Beware the Yellow Dust!!!

So apparently in doing my pre-Korea research, I missed the part about there being yellow dust storms. (Please don't bother asking me "how" it is that I was able to overlook such a major aspect of the Korean climate, as I've already asked myself that same question too many times. Ah well, I'm here now!) As any red-blooded Korean will tell you, the dust migrates over from China, each spring, is a byproduct of China's sacrifice of trees for economic growth (Can't eat trees!) and it is beyond obnoxious. (The word "China" is italicized to illustrate the deep disdain that most Koreans feel towards China--and Japan, too, for that matter. When I innocently inquired as to why that is, I was told "Because China gives us the yellow dust and the Japanese STOLE our cherry blossoms!!" True story.) They will also tell you that it can make you sick when inhaled on days when the levels are particularly high, and that you should invest in (okay, so they only cost like 2 bucks) a face mask that covers your mouth and nose. (Which probably half-way explains why all the little babies in the park look like tiny surgeons!) When I actually did some research on the yellow dust storms (after an entire day of being fully exposed, no doubt), I found out that it can also irritate your eyes and skin. (Wait. Skin?? My pores are already plenty clogged, thank you very much. They will most certainly NOT be requiring any help from China...) From what I can tell, it doesn't really seem like a huge deal for anyone who is over the age of nine and under the age of 90, and who doesn't have any major problems with allergies. In fact, some days when the dust is at it's highest levels it's kind of cool to watch it (literally) blow through the trees. (I'm a dreamer, what can I say?) Well, at least I used to think that watching dangerous dust blow was cool, until I realized that that this "cool" dust is more closely related to the word "pollutant" than it is "fairy," and that its magical journey through the trees eventually ended in my eyes, nose, and throat. (And heaven forbid that I have to visit the ear, nose and throat doctor here again. The guy that I saw was wearing one of those creepy headbands with the big, metal disks in the front like you see in cartoons, his nurses were all silent and wearing shagadelic prints, and his medical apparatus looked like video games from the 80s! Plus he sent me out into the world (unbeknownst to me) with white stuff oozing from my ears. I aint goin' back! You can't make me!!) Being the rebel that I am, I underestimated the dust and spent an entire day at the park. By the end of the day, I could literally see it comfortably chill-laxin' (and I don't even like that word) in each of the individual curls in my hair, from root to tip. (No exaggeration.) It was then that I discovered that yellow dust wasn't to be taken too lightly. (I can only imagine how much dust I had actually inhaled, yikes. Good thing God created nose hairs!)

Despite my colorful (but accurate, none the less) depiction of the great annoyance that is "yellow dust," there is plenty of good news. First of all, the news (and U.S. military websites) issues daily forecasts and warnings to stay indoors during peak times. Second, there are still plenty of low-dust-level days, and it has yet to inhibit me from doing anything that I've wanted to do. Further, I'm told that, due to global warming, spring only lasts for a short time here anyway. (Hey, you can't have your cake and eat it too.) While some people have had some difficulties, I think that I can say that I really haven't been bothered by it in any major way so far.

If you ask my pores, they may tell a different tale, though.

Here, Hierarchy Rains...

There are some things that you just can't learn in the classroom. When I was in grad school, I took a course about managing the human resource aspect of different cultures. (Or maybe it was about managing multi-national corporations?? Yeah, something like that.) So of course I learned about the heavy emphasis placed on status in many Asian cultures, especially within the workplace. What they didn't tell me, however, was the fact that hierarchies exist within every.aspect.of.Korean.life..

A small digression about making friends:

Being the friendly little fairy that I am (and also being new to the country), I wanted to meet as many people as I could. While meeting fellow foreigners (I use this term because in Korea, anyone who's NOT Korean, despite his or her actual country of origin, is not only considered, but also called a "foreigner."), was no task at all, meeting Koreans of the same age is not as easy as walking in a bar and striking up a conversation. (There goes my plan!) This comes as no surprise at all when you consider the fact that they work insanely long hours, are painfully shy, and generally prefer to mingle with people who are already in their long pre-established circles. (When I asked my friend why she didn't bother to invite her good friend out with us so that she could meet another girl, who had just returned home to Korea after living in the U.S. for 7 or 8 or 10 years, she frowned and retorted, "but she doesn't know her." When I pointed out the fact that I (an obvious outsider) had been introduced to both girls, she politely explained that "Korean girls are shy to meet other Korean girls, but it's okay for you because you're a foreigner." Yeah...) In the end, every single Korean male or female that I have met thus far has been a result of my being introduced from another person, and that chain leads all the way to the first person that I met here (co-teachers don't count!): my neighbor. Kinda crazy when you think about it...

Okay, so you came here to hear about heirarchies. (Try saying that 10 times fast. Or not.) Well, it goes without saying that age is the number one thing that determines your daily life, from how you address the store clerk to the type of endings you use for your sentences to even which verbs that you use to describe a situation. (For example, if you want to say that someone is asleep or eating, the verb that you would use would depend on the age of the person completing the action. Con.fu.sing.)  So it's waaay deeper than the pultry "sir" and "ma'am" that we use in the West. Your age (determined by the lunar calendar, which already makes you older than you really are), goes so far as to determine even how you address your school mates and--get this--siblings?! Older and younger siblings get called by different names completely, and there are 4 different words that can be used to address your older siblings depending on the sex/gender (synonymous here) of both yourself and of the older sibling in reference!

