The circle of gratitude.

So just in case any of you couldn't tell, I kind of like writing. I like writing blog posts. I like writing papers. (Yes...actually, I do.) I like writing letters, reports, journals, book reviews, love letters, post-it notes, and thank-you cards.

This semester I wrote thank-you notes to all of my teachers. Why? Because at the beginning of the semester I felt like a freshman again. I had to rebuild all the trust and report I've spent 3 years building with my professors at TTU. At first it was frustrating. I felt marginalized and unimportant. When I couldn't print my midterm paper for one of my classes (see my last post...) I was extremely stressed. This professor doesn't know me - he doesn't know that I really did have it done and that I tried for an hour to print it! But then I got my grade, and he hadn't taken any points off for turning it in 3 hours late. Turns out he did trust me.

And from there I began to see things in a different light.

These professors are all individuals who for one reason or another have taken an interest in other cultures, or at least international students. Every semester they see students come and go. Every semester they teach the same thing, over and over and over. Because they care about their culture and have the strength and courage to form new relationships with curious students from all over the world. Relationships that will most likely end in short order.

I know how hard this is.

So I wrote notes in which I attempted to express my appreciation for their investment. Two of my professors hugged me and almost cried. The other two looked shocked and responded with something like, "For me?! Whoa....! Thank you!"

Thank me? For what? For noticing your sacrifice and taking the time to thank you for it? Believe me, it's doing at least for me as it will do for you. Thank YOU!

On a Scale of 1 to Amanda Seyfried...

Within 2 days of arriving in Korea, the general populace seemed to have settled on my celebrity look-alike: Amanda Seyfried. (Although I never considered her to be terribly attractive, I decided to take it as a compliment.) Since that first week, I have repeatedly and from very different sources been told that I look just like her. By "varying sources", I mean varying Korean sources. It had never before crossed my mind that I looked *anything* like her, so when I arrived here and all-of-a-sudden looked *just* like her, I wondered what changed.

When I ask Koreans why they think I look like her, their answers generally include at least 2 of the following:
"You are really pretty."
"Blond hair."
"Big eyes."
"Light skin."
"Green eyes."
(I have since learned that the last 4 equal the first 1 here.)

When I asked my american friends if they saw the resemblance, most of them made comments such as:
"Well if she wasn't caked in makeup..."
"I guess you both have big eyes."
"Your facial structure is similar."
"Maybe I can see that."
"Well if your hair was lighter..."
And nobody said, but everybody thought:
"Well if you were skinnier..."

This is me at prom with my friend JJ in May 2010.

Amanda 2 days ago with Korean Kpop singer Taecyeon.

Amanda is a "stunning blond" actress/model.

I am a lowly college student and ambitious blogger.

While us Americans tend to categorize hair by colors such as blond, dirty blond, strawberry blond, brown, dark brown, light brown, black, red, or auburn, the Koreans view hair as light or Korean. We see eyes as big or normal, green, hazel, blue, bright blue, brown, and even "eyes like the sea after a storm". Koreans view eyes as either big or Korean, and either light or Korean. We view skin as light or tan, they see either light skin or Korean. Facial structure doesn't even cross their radar. And finally, being skinny in America is often equated with being attractive. Same in Korea. Unless you have non-Korean features - then you are pretty.

And I learned all this just because I suddenly looked like Amanda Seyfried when I landed in South Korea!

Reverse Culture Shock, 1

Before coming here my study abroad adviser mentioned that after returning from a year in Spain she experienced some "Reverse Culture Shock". And that I should be prepared to experience at least a mild case of it.

Since then I've been pondering what all would be involved with this so-called reverse culture shock. Is it something I should worry about or try to prepare myself for? Earlier this week I had a conversation about it with a few of the other exchange students. I now have some new thoughts to mull over.

Among other challenges that I am sure I cannot anticipate, I have realized that this experienced has changed me in ways that I am only beginning to recognize. My view of the US has altered, as has that of the rest of the world. I've experienced things that most of my friends will only ever dream (or worry) about. I've learned how to do things that I will never need to do in the US. My attitude towards many new customs, ideas, and people has become even more open. I've grown used to living in a place where I understand little of my surroundings - and few people can understand me.

In addition to the changed that I have experienced, my friends' lives have continued without me. How can we just pick up where we left off? Four months, while not a long time, can change a lot.

I wonder what I will experience when I get home. I wonder how I will respond to being thrown back into my old life with my new knowledge and perspectives. I wonder if I will feel overwhelmed, sad, lonely, excited, left-out, out-of-place, comfortable, or just nothing.

