.  Thanks, guys.

 

I'm on the Internet, because it's still morning and I don't want to wake my dad up.  I've been up periodically all night, exhausted, but not able to sleep.  Hungry, but not being able to feel content after eating. 

 

I went for a walk, and instead of being over-stimulated by neon lights and cars and people, it was the newness, and familiarity...and about 100 things at once coming to my mind of things I want to do here.  But I'm lacking motivation and energy.  And I'm starting to catch a cold. 

 

It smells amazing in Canada.

 

I want some gimchi already.

 

 

 

I finally got my flight information, and I'm back in less than two weeks.  Things are good.

 

My holiday was amazing.  I have pictures of Cambodia and Malaysia...and a few of Thailand...but you have to ask me if you want to see them.  I only have paper copies because I dropped my camera in Cambodia.

 

The Malaysia ones are absolutly gorgeous.  (Ask me about Mee) I highly recomment Malaysia to anyone with the means to get there.  The ocean is...the ocean...but the beaches we went to were really peaceful. (Ask me about scuba diving~) The highlands were incredible, but I was so cold there!  Great weather for hiking there, and it's fertile land with really amazing plant life.

 

Malaysia is an Islamic country.  This means two things: 1)  The alcohol is harder to obtain than other countries.  This is important because it changes the type of crowd who decides to travel in Malaysia.  Very different than Thailand.  I liked it.  2)  I realized that I have a lot of misconceptions and am prejudiced when it comes to Islamic people.  I'm so glad I spent time there because it helped me deal with that a little bit.  (I think that some of of it came from watching Not Without My Daughter when I was 6 years old or something.)

 

The food was also great.  Indian, Chinese, Malay...it was all good.  And it's not as expensive as travel books may lead one to believe.

 

I thought Cambodia was amazing.  The people were so kind and forgiving in the midst the recent genocide.  They desire justice, for sure...but they are really humble and only want the top officials, it seems, to be charged harshly.   It was good to learn some history that I had never known before about Khmer Rouge.  The children had my heart, for sure, and the pictures of Ankor Wat are nothing compared to the real thing.  I want to go back.

 

I learned two important things while traveling.  The first one was that people are people.  When I was by myself- negotiating cabs, finding places to stay, talking to guards, walking-  it was easy to get so scared.  But the more I tried to do these things, the more I came to realize that we're all only human.  Of course I was careful, but it was an important thing to learn that other humans aren't as scary as I once thought.  I met a Japanese guy in Thailand who I thought was great.  We walked around a market at night, and he would say 'hi' to everyone and look over their shoulders and talk to them as they got ready for the next day.  He was so brave!  But at one point he looked at me and said, "Rachell, I'm so scared.  I'm so glad you're here."  I thought I was the only one who got scared.  People are people.

 

Another thing I learned is the importance of a smile.  You can change the direction of an entire interaction with a nice smile.  Sometimes it ends up going in a direction that you wish it hadn't.  But more often than not, the interaction changes in your favour. 

 

Your smile is so powerful.

I've officially been in Korea for more than a year.  I want cake or someone to sing to me or something.

 

If you run in to me, ask me to tell you a story.  I've got a good one, but I need practice saying it out loud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

World Cup fever has hit. I have never imagined such uniform, dedicated fans, and I have never desired more to wake up at 4:00AM, especially to watch a sporting event. It all truly is a religious experience...the reverence, the ritual...I never understood that until now.

This morning’s game was disappointing. Switzerland won 2-0. And, one of my newest crushes, #14 Lee Chun-soo, (three years older than me,) "will not be playing in the next match" because of yellow cards. (My students say he’s not as cute as some of my other pop culture crushes, but they’ve come to accept that I don’t always go for the status quo. Also, in a recent Internet poll, he was voted one of the most ugly soccer stars in the World Cup. I don’t understand it. It’s so sad.)

I said goodbye to my mom this week. She had been visiting for 2.5 weeks. It was a special time of rediscovering Seoul through new eyes, and doing things I wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t come here. For example, the Han River Ferry, or a purely Korean tour group trip to Nami Island. My Korean-American co-worker, who set the trip up for us, advised me to "make friends with the tour guide so you don’t get lost." I took her quite seriously, and of course became quite smitten by the end of the trip. ;) But at least I didn’t get lost.