Speaking of "referencing people," you usually don't call people by their name. (This includes family members and "friends," which further emphasizes how loosely Koreans use the word. For example, if you meet any random person and they discover that you are both the same age, they will very likely refer to you as their "friend," since no one is of higher status than the other person. Fortunately, many younger, more worldly, Koreans have taken to using American names, so as to get around the whole "my-friends-can't-call-me-by-my-name" thing when dealing with foreigners.) Rather, people are generally addressed by their status (or a combination of one of their names--can't remember which one right now, but one is acceptable and the the other is deeply offensive--and their status), which is why it's so important to know who's higher up in the food chain, during any social interactions. Which is how I quickly learned that when all of the younger Koreans that I encountered asked me my age (Why does the bartender, who is female by the way, really need to know how old I am? Same goes for the nice lady in the museum... Turns out it wasn't the good genes!), they were trying to determine our respective statuses, and thus, establish the roles of each party for the duration of our relationship, however short.


Or maybe they just really wanted to know how to refer to me while talking to their co-workers? "This distinguished person would like a mimosa" versus "That foreigner over there wants to know what time the exhibit closes." (Literal translation of actual words used.)



Call it tomato or tomahto, but in Korea, it's the difference between a mere drizzle and an outright downpour.

The Tale of the First School Dinner...

It is here where it would all begin..Where my outlook of my school, relationships, and of the entire Korean peninsula would be shaped, forever altered from what I initially believed to be true...

So I got word that we would be having our first (after) school dinner right before it happened (as is typical for being on the receiving end of information here). Given all the stories that I had heard about the mandatory, boring, dull, mandatory nature of these functions, I was naturally annoyed that I had to attend one. (As is the general nature of school functions that involve foreign teachers, the Korean staff converse amongst each other and the foreign teacher is largely ignored and left thinking, "Why am I even here??" ...Or the foreign teacher is the central talking point, which also leaves s/he wondering, "Why am I even here??") So this is what I was up against..Bring on the boredom!

So after an all-staff dodgeball game (which was actually pretty hilarious to watch--all these teachers wearing 4-inch platforms and scurrying away from the ball as though their very lives depended on it!), we go to an expensive Korean barbeque restaurant, where you cook the meat yourself at your own table, and the bottles of rice vodka (it's called "soju") and rice wine ("makalee") are seemingly innumerable. I, of course, was seated near Mrs. C initially, but after about an hour of watching her sip her one teeny, tiny shot of soju (drinking scares her, as does riding a bicycle--which is why she never learned to ride one) and listening to her chat incessantly about nothing to the other older ladies who were also seated at the table, I decided to go mingle with the other teachers, who seemed to be in a completely different world of joy and merriment. (This lone gesture would be the cause of all future drama surrounding this lady. No exaggeration.)

So I slide over to the "fun" table (quite literally, as we were all sitting on the floor, shoe-less), where my favorite/secret co-teacher is sitting, along with a few other (older) male teachers. As my co-teacher and I are chatting and enjoying the services, naturally, the men decide to join in on the conversation too (despite not actually speaking English). The computer teacher yells my name and suggests that we do a "love shot," and--as this is a purely "me, too" culture--then the music teacher suggests the same thing, followed by the teacher whom I affectionately refer to in my mind as "He Who Clicks," as, despite sitting next to him for months, I still lack any idea as to what it is that he teaches. In any case, he can always be found sitting stoically at his desk for extended periods of time clicking his mouse, slowly and methodically. (I guess I could just ask him what he teaches, but where's the fun in that??) So the laughter and "love shots" are flowing (saying "no" is considered deeply offensive), and all is good with the universe. Of course this didn't go unnoticed by Mr. S., who quickly came to make his presense known. He suggests that we do a shot (thankfully not of the "love" variety!), and then calls my name and yells that he is single. I smile and politely (always politely--these are some of the most sensitve humans on Earth) assert to him that he is, indeed, nothing of the sort. He then asserts, incredulously, that he is, and that he is actually "playboy," all the while patting his chest with both hands simultaneously. Seeing that ignoring his antics wasn't working, I then ask my co-teacher if Mr. S. is married, to which she replies with a straight face, "of course." So I just shake my head and pretend to be engulfed in eating cooked meat wrapped in leaves, hoping that he'll get bored and drop the subject, which he does. (In all honesty, I strongly believe that the fact that he remained so adamant about denying his marital status is rooted in a whole different issue unique to Korea called "weekend couples." It's too far off the subject to discuss here, but maybe I'll talk about it in a later post?) Naturally, as the jokes and flatteries are flowing, I spot Mrs. C. glaring over in my direction on several occasions, which I conveniently ignore. So goes the mingling and masticating, and alas, it's time to leave the restaurant.