Wheel

Walking back to the FLEC Building from eating lunch at the cafeteria, my Korean friend and I were chatting about the weather and our classes, when out of nowhere I heard a male voice say - less hesitantly and more urgently than normal, "Excuse me." As department elections are being held soon, more than one Korean student has stopped me to tell me who to vote for, so my initial response was to look at him, nod and keep walking while pretending I was trying to understand who he was telling me to vote for.

First, "Do you speak Korean?"
"No."
"Do you speak English?"
*faint smile - thank you for not assuming!* "Yes."
"Well, my English is very bad, but I have a favor to ask...Are you busy now?"
"Well...actually, yes."
"Oh, well. Um, I really need a favor."
"Uhh..."
"My favor is, I have a presentation I need to give, and I need someone to look over it."
Oh, I can do that. Probably a paper he has for his English class...no problem.
"Ah, well I will be busy until 5."
"Where will you be after 5?"
"In the building right behind you. Do you have time at 5?"
"Yes. Where...?"
"Oh, go in the main door, and straight ahead there is a room. The sign above the door says Global Lounge. I'll be in there."

By the time 5 rolled around, the 4 hours of sleep I got last night were seeming like a smaller and smaller amount, and I had dozed off in the corner. When I work up, I saw him sitting with a nervous-looking lady, probably a bit older than me. He introduced her as I sat down, handed me some papers, and pulled out his phone. He asked me if I could read it out loud as he recorded it, to improve their pronunciation and phrasing, as this was an extremely important presentation.

Not exactly sure, but I think she was trying to get a job as a teacher, or develop a research program, at another college. And her research was in the field of dental diseases. I'm not 100% sure I pronounced all the words correctly, and more than once I had to reread something. Nonetheless, they were extremely grateful. It took me 6.5 minutes to read the presentation, and after that I spent another 5 adding the handful of articles they had left out. All in all, it was an extremely well-written and grammatically correct paper. I felt honored to be able to help them!

They were extremely thankful.

He pulled a Starbucks drink out of his coat pocket, and told me he'd bought it warm for me. Then asked me what other compensation I wanted. I laughed and told him, "Well, I am just a student now, but in a year I will be trying to go to graduate school, and then maybe someone will help me like I am helping you. So it's ok!" "Oh...really??" "Of course! nice to meet you and good luck! Oh, and thank you for the coffee, I was really tired!"

"Well I've been afraid of changing..."

Last night I woke up from a much-needed 6-hour nap, and thought "What should I do now?" When my mind answered me "Hmm...are there any lists, plans, or records I can make?" my next thought was "What??! Since when do I plan and organize in my spare time? Who is this person??" I sat there thinking about what I'd just thought, feeling quite disconcerted at the changes taking place almost without my notice. Feeling like I no longer knew myself. Then my friend knocked on the door and asked me if I wanted to go eat with them. I immediately felt better and exclaimed, "Sure!" Then my mind started racing once again, "Wait, what? Since when do I spend time with other people to make me feel better? Am I turning into an extrovert?! *gasp*"

WHO IS THIS PERSON IN MY BODY!!

Of course, facing the idea of having an identity crisis at the age of 23 because I wanted to make a list and then go out with friends seemed really quite ridiculous - at least I can still laugh at myself! But someone asked me about a month ago how this experience was changing me, and since then I've been trying to answer.

Yes, I now tend to be extremely organized and future-focused. I still don't ever make my bed, but the girl who used to leave her shoes and projects all over the house, and the teenager who used to have piles of clothes in every available floor space, has become the women who tightly holds to the mantra, "A place for everything, and everything in its place." The high-schooler who used to procrastinate until 9 o'clock at night, is now the college student who studies regularly every day so she never has to study for finals.

Also, I do plan ahead. Nothing big, just, you know... Graduate school. In two years. But in this area, I have certainly maintained some of my spontaneous tendencies. I like to look at options, and work toward one, while striving to keep all the others open - just in case I change my mind. I suppose "organized" and "future-focused" does not necessarily equate with being a "planner."

As for becoming an extrovert. Well, I haven't. I have, however, learned the therapeutic effects of going out with others when I am tempted to over-analyze myself. Somehow, when I'm with others, I have less time to be selfish. Who knew?

I've noticed some other changes as well...

Such as, not being afraid of looking weird, or of people noticing me. Why? Well, everyone notices me here anyway. Why not give them a better reason than my blond hair?
I've also begun to learn that there is nothing wrong with trying something even if I know I won't be good at it. So what if I never make a single basket? I enjoyed the time spent attempting to play basketball with several other almost as bad as I was.
Since I got here, I have frequently heard the accusation, "Yea, but you like being healthy!" First, I never knew that was such a bad thing... And second, since when do I like being healthy? Well, since I recently realized how much better I feel physically and psychologically when I eat food that is good for me and devote time every day to exercise.
Finally, that state that some refer to as "being in love," still not sure I buy it. But I can safely say that I feel things I've never felt before, and make very different decisions than I used to, all because of Sam.

