Read From the Beginning

An email we got today from Matthew:

Forgot to say this before... I guess that this is mostly for Marisa, since I couldn't dissuade Jordan, but here goes anyway:

Don't eat jellyfish.

(In my case, I had no idea what it was---it was whitish, translucent, stringy, and sort of viscous-looking, but that description applied to half of the things on the table, and I assumed that like the others it was some kind of plant starch or obscure vegetable or fruit or even ginseng with something funny done to it. But it was actually jellyfish.)

Um. In Korea it's only considered good if it still stings.

It STINGS.

So don't eat it.

(Intentionally burning yourself with spicy foods is odd enough to me, but intentionally stinging yourself with jellyfish poison? No matter how mild the poison is, this seems weird.)

---Matthew

PS: The Koreans told me that it was a Japanese dish. That's true, but I have never ever heard of the Japanese leaving bits of the tentacles in so that it stings you... they just spice it with miso and stuff.

I'm not kidding here. In Korea, don't eat jellyfish.

My students this week were excited and thrilled to study "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson. This made for much amusement all around, whether from the enthusiastic whoops from the pop singer (imitated by the more daring in the class) or for me when I asked "who is the man in the mirror?" and received answers such as, "Michael Jackson!" or "poor people!" ("when you look in the mirror, do you see poor people?") When I was planning this lesson I didn't stop and spend much time on the choice of song, not fully realizing at the time that I would have to listen to the song about 300 times this week. The decision came mostly from a song that related to "how to change the world" and since everyone here knows Michael Jackson, I figured this was a good bonus (I don't think here in Korea they know much about his crazy side). Luckily for me, I have actually grown more fond of the song as I've listened to it. I hope to be so lucky next time I pick a song, as fill in the blank lyrics seems to be a big hit with the students. Even when the computer is broken and I must recite the lyrics, the class is still mesmerized into silence (in fact they are quieter when I read than when we listen). Perhaps I have a voice like my Intro to Bible prof, who no matter what he was talking about always put me to sleep instantly. I'm convinced it was the tone and cadence of his speaking, and the fact that is was at 8 in the morning. In any case, I felt a bit like the musician who tamed the wild beast when I read aloud, as the previously rowdy, obnoxious class became so quiet you could hear a pin drop (aside from my recitation).

The only other excitement of my week has been deciding that Gunsan must be the aberration of Korea because I believe we only have nice old people here. We have heard from various sources that the old women in Korea are something to be feared and avoided. Apparently they have no thought for the people around them and are quite ruthless when it comes to standing in line, walking on the street, or doing just about anything else. This being said, I have not experienced any of this mean old lady business. In fact I have only experienced very nice old ladies on the bus. One I met was quite worried that I get a seat on the bus and kept tugging on my shirt until I obliged and sat in a recently opened seat. And yesterday as I was standing at the bus stop in a little drizzle with only my raincoat, an old lady came up and shared her umbrella with me as we waited for the bus. There was also an old man on the bus who was determined to give me his seat, despite my deferrence (the buses in Korea are quite wild and it's all I can do to keep my balance as the bus jerks around, and I didn't want to be responsible for an old man falling over), he prevailed (and I think was more steady on his feet than I am) and proceeded to have a conversation with me in English. I'm not sure if a conversation is a good trade for a seat on the bus, but we both seemed pleased at the arrangement, so I guess in this case everyone was a winner. So I sit in wait of meeting my first mean old lady, but strongly believe that Gunsan is the land of nice old people.

Yesterday, Jordan and I had the pleasure of being invited by my co-teacher Ms Park to her home in Jeonju. We met her and her carpool at my school around 12:30 (since all the Korean have school on Saturday for some reason, apparently they just have clubs on Saturday). Jeonju is about an hour drive from Gunsan and there are three teachers, including Ms Park, who share the commute everyday. We got dropped off at Ms Park's new apartment (very large) and then left with her daughter for lunch. Her daughter is currently in the midst of applying to Seoul National University (the Harvard of Korea) and if she gets in, Ms Park is going to have a big party. I have it on good authority that the daughter (her name was never disclosed) is very smart, always at the top of her class, so I guess she has a good shot.

We went to lunch in the downtown at a Vietnamese restaurant. At first we thought she was taking us to a "vitamin house," but eventually figured out that she meant Vietnamese. I guess foreigners like Vietnamese food (we like it quite a lot) so she took us there. Jeonju is about twice the size of Gunsan, and so has luxuries like Vietnamese food. We had some very tasty noodles and dim sum (although dim sum is Chinese....) and then took a little walk around the downtown. We have become very curious since visiting Matthew and now Jeonju to find our downtown because everywhere we have visited has had very nice pedestrian only shopping districts with lots of exciting things. So one of these days we must venture out and see if we can find the Gunsan downtown.

The day was completely freezing despite having started out as a warm day, so we hustled through our next tour of the traditional village in Jeonju. It was a very cute place with lots of traditional houses filled with shops, restaurants and museums, as well as some really old buildings that were once the spiritual capital of the Joseon dynasty. The first king of this dynasty came from Jeonju, so it has a bit of fame. It was really cold though, so we hurried back after a little tour to Ms Park's house.