The second phase of school dinner is the singing-room session, where a few private karaoke rooms are booked and filled with--yep, you guessed it--more alcohol. (Despite their love of public baths, Koreans are painfully shy when it comes to singing, speaking, or breathing in front other people, so the massive amounts of soju, makalee, and beer are as necessary as the very microphones used to sing!) So as we're walking to the singing room, Mrs. C. tells me that she felt "left out" while I was talking to my other co-teacher, all the while using the tone of a whiny three-year-old. Just as I am politely explaining to her the fact that it's not fair for me nor the other teachers for me to only talk to her all the time, someone yells my name and grabs my hand. Confused, I look up to see that it is none other than the very important man who presides over all of the school staff, third in rank (which is oh so important here) under the principal and vice principal. (Now not only does he not speak English, but he has probably been the least friendly of all the male staff since my arrival--very shy of course, but oftentimes pretending that I don't even exist!) So now I'm in a complete panic, as this is a culture where people don't even hug or shake hands as a form of greeting, and you NEVER touch someone who is your superior, ESPECIALLY if they are of the opposite sex (Translation: male). A few seconds pass, and I realize that he has no intentions of letting my hand go, and he is, instead, holding it and leading me in the direction of the singing room. Mortified and confused, I look around to see if there are any witnesses around to put an end to this awkwardness, and I spot Mrs. C., whose looks like she's just seen a ghost (as a woman and of lower rank, she was completely powerless to do anything about it), my favorite co-teacher (whose even more powerless) and, who but the very principal and vice-principal (the proverbial kings of the castle  school, and the only people who would have had the power to speak up). They, too, are wide-eyed and speechless, staring at me staring at them. Realizing that no one was going to do anything, and that I needed to make my discomfort obvious, I shake my head and put my hand over my face, and allow this man who I wasn't even sure liked me, lead me down the sidewalk and across the street while everyone watched in shock. (It's interesting to note that we--yes "we"-- nearly got hit by a car, as with his newly-found confidence, Mr. Closeted Cassanova (as I'll now refer to him) decided that he didn't need to wait for traffic to pass, and that, because he was holding my hand, he could instead just traverse the busy street and command oncoming traffic to stop by simply holding out his hand in front of the cars. Judging by the frowns on the faces of the drivers, I'm assuming that they didn't find my presence nearly as magical as he did, but--by the grace of God!--it worked, and we both walked away unscathed.)

 So we get to our destination, and (thank goodness for narrow staircases!) I am finally able to let go of Mr. Closeted Cassanova's hand (without being impolite). I quickly find my secret/favorite co-teacher, and everyone's singing and mingling (except for Mrs. C., who is now seething with envy), and enjoying the night. It gets a little blury here, but at some point as I'm hopping from room to room and rapping along to (upon their request for me to sing, of course) songs like Nelly's "Shake a Tailfeather" and Sean Paul's "We Be Burnin" (Side note: What the heck was I thinking, choosing those songs???! Thank heavens those people didn't speak English! AHAHAHAHAHA!!), a few other male teachers (whom I had never met/seen?) pull me aside and decide to practice their English by engaging in very basic conversations. Of course they also want to toast to something like every half of a second, but by now I'm used to it. As I'm taking to one teacher--out of the blue--Mr. Closeted Cassanova (Mr. CC) walks over and sits next to me. He then proceeds to interrupt the talking teacher's sentence (in Korean), and says something like "go away now." The talking teacher looks surprised, and then continues to talk to me, and then Mr. CC hurls mean Korean sounds (hey, it is a tonal language, after all!) toward him and--get this--proceeds to frown and wave his hand in front of his face rapidly as though he is waving away a pesky mosquito on a hot summer night. The talking teacher, being the obedient Korean public servant that he is (no, really--that's what Korean teachers are referred to as), grabs "his" drink (maybe he simply picked up someone else's old drink, no way to tell really) and walks away like an embarrassed puppy literally with his head down and his tail between his legs (okay, so maybe the tail part isn't literal, but you get the point). He didn't look at me or come anywhere near me for the rest of the night. O.o  Meanwhile, Mr. CC decides that he wants to "talk"...(Used lightly as he.doesn't.speak.English.) Yikes.

The remainder of the night goes on without as much fanfare as before. Mr. S is completely plastered (red face and all), and he has elected to use his turn to sing songs to me. (Maybe this is where he got the genius idea to sing Korean ballads to me later? I'll never know.) "He Who Clicks" is falling on his knees a lot (probably not a good look, on account of his oldness and all), and even through his inability to maintain his balance using only his own two legs (Why o why were humans cursed to be born with only two measely legs?? Tripods almost never lose their balance; surely there's something to be learned from them!), he retains his Korean-style, expressionless face. At some point Mrs. C, having had enough of my fraternizing, stormed off and left completely. (Though I can assure you, she wasn't missed.) At their request, I "sing" (Ha! I suck at singing!) one last song, choosing Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" with no pun intended at all, and then, it's time (Speaking of, what time is it anyway??) to go home.