So yes, I am changing. That person in my body - which itself looks a bit different - is not the same as she used to be. But growing and changing often go together. I'm not afraid of changing because I don't want to be the same person I was yesterday! I want to be kinder, stronger, and wiser. I want to be growing.

Some things are inexplicable.

Although I have been to several (Buddhist) temples here, the sense of peace that pervades the entire site never ceases to amaze me. I could be standing shoulder to shoulder with a crowd of people as we attempt to view the famous, or not-so-famous, Buddha or building, or I could be standing alone in the shade of an ancient tree that's grown through the stone fence surrounding the temple grounds. Either way, the feeling of total calm is inescapable.

This weekend I visited the Beomeosa Temple in Busan, and I think I can safely say that it is not only the most unique, but also the most beautiful that I have seen to far. It also contained a surprise for us.

After a long trek up some rock stairs built into the mountain behind the temple, my tour guide/good friend, Yeongho, and I found a secluded compound where there were maybe 5 other people. At first we didn't know if we could go in, because inside the main building there were a couple monks singing an obviously-sacred a capella tune. Other than those monks and two large, fluffy dogs, the place seems deserted.

After standing, whispering, taking a few photos, and generally soaking up the restful atmosphere, we caught glimpse of a hiker inside the wall, so we ventured in ourselves.

Inside, the yard, buildings, and even the dogs, seemed perfectly managed. Quite, still, and well-kept, it appeared to be an actually dwelling place for Buddhist monks. Complete with a spring, temple, manicured bushes, sleeping rooms, and even beautiful stone structures built into the mountain. It was surreal, but so attainable at the same time. From the gate, you could see the entire compound, but it was impossible to ignore the sense that most of what was happening was not visible. Somehow, the camera felt out-place-while, while simultaneously feeling useless. It was like a time warp - which would be impossible to capture. But on the other hand, it did not feel wrong to be a modern person with a phone, sparkly earrings, and a camera.

In an inexplicable way, the past, present and future all seemed to meet. Natural beauty met humanly-designed beauty. The tangible world met the ethereal. All in a seamless, intangible yet inescapable manner. All this inside the small walls of Geumgangam.

On a scale of 1 to 10...

...I seem to be a perfect Westerner.

Body image is an enormous and pervasive issue in our culture. There is a huge amount of pressure put on people to look like the models whose pictures they see plastered everywhere. Be skinnier, be more tan, be more toned, have sexier hair, be taller, have thinner thighs, etc. I was curious when coming here, how the issue would play out. What I've found leaves me sad and befuddled.

Yes, they should be skinny and toned, but mostly their standard is this: have a light complexion, be tall and curvy; use any amount of make-up necessary to look like you have big eyes and "double eyelids"; dye your hair and get it permed to make sure it's not straight or black; go through any length you have to - usually plastic surgery - to make your face look less round and more oval. To sum it all up, look as "western" as you possibly can!

For years I have struggled with feeling that I wasn't pretty enough, because I wasn't skinny or toned or tall. Because I thought there was some objective standard of beauty that I could never attain. But since I've been here, I have been saddened to realize that although this is not true, it seems to be a common misconception. But here their "objective standard" is vastly different from ours.

This point was driven home to me yesterday in a way that breaks my heart.

The University was shooting a promotional video, and for the part about the global exchange program, they conscripted me and a few other international students, as well as some Korean students. One girl was visibly shaken because she was so nervous. When I asked her if she was ok she said "No! I am not ok. I don't look good enough." Taken aback I tried to comfort her, "Oh! I think you are pretty, your hair is really beautiful and you look really professional." She really was beautiful by my subjective standards and I wanted her to see herself through my eyes. Although countless others have hinted at this idea, her blunt response shocked me. "Me?! Oh no! You are so beautiful!! So... *here she spread her arms out to show that she thought I was off the scale*...I wish I had her skin and your hair and your EYES!"

Me - she wanted to look like ME! Why?? Why would she want to look like me when she could look like her? Why? Because the standard of beauty here screams to Korean girls that they should look Western. It's a scream that makes these beautiful girls feel intimidated by an very average American. Me. This realization continues to overwhelm me. I am humbled, but infuriated. Why, why, why are we so caught up in pursuit of this perceived "objective" beauty?! Why do we constantly strive for such a hollow and unattainable goal? Why do we let it intimidate and control us? And why am I the person who, by no choice of my own, constantly rubs this into the faces of my beautiful Korean counterparts??!

While we're waiting...

This is not going to be a sappy "I miss my man" post, nor will it be an expose of all the wonderful reasons I have to miss him. Instead, it is an honest -brief - look at what it means to be in a vibrant, growing relationship from half way around the world.

Some things don't really change.