The next few weeks will fly by. My dreams at night have reminded me that I actually worry about it quite a bit. Unless stopped by visa complications, I will be touring to North Korea next weekend. (Because my visa is expiring, I need 10 days of not having my passport on me to get a new one.) And...I need my passport, because I’m leaving Seoul July 14 to travel in Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia. This means handing over my class to another teacher. I’m just a bit emotionally attached to "my babies." Saturdays make me sad, even now, because I can’t see them.

But it won’t be "goodbye," because I get back to Seoul on August 6. I’ll be substitute teaching for three weeks before my newest contract ends on August 25. Then it’s back to Canada to hug my family and friends.

Hugging my family and friends is the most important thing. It’s been a while. (Though, I was lucky enough to experience a few hugs when my mom was here.) I want to go home, but the thought of leaving makes me very sad. I have just begun to truly love this country, and national pride is so pumped up right now...it’s a great place to be. I have come to love my students and my coworkers, and some of them love me, too. (Especially Kibin, one of my 4 year olds, who makes a heart shape with his hands and winks at me-"I love you, Teacher," whenever he gets in trouble.) Some days I think that I’m pretty good at this teaching thing, and I’m not quite sure if it’s all over yet...(sorry Mom.)

 

In a social experiment done by Elliot Aronson and his colleagues, the experimenters temporarily modified the self esteem of female college students. After taking a (false) personality test, a third of the women received positive feedback about their personalities, a third were given negative feedback about their personalities, and the rest were given no feedback at all.

Immediately afterwards, the students were scheduled to participate in another experiment, done by a different psychologist, that had no apparent relation to the personality tests. During this time, the students participated in a gambling game with the other students where the students bet money and they were able to keep the money that they won. During the game, the students were presented with some opportunities to cheat in a situation where it seemed impossible to be caught. The situation was created so that if the student decided not to cheat, she would certainly lose, but if she chose to cheat she would be certain to win a sum of money.

The results showed that the people who had previously received information designed to lower their self esteem cheated to a lot more than those who had received high self esteem information. The people who got no information, the control group, fell exactly in between.

 

I got this information from a book by Elliot Aronson called The Social Animal (New York: W.H. Freeman and Company, 1984). The reason why I decided to share it, is because I think that it is very important, and it hit me very hard when I read it.

Temporarily deflating people’s self esteem caused college students- women my age- to cheat more often. Imagine what the consequences of deflated self esteem over a life time would be! We might say that low self esteem is a root cause of people committing criminal or cruel acts.

As a teacher, in charge of nine small sponges every day, this has vitally important consequences. I should be doing everything possible to teach my children to respect and love themselves. Might this have an effect on their lives and their communities? I think that it will. My job is important, and I wonder if I have taken it seriously enough. I wonder if the multitudes of hagwan teachers are taking their jobs seriously enough?

Come to think about it, what about employers? Employers should be very careful not to humiliate their employees, even if for no other reason than to create a loyal group of workers. Even if an employer unintentionally humiliates an employee, he or she should be quick to make amends...

One does not desire employees who are more susceptible to cheating or committing cruel acts, especially when that employee directly affects the lives of small children.

Perhaps employers should invest time and energy in increasing the self esteem of their workers. Honest, kind people with high self esteem. That sounds like the kind of people with whom it would be good to work.

You may read in to this and think that I have recently been humiliated. I have not been humiliated.

That’s just what I was thinking about today.

Well, a new leg of my Korean journey has now begun.  I've moved in with my first "real" roommate (excluding Steph, my college roommate who was forced to live with me! ^^  We actually have to work out who will buy what)! 

 

Culturally, I think I've already stepped on a few toes...but it's worth it...for both of us.  I'm learning some more Korean, and getting a more authentic taste of what it's like to be in Korea.  When you work speaking English all day, hang out with English teachers at night, and live the rest of your time living by yourself...well, it's a bit different than having to relate to people who aren't fluent in your first language.   I'm really glad for this chance to get to know someone on quite a deep level.  Also, she's very much an extrovert.  Community will be good for someone like me.  I'm always afraid to end up like Syd the mountain man who worships wheels and doesn't talk to anyone but himself.  I naturally would go in that direction if my life situations and my knowledge of the Bible didn't force me to do otherwise.  The Bible says that community is very important, and it doesn't say a lot about wheels.

 

I had a good day with my Kindergarten class yesterday.  We made "clouds" by spraying hair mousse on OHP film after I read a story about clouds.  They thought it was pretty amazing.   

 

Well I should be off...

 

FYI, my contract ends July 10th, but I'll hopefully be traveling for a month or so.  I may stick around until the end of August.  Hope to see many of you then!