As I'm waving down a taxi to share with a nice teacher whom I'd never met (but who apparently is aware that we are "neighbors"), I'm told that, upon Mr. S.' request, they would like to continue drinking elsewhere. They explain that by Korean standards, it is still early, and that the party is, in fact, just beginning. Luckily for me, a taxi has appeared (we'd been waiting for a while), and I run toward it while yelling slurred good-byes, ready for it to whisk me far away to my apartment. (Turns out the nice lady wasn't as inebriated and confused as I thought--we were indeed only a 5 minute drive away from home. Imagine that!) I enter my apartment and prepare for work the next day. It's only Tuesday....


The next day, all of the male teachers act strange around me, and generally try to avoid making any eye-contact with me at all. All except Mr. S., of course, who has no shame. He waltzes over to me and tells me that he has a headache and makes gestures indicating a stomach ache, too. I nod in understanding, though I am feeling fine. Mr. CC generally looks flushed and ashamed, and when I finally run-into the principal and vice-principal, they are in such shock with not knowing how I would be reacting that when I greet them they just stare at me with wide eyes, afraid to say a word.


(This would all pass of course, and a few days later, Mr. CC pulled a move from Mr. S.' figurative playbook and stood in my path so that I would have to speak to him. I did so and smiled, as I continued to walk to class with Mrs. C. (who was still bitter, but containing it for now). After we had passed him, Mrs. C. looked back and began to laugh. When I asked her what was so funny, she said, "after you say hi to him, he is only looking up at the sky and smiling.")

 We were indoors.

What's warm and wet and slimy all over?

It all started in a bar in an undisclosed beach town...

(Or maybe it started a few days before that, when my attempts to quell Mrs. C's infatuation finally came to a head, leading to an all-out disagreement in a culture where both disagreement and confrontation are shunned. I stopped short of saying, "You do not get to be obsesssed with me!", instead vying for the more diplomatically fool-proof "cultural differences" line. She didn't like that one bit, as openly acknowledging the fact that we are from different cultures calls attention to the fact that we are, indeed, different people, and that I was NOT, in fact, birthed from her body.)

Either way, I ended up in a city with a beach and far enough away from her smothering obsession. Despite being exhausted, I'm dancing the night away and having fun with my Korean female friend and her friend, who has just returned  home to Korea after having lived in the States for something like 7 or 8 or 10 years. So time passes and it's some insanely late hour and I feel myself growing increasingly fatigued. I decide to sit down in the very crowded, chaotic bar in hopes getting my energy back and after a few minutes of resting. Although my intentions for this were far from literal, at some point I began to doze off. (Not in full, REM sleep, but merely a quick, recharging "nappette" if you will.) As I'm enjoying my "nappette," (all two minutes of it), I begin to become conscious of a strange sensation on the right side of my face, precisely in the region of my cheek and the corner of my mouth: warm, slow, and decidedly slimy. Realizing that it wasn't going away, and that it was in fact, migrating steadily closer to my lips, I open up my eyes to find a small, spectacle-wearing Korean man-boy licking the side of my face with the passion and intensity of romance novel, eyes closed, probably oblivious to the fact that my eyes were now open. Frozen speechless, confused, and still drowsy from having been asleep just 10 seconds ago, I go against my character 1000% and do....absolutely nothing. As luck would have it, my Korean friend had been keeping an eye out, and, upon seeing this, she immediately ran over and in one fluid motion, yelled at the offender (using Korean swear words, I'm sure, as she loves English ones!), pushed him away from me, and grabbed me up. He disappears at once, never to be seen (Ha! I couldn't pick the guy out of a line-up even if I tried!) or, umm...felt from again. (In such a polite culture, you would think that the guy would have at least left a tip?? Oh, wait, they don't tip here. Nevermind.)  As for me, I'm now fully awake. "Dance floor!" I proclaim.



Something about having foreign saliva methodically slathered on your face being rather rejuvenating....Who knew?!

(Coming Soon!) "The Sun is Falling!"

(Coming Soon!) Korean Speakers Need Not Apply...

(Coming Soon!) The Bubble Effect

Random (but Real!) Statements Made to Me...

(To be updated periodically..)


A fellow co-teacher and I are walking together and chatting, and I see Mr. S close behind. As we turn the corner, I intentionally speed up, so as to avoid having to come in direct contact. Being a man on a mission (and over 6 feet tall), he catches up to us AT THE EXACT moment that I am making a comment to my co-teacher that her habit of helping her farmer parents on the weekend is not "eccentric"--as she puts it--but "very cute." From behind me I suddenly hear him reply: "I.think.YOU.are.very.cute." My co-teacher laughs and, without turning around, I laugh nervously, mutter "thank you," and scurry towards my desk, grateful that it's Friday!


 Adorable, young teacher to me: "You have egg-shape head. My head is like moon. I envy you."

Ah-ha! So somebody in this world thinks that having an egg-shaped head is worthy of envy! Wait until I tell my 6-year old nephew about this! :P




Mrs. C.: "Is it more common to say, 'period pain' or 'menstrual pain'?"
Me: O.O    "Well....you can say either one."
Mrs. C.: (pauses) "Well, I have began taking Korean medicine herbs for menopause a few days ago. Three times per day"

Me: Wonders how my life will be improved as a result of learning such ground-breaking information. "Ooh...Um, so how are they working??"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, very well!" (smiles)





 "Goodbye. I will miss you."