At home it was "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Here it is "What happens in Korea stays in Korea." But my response is the same either way, "But I would know."

At home it was "You're late again?!" Here it is "You're late again?!" And my retort to myself when I think that is always "You're upset about that again??"

Some changes are just subtle.

At home it was "I love you, Beth, see you tomorrow!" Here it is "I love you, hon...I can't wait to see you." Either way my response is "Love you too, babe! Can't wait!"

At home it was trips to Starbucks so I could study and he could drink coffee. Here it's rushing to finish my homework so when he gets to Starbucks we can Skype.

But most of the changes are enormous.

I miss having somewhere to put my shoulder, and I don't know what to do with my hands when I'm walking. Words mean so much less when they can't be coupled with actions, so we have to find new words to express what our actions can't. It's so much easier to hide hurt or anger behind a computer screen, it takes a lot of extra courage and patience to explain those difficult emotions over Facebook chat.

The most difficult part is living, not for the past - the wonderful memories we made before I left, and not for the future - the memories we plan to make when I get back. But living now. If I spent all of my time focused on the past or the future, our relationship wouldn't be real or growing.

I love my man, and I am glad we are together today. I am thankful for the time I get to chat or Skype with him. But I am also thankful for all that time we can't be talking. Because he is still in my life. I have him to love, and admire, and miss. Yes, I am thankful for all the sweet times we had before I came here, and Yes! I am so excited to make so many more when I get home. But I am also thankful for the time we have apart, because he is still my man, and I am still his girl. Not even half a globe can change that.

Bowling

Now, this may come as a shock to some of you - unless you read my last bog post, of course - but I bowled for the first time this week. Well, kind of...

Technically my first time was about 6 years ago, when I was senior in high school. I half-heartedly attempted to learn how to play, and when I didn't immediately start getting spares, I gave up. Since then I have found countless excuses to NOT try again. But our mantra around here this semester has been "When in Korea..." Meaning that since we came all the way around the world, why not go ahead and do other things we've never done before - and might not have the guts to do at home. For me it's included things like travelling solo in a country where I don't know the language, taking Tae kwon do, talking to, and taking pictures with, random strangers, living in a dorm, and running. And bowling. 

Please don't tell me your lowest or highest score - I don't want to know! I am quite proud of the fact that at 23-years old, I bowled a 70 the first time I played. Well, the second. And what made the difference between that first time - I think I broke 15? - and this time? Not sure. But I have some ideas.

1. Experience. No, not experience rolling bowling balls, but experience learning new skills. When it comes to bowling, or pronouncing sounds you never knew existed, or dressing 5 different types of burgers in 1 minute, new skills always take time to pick up. But my experience learning the latter skills in that list prepared me to pick up the first one. Because I've learned to watch every movement, understand its purpose, and either mimic it or improve it. And when I don't understand - to ask for an explanation. Whether it means watching the shape of the mouth when attempting to pronounce German, watching the order in which my trainer dressed the burgers, or watching the form my friends used when they bowled.

2. Confidence. I'm sure we've all heard it before: "Confidence is key!" In my case, I had zero confidence in my ability to bowl, however, I had confidence that I could learn. I don't have confidence because of what I know or what I can do, but because of what I know I can learn, and what I know I could do given the right amount of time and training. 

3. Teacher. In this case, one of my friends. The nice thing is, he'd done the same thing I was doing - analyzed every move he made and figured out what was good and what should change. So because we think similarly, it was easy for him to tell me what to do, and easy for me to grasp what he was trying to communicate. 

And, there you have it - my attempt to analyze and understand why I sometimes succeed (moderately) even when (mostly) expecting utter failure.

THEY

I spent the last two days with some of my very best friends from my freshman year in college. They came more than half way around the world to study in my little University, and changed my life. These people were the first group of people that I truly felt a part of, and when they left, it felt like I'd lost my world. I wondered if we'd stay friends, and of course, if I'd ever see them again. I didn't know it then, but they were the only "group" that I would ever have where I felt so comfortable, important, and loved.

After two and a half years, I wondered if it would be awkward. It wasn't. I wondered if they would be too different. They weren't. I wondered if I would be too different. I wasn't. I wondered if we would run out of things to say. We didn't. I wondered if we would still find each other funny. We did. I wondered if they would really want to see me. They did. I wondered if I would love them just as much this time around. I did.
Here are some of the things that made 33 hours in Gyeong-ju, the best 33 hours since I arrived in Korea...