She had just moved apartments about a week ago, but her home looked remarkably organized, and she gave us a pleased tour of her very large apartment. It makes our apartment look like tiny place. I also saw the kimchi fridge, where the family keeps their year's supply of kimchi. Apparently all Koreans have a kimchi fridge, I don't know where ours is, and since it's kimchi making time, they are all full to bursting. At dinner we were able to taste both fresh kimchi and fermented kimchi made by Ms Park's mother, which was much better than the stuff we're served at school. Apparently over 20 seasonings go into the kimchi when it's being prepared, so there's a big range in taste. Since Jordan liked the kimchi so much, we were sent home with a large quantity of our own to put in our normal fridge, since we don't have a kimchi fridge. The phenomena of kimchi is quite amazing. Who would think that there would be a whole race of people completely addicted to eating at every single meal spicy, fermented cabbage. If you told me I had to eat spicy, fermented cabbage at every meal for the rest of my life I would think it was a severe punishment. But to the Koreans, a day without kimchi is like a day without air, unthinkable.

Ms Park had determined that she would teach me how to cook like a Korean, so I helped her with dinner. Although many of the things seemed to have been premade by her mother and we just dumped them into a pot. So, I guess I have to convince my mom to come over and start making things so that I can cook like a Korean. We made a tasty chicken stew, and some beef bulgogi (which I think is a mushroom sauce). I also made a salad and we roasted some hot dogs (which I think were just there for me and Jordan, but there was so much food we could hardly eat it). The highlights of the dinner were probably either when I started flinging food around with my chopsticks (despite my normal ability to eat like a normal person with them) or when Jordan thought the teapot full of Soju (watered down vodka) was water. Jordan also proved his manliness to everyone at the table by eating the hot peppers that Mr Park was eating (we call him Mr Park because he was never introduced to us beyond being Ms Park's husband, and I don't actually think women change their name upon marriage here, but for want of something to call him we call him Mr Park). After eating the first spicy pepper, Ms Park had to find the even hotter peppers in the freezer, to give Jordan the ultimate test. Luckily for me, I think being a girl keeps me from having to partake in such manly contests, as no one but Jordan thought I should taste the pepper. And since Jordan puts on such a good show with his pepper eating, I didn't want to ruin it by having a panic when I ate one.

Ms Park had invited over her English teacher friend as well, so we passed a very pleasant evening discussing many different things, from Michael Jackson and Obama, to the phrase "who cut the cheese" (which apparently Jordan has never heard, please tell him this is weird). All the English teachers here like talking to us because we are very easy to understand (thanks to our Midwest upbringing I always tell them) unlike the newscasters on CNN whom they can't understand. It was a very nice, relaxing evening, aside from my flying food, and Ms Park has determined that next time we come we will spend the night in her extra bedroom and we will teach her to make pizza.

This is a secret video that Jordan took of the cooking excitement while loafing on the couch.

To see more picture from the trip, visit the album at flickr.

Today I realized that I knew a Korean word. I was in class with Miss Doo having big excitement with some listen and repeat exercises when I heard her say, "chumbi." "Chumbi" I think to myself, I know that word, and I am transported to the days when I was in karate. A vague memory floats back to me of how all the words we used were Korean, and "chumbi" is the only one I still remember. And I'm glad to say that my American karate teachers did not lie to me, and it does mean exactly what they said: ready. (Erica used to be a superstar at chumbi, be sure to ask her to demonstrate next time you see her.)

The school is in a frenzy getting ready for exams next week. This means for me that while everyone else is working really hard and getting stressed, I am sitting around with nothing to do. They don't really test the kids on what I do, I'm just here for entertainment. So when things are serious, like at exam time, I just sit at my desk and play computer Mah Jong. My Thursday and Friday classes have been canceled, since the kids have to prepare for next week's tests, so I'm looking at an empty week before a week half days. I knew I always liked exams. The only bummer is that my desk is right in the main doorway of the main office, so everyone and their brother walks by and checks out what I'm up to (playing Mah Jong, watching "How I Met Your Mother" or something else equally useless, listening to audio books on the iPod, typing up blog entries (which I tell myself looks useful because at least I'm typing something)). (I can put a parenthesis in a parenthesis because my high school English teacher told me that once you learn to write, you can break all the rules, so I like to think that at some point I reached the pinnacle and can now do whatever I want.) And the students seems to think that my space is their space and stick their faces right up to my screen to see what I'm up to. So I've had to stop watching "Dawson's Creek" at school because sometimes it's a little sketchy.

After exams we have about a week and half of school. I asked Ms Park what we do with this time, since the semester is kind of over as the kids will have had their final exams, and she said that we will teach them things, but with a worried look on her face said, "sometimes they are hard to control." "Really?" I say with mock disbelief, and think to myself, my mom has a certain phrase she uses in a situation like this, but I have not progressed enough to use it, and if I did I would get an email from my Dad saying it wasn't appropriate. So I'll just think it to myself and you can wonder on your own about the mystery phrase.

On a side note, the students here a geniuses. They can spell 'hundred.' I couldn't spell hundred until I went to college. And Miss Doo can spell exercise. I didn't learn that one until class today.