-Said by teeny, tiny, bald, important male figure at my school, in preparation for the coming three-day weekend. He then proceeded to reach down and stick his fingers inside of the small bag that contained the sandwich that I had been eating for lunch, and sniffed his fingers in an attempt to investigate its contents.



Very heavy student approaches me before class.

"Hello, teacher. Today, I have stomach ache. When I get home, I will take a big plop."

 (Proceeds to make a physical gesture of the word "plop" by making a fist and then allowing her hand to go limp.)


Why oh why must I be so cursed as to be born with such a VISUAL mind??? O.o







Mr. S talks to Mrs. C in Korean about everything that we could do on a date. Thankfully, she doesn't translate this time, but unfortunately, I now understand...

Two weeks later...

My co-teacher and I are walking from class, chatting. Mr. S suddenly appears behind us, speaking to said co-teacher in Korean about how pretty/stylish I am. Being the innocent soul that she is, she dutifully translates. Without looking back, I smile nervously, say "thank you," and proceed to speed walk so as to get away from this very annoying man. Dude, you've told me these things in both English and Korean at least 100 times since my arrival. Go awaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.






"Many students have dyed their hair from black to dark brown during summer vacation, but they will have to dye it back or they will get into trouble, because they must all look similar for school uniform."

-Co-teacher. Why even bother having me try to memorize individual names??





"I am worried about my face!!"

-Multiple students' responses after I asked them what their biggest worries were, in reference to the topic of the lesson for that day.





Sirens sound.
Mrs. C: "This is an alarm for us to learn what to do if there is an attack on Korea. It is very likely that if Korea is attacked, it will happen here." Smiles.
Me: O.O
Mrs. C. continues to chat gaily about the weather, completely ignoring the announcement. The students talk amongst themselves, completely apathetic.
Me: "Shouldn't we be listening to the instructions??? What do we do if there's an attack??? "
Mrs. C.: Laughs. "Oh, nooo. Even if it is in Korean, I am not paying attention." Giggles.
Me: But what about the evac...u...ation...   inst....ruct...ions....







"You're ugly."

-Okay, so maybe this wasn't said to me, but it was, however, said to a fellow foreigner with whom I was working at a program for kids. As she was saying goodbye, this was the response that she received from one of the boys as he looked her square in the eyes. The fact that said foreigner is also physically incapable of producing tears makes this all the more sad..







Leaning toward me and whispering: "Frankly speaking, I.don't.give.a.s**t." (Blushes.) "I'm so sorry for saying that!"

-My favorite co-teacher, in reference to a random attack on her launched by Mrs. C. When we met, I told her that she was free to admit her real feelings to me, rather than simply pretending to always be okay, as her culture dictates. Oops!





"I never go to the beach because skin is black with sun. Only stay inside."

-A student, in response to my inquiry about her going to the beach on the weekends. This thinking probably explains the fact that Korean children on the whole have very weak bones, and an abnormal amount of Korean children and adults wear glasses. No sun=no vitamin D!
(Update: this same student recently told me that she went to the beach for summer vacation. Guess she got bored sitting at home!)




Mr.S walks around in a circle, clearly trying to get my attention. I concentrate as hard as possible on reading the unimportant information on my computer screen, so that he'll go away. Fake concentration attempt succeeds, and he walks away slowly. The next day he comes back, more determined. Sits down at the temporarily empty desk next to me, and begins to strike up a CONVERSATION. (A very simple conversation, but a conversation, no less. Yep, he's beginning to learn English, nooooooooo!!!) In his English studies, he's learned some very, uh, interesting phrases. He tells me that he's tired from drinking everyday as a hobby, and then asks me to go on a date with him on Sunday to drink and climb a mountain. Since I can no longer pretend not to understand his advances, I smile nervously, thank him for the offer (so as not to lose face), and tell him that I'm busy on Sunday. (Whether or not I actually am being completely irrelevant!) He smiles and says that it's "okay, because maybe Sunday will rain." I agree eagerly, and then suggest that he try reading books as a new hobby....Yiiiikkkkeeess!





Student: "Teacher, you're very beautiful," (At this point I just smile and shake my head. The level of vanity here FAR surpasses anything I've seen anywhere--including Latin American countries.) "Do you think that Ahseeahn girls are beautiful?"
Me: "Ahseeahn? I don't understand."
Student: "You know, Ahseeahn girls." Student proceeds to pull the corner of her eyes back, then up, then down. "Chinese, Japanese, Korean people."
Me: "Ooooh, Asian girls!" My eyes light up at the opportunity to, alas, give my all-nationalities-are-beautiful-despite-being-different speech. " Students smile with relief.
Different student: "Oh no, I already change my eyes!?"
Me, playfully: "It's okay, but no more surgery on your face, okay?"

I'm not sure if my words will actually deter her, or the other students in that class, from undergoing more cosmetic surgery in the future, but I'm estatic that my opinion was finally solicited by the students on the subject. Sadly, I've met Korean women on multiple occassions (my favorite co-teacher included), who, upon receiving my compliments about their individual beauty, have looked at me with a shocked/sad expression and told me that NO ONE has ever told them that they were attractive. (Interestingly enough, none of the women had ever had cosmetic surgery.) Many of them said that, on the contrary, they were actually told repeatedly that they were ugly, namely by their close family members. Heavy stuff...