...losing Aeri's car. In a parking lot.
...finally having a Korean Americano.
...trying to read Korean handwriting and asking over and over to make sure, "Is that Korean? Really?"
...Injae: "I think every is staring at you." "Yea...it happens everywhere I go. I think it's beca-" "cause they think you are so pretty!"
...looking at remember when photos. From when my little brothers were actually littler than I am.
...international roof tiles at the Seokuram Grotto. These are the ones I could read: Espana, Deutschland, Portugal, America, Italia.
...chicken and beer and a short black hair. And some more (FREE) chicken.
...staying the night at a traditional (bedless) guesthouse. With heated floors.
...green onion...pancake?
...Drop Top Coffee Shop Garlic Cheese Honey 방을 먹어유 (Bread eating).
..."music" shows on TV. In Korean of course.
...playing pool for the second time in my life and being told,  "You are good at sports." which is definitely NOT true.
...bowling for the first time - 50-something the first game, 72 the second one. (Including one very lucky strike!)
...looking for a real blanket because the one they sold me at the school was "made for a Korean girl."
...rice cake!!!!!!!
...a marathon through down-town Gyeang-ju today, really? Yes.
...my friend telling me "Put your arm there." for a picture: couple picture! hahaha. haha.
...eating lunch and my friends asking "Isn't it too spicy?" repeatedly.
..."Your Korean name should have beenㅂㅐ선히!!" Pronounced "Bae Seon Hee" and meaning "kind, pleasing." Genius!
...running to catch the train that would take me so far away from them...

Sitting in my window seat in the Mugangwhua car that was about to take me so far from my friends, I wondered, "Will I ever see this place again?" There's a lump in the pit of my stomach as I answer myself, "Probably not..." But then I am reminded of the last time I said goodbye to these precious friends, as one by one i drove them to the Nashville International Airport. Same feeling in the pit of my stomach, same questions and fears gathering around my heart.

But then I realize that this weekend was proof - the bonds we formed lasted for over 2 years and stretched around the world. Why did I come here? THEY are why I came here. They are the reason for all those hours wearing that hated headset at Steak 'n Shake. They are the reason I left my family and my home to come to a place where I knew little of the culture and none of the language. They are the reason I spend every evening studying and every weekend blowing my paycheck. They are the reason I cannot wait for another 4-hour train ride all the way across South Korea. It's not about where we are or even what we are doing. It's about being with some of my favorite people in the world. And if I can work it out to see them this time, chances are that this won't be the end. Because now I know, some things never change. The love of true friends being one of those things.

Tranquil as a Forest but On Fire Within

Please take a minute to enjoy this video.

And in case you don't catch all those words, here are the ones most pertinent to this post: 

Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns

Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?
You're the saddest bunch I ever met
But you can bet before we're through
Mister, I'll make a man out of you!

Tranquil as a forest but on fire within
Once you find your center you are sure to win
You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot
And you haven't got a clue
Somehow I'll make a man out of you...

(Be a man)
You must be swift as the coursing river
(Be a man)
With all the force of a great typhoon
(Be a man)
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!

For those of you who don't know this already, I am taking a Tae kwon do class here in Korea. Our trainer has 7 Black Belts. (The highest you can go in TKD is 9 Black Belts, and he is going to take his test to get his 8th belt in December.) there are around 20 people in the class I believe. Approximately 2/3 or female. None of us have any previous experience in any martial art, and most of us have done very little in our life that was half as demanding, either mentally or physically. Take a look at the scene around 20 seconds in the video where Mulan/Ping walks in front of Captain Li Shang. Now imagine Mulan is a string of foreigners and the Captain is our teacher.

There are several reasons for the looks of disappointment and discouragement that are quite plainly seen on his face. First, most of us could be accurately described as a spineless, pale, pathetic lot who don't have a clue, even after being shown a move 5 different times. Second, being swift as a coursing river, having the the force of any kind of typhoon let alone the strength of a raging fire are skills that come with time and focus, LOTS of time and focus. And third, most of us have no clue what it means to be "tranquil as a forest but on fire within." 

This last point is painfully obvious to me at the moment. And by painfully obvious I mean that I am sore in places I have never been sore before. Why? Because I have so rarely attempted to kindle the kind of fire within my body that Tae kwon to calls for. 

Not only does TKD require strength in the neck, shoulders, elbows, and wrists, upper and lower arms, core, glutes, thighs and calves, hips, knees, and ankles, it requires stamina as does any kind of physical training never tried before. But besides immense strength and stamina, it takes balance, precision, and coordination. 

Balance because standing on your right leg and rotating at the hip while swinging your left leg around, kicking, and returning means your upper half has to go the opposite direction - and when the leg goes up, something has to go down, usually the shoulders. But there is an art to balance. You can balance effectively without executing the position anywhere near accurately. Because every movement has meaning.

Tae kwon do doesn't leave much room for fooling around. Forget to move the other arm at the right moment and you can expect to get a nice kick to the chin. (No, I haven't experienced that yet...) If your foot is too close to your body, your balance will be off and your leg my interfere with the next move. 