Me, cheerfully: "How are you today, class?"
Student: "Teacher, I want DIE!"
Me, thinking about the outrageously high suicide rate here and worried: "Why??"
Student: "Because weather is cloudy today. I WANT DIE!!"
Me, reassuringly: "I'm sure the sun will be out again tomorrow, so you don't need to die!" Smile.
Student: Stares at me blankly and shakes her head slowly, as though I am missing the point.





Mrs. C.: "The weather is very nice today."
Me: "Yes, it is."
Mrs. C.: "I know that you like warm weather."
Me: "Yes, I do."

(10 second pause)

Mrs. C.: "Constipation is the opposite of diarrhea, right?"
Me: (pause) "Yes."

(10 second pause)

Mrs. C.: "Well, you know, lately I've been having some problems with constipation for the last two weeks. I really try and try--"
Me: "Ummm, I'm going to teach you three letters that we use in the United States during situations like this one: TMI."

(I give a thorough explanation of the meaning and use of the phrase and acronym.)

Mrs. C. laughs. "Oh, I see. I am so ashamed. But as you know it is very common to talk about that in Korea."
Me: "I know, but I am not interested in talking about those things, and in the U.S., it is not a common conversation starter. You don't have to be ashamed; you didn't know."
Mrs. C: "Really?? I see..."
Me: O.O "Today's lesson is about food. I like food."







Spoken to me in English: "Let's take a birthday picture!"
Spoken to the Korean teachers, in Korean: "Many people in the United States will think that I am her boyfriend in this picture!"

-A random male Korean teacher whom at first sight looked almost, half-way, sort of, nearly, kind of like a Korean version of Tyson Beckford. Then I caught him at his true angle and his body suddenly took the form of an old, widowed, Russian dairy farmer/ bearer of 30 live births.



"Today is your birthday?? Congratulations!!!"

-Various teachers




"YouTube do.you.want.DIE???!"

-A female student who was a little upset with the fact that YouTube wasn't loading fast enough. When it comes to technology, Koreans don't mess around!!



"Teacher, what are you DOING??!"
Me: "I'm writing the names of your teams on the board."
Student, pleadingly: "Teacher, PLEASE do not use the color red pen to write my name on the board!!"
Me: ???? "What's the problem with red?"
Student: "In Korea, if you write a name in red then the person will DIE!"

I look around to see the affirmative nods of the entire class, including the Korean co-teacher.

Me: "Okay, I understand. So what does writing in blue or black ink mean?"
Students and co-teacher laugh as though thoroughly amused. "Teacher, it means nothing. It is only a pen color."



Student with whom I'm very familiar attempts to place her tea-filled water bottle against my lips. I smile and politely decline.
Student gets annoyed: "OH MY GOD, TEACHER! WHY??"
Me: "Because I am not thirsty right now, but thank you!" Smile.
Student replies, angrily : "Oh my GOD!!!" Stares at me in utter angst and disbelief.


This happens all.the.time. SO much that, most times when some student, or teacher, or random person at the bus stop (not uncommon!) hands me any sort of food I just smile, eat it, and pass the buck to my immune system and God. Koreans get really upset when a person refuses a gift, especially food, given the fact that they were all farmers like 20 years ago ( actually, they prefer not to be told "no" in general), and rather than offend or hurt any feelings (everything is internalized--it can never be that you're really just not hungry at the moment), I just take it. (Now you see the significance of my "Seriousness of Sharing" post. Saying "no" to a well-meaning Korean is no easy task!)




"Teacher, your face is very small!!"
Me: "Ummmm, thanks??"

(I quickly realized that this is considered a HUGE compliment here, as the Korean standard of beauty is "Western" to a point of exaggeration. They all want " the beeg eye, and small pace," or, big eyes and a small face, and it is a prerequisite for beauty, as explained to me by multiple young and middle-aged women. Plastic surgery here is akin to going to the dentist to get a cavity filled. Of course I initially attempted to challenge this thinking, but I soon realized that it was causing more harm than good. Now, I just respond, simply, "I like your face, too" or "Your eyes are also beautiful, without double eyelids." Then I RUN, fast, so as to avoid the inevitable argument about how misplaced my compliments towards them are!)



"I want to go to the United States, but I am very scared, because the news says that Americans have many guns everywhere, so I do not want to get shot."
-A middle-aged man with whom I was conversing.

Well, there you have it, folks...




"My son is easily humiliated."

 -My favorite co-teacher, in reference to her 5 year-old son. Me: "Noooooo! Lady, please, please, pleeease STOP conditioning your children to be so easily 'humiliated,' lest anyone who ever encounters them as adults have to walk on perpetual eggshells so as to avoid hurting their feelings, a.k.a losing 'face'!!"

Okay, so I didn't really say that, but oh how I wanted to!




"Drink and DIE!!!"

Nope, not a public service announcement, nor an insult. Just something that a new Korean girl (with excellent English) that I met said to me within 5 minutes of my meeting her.

(Yeah...I think I'm just gonna stick with the good, old-fashioned "Carpe Diem." Thanks though!)



Student interrupts lesson: "Teacher, OH MY GOD!!"
I stop teaching and swirl around to face student: "What's wrong??"
Student, looking with eyes wide open: "Your HEAD is so SMALL!?"
I look confused, and slowly begin to examine my head with my hands. With a straight face, I reply: "Oookay. What does that mean?"
Student angrily replies: "Oh my God, I want small head. My head is so beeg!"
I smile, sigh and tell her that her head is fine. She argues that it is indeed, not. I resume my explanation of the future tense..

(For the record, my head has NEVER been referred to as small. Ever. Ever. Ever.)



I am having an enjoyable (not so easy to come by!) conversation with my "secret" co-teacher (see other post, A Tale of Two Obsessions). She abruptly stops speaking and starts smiling from ear-to-ear. I notice that she is no longer looking me in the eyes, but looking above my eyes.
Me: "What's wrong??"
Her: "You have a quite good forehead. In Korean culture foreheads are important. My mother says that a woman's forehead is her most important feature. My forehead is not good, only so-so. My daughter's forehead protrudes, and my son is only 5 but he tells her that she looks strange. This means that you are lucky."
Me: O.o



Large group of students are huddling in the shade under a very small tree during an emergency drill. I ask what they are attempting to hide from.
Student screams, "Ahh, because teacher, I hate black skin! No, white skin, white skin, I LOVE YOOOU!!" (Calms down.) "But black skin, very SEXY" and proceeds to make a gesture of a woman with an hour-glass figure, followed by a thumbs-up gesture in my direction.
Me: O.o


While attending one of the infamous Korean school dinners, I notice that everyone is getting what the youngins in the States would call, ahem...wasted. Suddenly, Mr. S (see "A Tale of Two Obsessions" post) yells my name, pats his chest rapidly and says, "I am single!"
Me, embarassed: "You are not single."
Mr. S.: "Yes, I am!!"
Mr. S' superior (the same man who smiled as Mr. S. sang to me): "He is playboy. And I am playboy."
Me: Instinctively bury my face in my co-teachers jacket, the only place where I feel safe..

(Same school dinner.)
Random male teacher yells my name: "Hey! Let's do love shot!"
(Love shot=twisting your arm around another person's prior to drinking.)



Mr. S' superior whispers: "I want you to stay in Korean forever, and I can help you."



Mrs. C (if you haven't already, just read "A Tale of Two Obsessions" already! lol) attempts to call me early on a Saturday morning while I am sleeping in. I call her back later to inquire about her motive for calling me.
Mrs. C.: "Hiiiiiiii."
Me: "You called me earlier?"
Mrs. C.: "Oh, yes, but you didn't answer, and I am very sad."
Me: "Oh yeah. I was unavailable at the time. Do you need something?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "Noo, I only called because I was thinking about you as I took a walk along the riverside. It always makes me think about you."
Me: "Really? That's very nice, but why? We have never taken a walk along the riverside together?"
Mrs. C. laughs. "I always think about you."
Me: O.O



After the what happened at the infamous school dinner (other post), we have a staff picnic. Mr. S' superior gestures toward his own boss, another important (male) figure in the school (This is Mr. CC!!) who, at the moment, is handing me a cucumber slice dipped in red pepper paste, and says, "He's hot. He's hot for you!" Important male figure smiles shyly and walks away. This "woman of color" is now color-less.



Me: Whistling (so as to avoid having to actually converse while walking)
Mrs. C., dreamily: "When you whistle, you sound like a little bird..."
Me: O.o  (I'm not even that good a whistler...)



"I think that you have many talents. Because you are good at whistling and riding bike."
-Mrs. C.


I compliment a young, cute teacher on her hair, which really does look nice. (Nothing fancy, of course. Simple blow-out).
Her: Laughs hysterically, covers her mouth and points toward me, mockingly. (Speaks next to no English.)
Me: ??????
Her: "I think you need glasses! My hair is FAIL!" Proceeds to laugh hysterically as though something is wrong with me.
Me: O.o ???????

A Tale of Two Obsessions...

Given that Korea is easily one of the least culturally diverse countries in the world (they boast about the fact that they're "one race"), I was slightly unnerved at how I would be received as a woman of color. After asking a few people and doing some research, I got somewhat conflicting information about: (A) How Koreans feel about people of color; (B) How Koreans who inhabit smaller cities (such as where I would be residing) view people of color, and (C) How I would be treated as a result. After actually arriving however...Well, let's just say that my experience has been quite the surprise.

When I originally arrived (on a weekend), I wandered the streets without incident. I experienced no overt (and I would even argue covert, as Koreans generally aren't interested in hiding their true feelings about a person) disgust with my presence, and it was almost as though I was so different that no one cared. (Aside from the occasional kids and old ladies who wanted to say "hello" and have their pictures taken with me, mind you.) Of course I was elated, and I quickily relayed this information to my friends back home, and entered my new workplace with all the positivity of a newly-born unicorn. That's when things started to get interesting.