But that leg is not the one you are worrying about. Coordination is the area in which we have focused most directly in the last month. Don't forget you have two legs and two arms. Oh, also, you have two ankles and two wrists, and two hands and two feet! And you are using all of them. At once. The best thing I can compare TKD to is dancing, moving every part of your body in different directions, in controlled and hopefully synchronized motion. All muscles are on call and every limb is alert and alive with anticipation. Like a fire flowing inside.

But it's controlled and regulated by a firm and calm mind. The intense fire harnessed in each muscle is masked by a face that presents total tranquility. 

Naturally, I've already got that down to an art. The art of punching and kicking - Tae kwon do.

Real Hurt, Real Help

In some ways I feel as if I am not ready to write yet. The pain is still too raw and the hurt is still too real. But on the other hand, there are some things about this time that I don't want to forget.

Like all the Facebook "Likes," comments, and messages. All the hugs, sympathetic smiles, reassuring touches, and kind gestures. When I'm so far away from those I love in a time when we're all feeling the same pain, I've had to accept the sympathy of those who can't understand what I'm going through. Part of me wants to look with scorn into their eyes and tell them, "How can you tell be to be strong - you have no idea what I'm going through!" or "I know I'm not alone here - I'm surrounded by people who hardly know me and have barely started caring for me." But...what if instead I looked into their eyes and saw that they realize those things, but they are stepping out to show that they want help even if they don't know me well. What if I step out of my own perspective and see that when they reach out to hug me, they are trying to help me feel my family's arms reaching around the world to hold me?

It is never easy to comfort someone who is experiencing the loss of a loved one. There never seems to be anything to say. Advice seems pretentious, joking seems insensitive, and soothing words seem insufficient. And in a sense, that is true.

But I appreciate the wise words my friends have shared with me. "Seize the opportunity you have now to enjoy your time in Korea, let it distract you from the pain." "Be strong, Beth." "Don't stay in your room, get out in the sun, we love you!" "Talk with your Mom, you'll feel better!"

And laughing about funny things that my suitemates say is really not disrespectful. Smiling at the sun on my face and the colors in the leaves next to the colorful flowers along the road is a natural way to let joy soak into my sore heart.

Soothing words, well, they are insufficient. No words will ever be enough. But being so far away, words are the only things I have to share with my loved ones. Pictures, memories, stories, feelings, all seem somewhat hollow when shared over chat or Skype, but take it from the one on the other end - these insufficient words are far, far better than no words!

And finally, small gestures, even when you don't realize what you're doing, can mean the world. I have received so many messages from friends, some who I've just met or hardly talked to in the years I've known. I know it couldn't have been easy for them to write to me, but they showed me that I wasn't forgotten, and that my friends were willing to step out of their comfort zones for me. And what about the kind employee at the University bookstore? He sees countless confused students every day, and then I come in and I can't even talk to him. But instead of treating me like another (inconvenient) number, he kindly showed me where to find my book and then wrote down the price for me because he knew I wouldn't really understand it if he just said it. And the countless hours my wonderful man sat in front of his laptop, reading angry, confused, distressed, bitter, crazy, and desperate messages assuring me that he wanted to hear about my emotions even if he had to response and reassuring me that it was ok to cry - he would be strong for me when I couldn't be strong anymore.

In this time of indescribable pain, I have encountered immeasurable love, support, and even beauty. Although I wish I could have been with my Grandpa when he passed, and I wish I could be there now with my family, to comfort and love them, I know that is not the whole picture. I am seeing, experiencing, and learning things here that I will be able to carry with me for the rest of my life. Even through the hurt and tears.

On authenticity

Have ever wondered how authentic your life is? Especially when you feel like you are having some kind of special experience? For instance...you're a college student and you want to have a good and authentic "college experience," so you do everything you hear other people say they do, or you party all the time because that's what you thought college students do, or you study all the time because that's what college is all about, right? Well, maybe...

Before I came to Korea I thoroughly analyzed what I thought would make a good, balanced, and authentic experience here. It included going out to Korean clubs, hiking Korean hills, maybe finding some Korean clothes, going to lots of different places all around Korea, studying just enough and take time to relax, and being very outgoing so I could make many Korean friends.

Through all of my analyzing though, I sort of forgot one thing: coming to Korea wasn't going to change me. Guess what? It doesn't matter which side of the world I'm on - I don't like going to clubs. Hiking, well, that's always a good idea, but even half a world away from home I still only like going hiking alone or with a few select people. And Korean clothes? Well, let's just say my hips didn't turn Korean when I got here, so neither did my style. As for going lot's of different places in Korea, that one's still a winner! Relaxing always seems like a good idea, and it seems like it should be easy...but it's not easy for me. I study hard, then I sleep a little, and then I go on some epic and, for most people, unexpected adventure. Finally, being outgoing seems like a good way to make friends. Unless you're an introvert... Better to stick with the normal strategies of smiling at people and only talking when I have something to say - I've never had trouble finding international friends with that, for me, very natural strategy.

But if I'm just acting the same way I act at home, will my experience be authentic? Well, maybe...

But what is "authenticity"? Everyone in Korea is different, no one has the same life as anyone else, so how could I hope to live like "Koreans"? Yes, eating Korean food, and participating in traditions, visiting homes, and going to historical spots, drinking Soju, and going to the beach in Busan or the amusement parks in Seoul are all things that many Koreans do. Yes, it is good to step out of my comfort zone and do things I don't normally do, whether I'm in Korea or not. Yes, Korea is a WONDERFUL place to try new things, make new friends, and experience a new culture.

So far though, my favorite way to experience authentic Korea is just by living.

I experience Korea when they all stare at me on the Subway and when one goes out of their way to help me, knowing that I speak no Korean and they speak no English.
I experience Korea when I go shopping at giant outdoor markets and at sparkling malls.
I experience Korea when my hostel room is full of mosquitoes.
I experience Korea when I go to famous palaces and then I eat rice at least twice the same day.
I experience Korea when my friend's grandfather says "Good morning, how are you?" to me. (I am the first American he has ever met, and those are the only English words he knows - he practiced saying them just so he could talk to me.)
I experience Korea when I sit in my dorm room for 6 hours and study German, and then fall asleep with my head on my books.
I experience Korea when all the people around me are speaking in Korean and don't notice me.
I experience Korea when I go to church with my friend and introduce myself using the 2 phrases I know in Korean.
I experience Korea when they sing a special song for me telling me they are so happy I came.
I experience Korea when I quietly smile at my suitemate who is friendly and sweet but very shy.
I experience Korea when people take me out for chicken and beer and goofy pictures.
I experience Korea when my new friend calls me Nuna and gives me a tentative little side hug just to make sure it's not awkward.

It's not about how many places I go or how many people I meet, or even how many new experiences I have. It's about living. Me, living my life, aware of and participating in my surroundings, wherever I am. Authentic? Well, maybe... Natural? Absolutely. New? Definitely. Awesome? Extremely!

A very uninspired blog post

Writing a blog post can be extremely difficult. I want to be creative and fun, entertaining and informative. But what if all the thoughts in my head are lose odds and ends - half-baked ideas that I thought one minute and forget to remember the next? So many different and difficult things happen here. Different because I am in a different country, different because I am living in a dorm for the first time in my life, different because I have to make a completely new set of friends, different because the entire structure of my life has changed.

For one who's crafted a life for herself that thrives on structure and organization, this change is not an easy one. The cultural differences, honestly, bother me very little. People stare - not just at me, but also at each other - and that's ok; I stare back. People have this concept of personal space - it means that we should be personal with the space around us. So yes, please, go ahead and put your hand on my leg. I can get used to those, really, it's ok. In fact, I don't really mind too much that I can't ever understand what is going on around me. Talk in Korean, I'll practice listening to your pronunciation. Order food for me, I wouldn't know what to get anyway.

*shrug*

I tend to go with the flow and be pretty chill when it comes to "cultural differences."

So where is the difficult part? I have so much free time! I have 6 classes each week, 2 on Monday, and 1 every other day. Then I have to study German, and study Spanish, and study Korean, and work on projects for other class. Practice Taekwondo, work out, go running. Oh yeah - eating is usually a good idea. Maybe I'll sleep sometime, but when to wake up? All my classes start mid-late morning... WHERE IS MY ROUTINE!?!

And then...there's my room mate. I like her, she is very quiet and introverted and sweet. But, we share a room. When I want to be alone, I have to go somewhere, and even there, who knows when someone else will find my quiet place? What about sitting alone, in my space? It doesn't happen. I have no place of my own. (Reminds me a little of when I was growing up with 11 other people in the same house and the shower was the best place for alone time.)  It is also very difficult to go out alone as I speak very, very little of the language.

And the last idea that is constantly floating around, unfinished, in my head, is the pain of distance. Behind every new friend I meet, and behind every old friend I talk to on Facebook or Skype, is the lurking thought, "It's not going to last." The partial truth of this nagging thought is its strength. Because the fact is, many of the people who I am close to now, and many of the new friends I get close to in the coming months, I won't keep up with for a long period of time. But... why should that be so frightening? Friends sometimes come into your life, and it's beautiful, and it doesn't last. Is it any less beautiful for its transience? I think not. No, the people I meet here will never know me as well as the friends I've had since high school, but that is ok. They are the people in my life at this point. Also, who is to say what will stick and what won't? One of my very best friends my freshman year was a Korean girl who only stayed for one semester. Safe to say I am very glad that she was willing to be friends with me even tho we only had a short time together, also, guess what? Our friendship isn't over!