You see, while random passers-by on the crowded streets pretended to be impervious to my presence (yep, I soon figured that out), the entire staff was instantly in complete awe at my existence. While initially overwhelming for me, I treated it as a minor thing, as I had been told that being a foreigner in South Korea meant ample attention (shutters). So what every single teacher (despite their actual ability to speak English, in which case, they suddenly started learning English!) wanted to have lunch with me and take me out to dinner? I should just be happy that they're so welcoming! Well, given their competitive nature, and the very blatant fact that I am, still, only one person, certain characters who felt that since they were at the top of the food chain began to feel as though I should only be spending my time with them, and thus, limiting my time with the other staff members who wanted to get to know me. Enter "Mrs. C." and "Mr. S."...

"Mrs. C" (completely made-up name, of course), you see, is my main co-teacher. She's about 50 years old, and from what I could tell initially, she was one of the sweetest ladies that I had ever encountered. She went above and beyond the parameters of her position to accomodate me, and for this I am eternally (well, maybe not eternally) very grateful. So life was all sunshine and smiles until she noticed that other teachers had also taken an interest in getting to know me. Once she saw that I had began to form close relationships with other teachers (and thus couldn't dedicate all of my spare time (this includes weekends) to being with her, she declared an all-out war against all parties involved. Literally overnight, I had gone from being an excellent teacher to a horrible one. If the offending teacher was one of her subordinates (hierarchy reigns here), then they were subjected to constant criticism and general negativity. My conversations with said teachers were rudely interrupted by her. Teachers who did not speak English well (or really, at all) were told, "you don't speak English" in an attempt to humiliate and deter them from communicating with me. After mentioning to ALL of my co-teachers the fact that our computer had been broken for weeks, one person finally had it repaired. Upon discovering this, she said,"but that's MY job. I will have it repaired again." One day I came to work, and she presented me with a pair of earrings that she had purchased for herself four years prior while visiting Australia. When I assured her that she didn't need to keep giving me things, especially not her prized Australian accessory, she replied in a dreamy tone, "But I knew from the moment that I saw you that I wanted to give these earrings to you. You're perfect..." Yiiiiiiiikkkkeeees, lady. She then launched into a soliloquy about how she was unable to bear children (definitely difficult to swallow in Korean culture), and how she and her husband kept trying and trying and trying--LADY! Spare me the visuals, please! And how she thinks (so of course, ALL Korean women must all also think the same thing) that adopting children is bad luck, because a monk told her so. She then said that there are strange people in every culture (referencing herself, of course), and alluded to the fact that since she couldn't conceive children of her own, she thinks that I was sent here to be her "child." Once, when I was caught laughing and chatting excessively with a fellow co-teacher, she waited until later that night and called me to say that she felt left out (uuummm perhaps that's because the conversation didn't involve you!) and that I had to "choose between the two of them." (That teacher and I have now decided to hide our friendship and plan secret meetings. Sigh.) The stories about this lady abound, but for the sake of my sanity, let's move on to "Mr. S.," shall we?

"Mr. S" is also a staff member. What exactly it is that he does remains a mystery to me, largely due to the fact that: A) professional titles are very inflated here, and B) everyone has multiple titles. (So that means that everyone is the "head of" something, and the school accountant will also be in charge of sweeping the gym, preparing the meals, and tuning the musical instruments, among other things.) All I know is that he deals directly with the students (Head of Students, perhaps?). Well he and Mrs. C are alike in that both have taken an extreme liking to me. His portfolio: complimenting me daily, even if there's nothing to compliment ("You, woooow." English ability next to none, by the way.); making his presence known (Read: leaving his desk and walking all the way to the other side of our very large shared work room) whenever another male staff member attempts to converse with me; telling me (in Korean and around other teachers, mind you) that we should go drink Korean rice wine together on a rainy day (Never mind the fact that we can't communicate!); getting inebriated at a school dinner (soooo much more on this in a later post! But drinking is synonymous with work here.) and proclaiming to be "single" and "a playboy" (the former is not true, don't know about the latter); knowing that I was sick even before I knew it myself after having studied me (umm, clearly!) intensely during the first 3 months that I had lived here (CrEeEePy!!!); singing a ballad (in front of Mrs. C. and one of his bosses--male, no doubt) in Korean about how beautiful/pretty/cute I am, while I died of embarassment and they laughed and smiled with admiration; realizing that I had been avoiding him, and subsequently conspiring with Mrs. C. to treat me to lunch, despite the fact that I had declined the offer. (When we got to the restaurant, the entire.conversation.consisted.of.the.two.of.them.complimenting.me, in two languages! BoRiNg. At some point they even asked what type of man I liked, with Mrs. C. even gesturing toward Mr. S. and saying, "he's very handsome, right?")

Despite not being at the top of the food chain, this guy gets away with murder, and his antics are usually praised! Why??? My guess is that because in this EXTREMELY image-conscious and male-dominated culture, he's considered an idol. Tall, attractive, and charismatic, and male. So with all these things, he's free to be "worried about me even though he's married," as one of my co-teachers (who's an older lady!?) giggled and told me one day. Why even translate that??