So there you have it: random thoughts about the struggles I am having here. The good news? It's just barely started! Plenty of time to make a routine and some friends. Or...maybe just the friends part.

Sensations

I have attained a heightened awareness of several of my senses since arriving here. Each one is constantly being presented with sensations that it has never encountered before which is undeniably disconcerting, but has revealed to me the depth of elasticity that my senses contain.

For instance.

Everywhere I go I hear unfamiliar sounds. Obviously, the language is the most noticeable: vowels that are somewhere in between our vowels, those used in German, and nothing I've ever heard before; consonants that sound like you took a break for air half way thru one sound and then said the second half with the first half of the next. (R-L, anyone?) But then there are more. Such as the elevator talking when you get to each floor. The sound of an engine not slowing down for you. And someone asking you in Korean, "What the **** are you doing?" Oh wait...how did I know that's what she said? Because now that I can't understand the words and the unfamiliar sounds, the tone, urgency, and pitch of the sounds all mean more than they ever have in the past. I hear less, but I hear more at the same time.

The scents are for the most part either very similar or very different. Cars smell like cars. People smell like people. Sewage smells like sewage. Food smells like food - tho I never quite know what to expect. The biggest surprise to this sense is the location I find those familiar scents.

Sights are similar in some ways. I see people, streets, food, cars, signs, clothes, stores, maps, water fountains, trash cans, decorations, cash registers, speedometers, eating utensils, souvenir shops, and even McDonalds. If I stop thinking for a minute I can convince myself that I'm back in America. But look closer... The people are all dark and small with dark hair. The streets are for the cars - they always have the right-of-way. The food is normally unrecognizable. (Don't fall into the trap of thinking it's not...) The cars are almost exclusively Hundais. The signs are in Korean. The clothes all look familiar, but the style is very unique. The stores are all little shops, normally convenience stores that sell everything. The maps are also in Korean. The water fountains are actually just water-bottle-filling stations. The trash cans are all color-coded. The decorations are not "Asian," they are normal. The cash registers read in the 1000's for a cheap meal. Speedometers are measured in kilometers per hour. (I an't explain the astonishment I felt for a split-second when my friend's Mom was driving at 100...Kph. Right.) Eating utensils, well, you can finish that one. Souvenir shops sell everything from hair bows to flags - Korean flags. And good ol' Mickey D's. Finally something I'll recognize, right? Wrong. I have no idea how to say "McDouble" in Korean, let alone to read it. And for the final blow to thinking that the sights predict deep similarities, McDonalds doesn't sell Parfaits here.

Big boo.

This brings me to the sense that normally feels like it's overloaded, numb, or reeling. Don't get me wrong, I like Korean food - much of it is healthy, tasty, creative, and down-right nommy. But imagine with me...you go to your favorite restaurant, you order something you've never ordered before, and it comes out looking like nothing you've ever seen before. So you take a sip of water to steady yourself, but it tastes oddly metallic. *shrug* It's still water, right? Finally you dig in and brave a bite. It's good. You chew, then swallow. Then go for another bite because you liked it. But wait...why did you like it - you can't for the life of you remember what it tasted or even felt like in your mouth. So you take another bite. It's good again. Then you swallow and once again you have no idea what you just ate.

If you've never experienced this before, it's probably almost impossible to understand. But suffice to say that much of the pleasure of eating is the anticipation. After 3 weeks here I am getting better at predicting and remembering hat my food will taste like. And even texture is becoming less of a surprise - tho still a huge factor. Two days after I arrived here, I was given a drink. It looked healthy so I took it. It tasted good too. I drank some and liked it so much that I wanted that taste more and more. But I couldn't bring myself to drink it. Why? Because there were jiggly chunks of something suspended in the somewhat thickened liquid. No matter how many times I told myself that I liked the taste and wanted more, I drank hardly any of it, and it was so strange to my mouth and stomach that it almost made me sick.

Food is, however, the only new texture.

I've realized that I have not only a powerful sense of touch, but one with an incredible memory. I can look at a surface, feel in my head what it will feel like, touch it, and only feel slight differences. Granite feels like granite. Wood feels like wood. Bathroom door latches feel like bathroom door latches. (Although you turn them left to close them here, and right to open. Think about it.) This has turned out to be an immense comfort. Not only do the things I feel feel like home, but because this sense experiences so little that it doesn't remember or can't predict, it holds onto the things that I used to feel at home, but can't feel here...

Sam's hair.
My own pillow and bedding.
The last hugs I got from my siblings.
My car keys.
A quarter.
Cooking utensils.
The way my floor feels under my feet.
Mashed potatoes.
My doorknob.

And the biggest comfort of all, Sam's hands.