01 November 2009
Just Now
Just now a shadowy commotion against my curtains caught my eye. I opened them up to see that a great gust of autumn wind had thrown dozens of leaves high into the air and that now they were spinning gracefully past my window back to the ground like pinwheels dropped from an airplane.
07 July 2009
Thirsty in South Korea
Dear Neighbor,
Please stop taking my water. I suppose you step off the elevator and see that 19 liter bottle of clean and refreshing water sitting by my door and wonder why someone has left it there. You're probably hot and tired from a long day of being in Korea in July. Maybe you think, "I'll just take a little off the top then bring it back," but never get around to returning it. Maybe you think it's abandoned and looking for a home. It's likely that you suspect you've been blessed by the water fairy and dance from my door to yours (as well as one can dance while carrying a 19 liter bottle of water.)
The point you miss in all this is the 'from my door to yours' part. If, in fact, it were abandonment or water fairy bestowal - it is clearly directed at me and not at you. The truth is, it's neither. The water is there because I paid for it to be delivered to my doorstep - a convenient and fairly cheap service. It's so cheap, in fact, that if you can't scrape together the loose change to pay for it - I'll gladly double my subscription if you'll agree to leave one bottle behind for me each delivery.
If you are reading this blog and wondering if it is addressed to you (as it may well be) here are some clues to narrow the audience:
1. you live in South Korea
2. you occasionally see a large white girl in the elevator
3. while waiting for the elevator in the mornings you often hear the squalor of an amateur violinist - or someone singing loudly in the shower
4. over the past two weeks you have had the good fortune to stumble upon and abscond a large, full water cooler jug, twice
Sound familiar? If so then you are my reader of choice today. Swing by and introduce yourself - you know where I live, it's the apartment that sometimes has 'free' water samples out front. I'll invite you in for a glass of milk (I'd offer you water, but I'm running out quickly.) We can have a nice chat, look at pictures of the family back home, laugh at the whole silly situation, and figure out what the next bold step is in our mutual hydration situation. I know we can find a way to make this work.
Sincerely,
Thirsty in South Korea
Please stop taking my water. I suppose you step off the elevator and see that 19 liter bottle of clean and refreshing water sitting by my door and wonder why someone has left it there. You're probably hot and tired from a long day of being in Korea in July. Maybe you think, "I'll just take a little off the top then bring it back," but never get around to returning it. Maybe you think it's abandoned and looking for a home. It's likely that you suspect you've been blessed by the water fairy and dance from my door to yours (as well as one can dance while carrying a 19 liter bottle of water.)
The point you miss in all this is the 'from my door to yours' part. If, in fact, it were abandonment or water fairy bestowal - it is clearly directed at me and not at you. The truth is, it's neither. The water is there because I paid for it to be delivered to my doorstep - a convenient and fairly cheap service. It's so cheap, in fact, that if you can't scrape together the loose change to pay for it - I'll gladly double my subscription if you'll agree to leave one bottle behind for me each delivery.
If you are reading this blog and wondering if it is addressed to you (as it may well be) here are some clues to narrow the audience:
1. you live in South Korea
2. you occasionally see a large white girl in the elevator
3. while waiting for the elevator in the mornings you often hear the squalor of an amateur violinist - or someone singing loudly in the shower
4. over the past two weeks you have had the good fortune to stumble upon and abscond a large, full water cooler jug, twice
Sound familiar? If so then you are my reader of choice today. Swing by and introduce yourself - you know where I live, it's the apartment that sometimes has 'free' water samples out front. I'll invite you in for a glass of milk (I'd offer you water, but I'm running out quickly.) We can have a nice chat, look at pictures of the family back home, laugh at the whole silly situation, and figure out what the next bold step is in our mutual hydration situation. I know we can find a way to make this work.
Sincerely,
Thirsty in South Korea
12 June 2009
The other girl on the swingset
I had a great workout tonight. I pushed myself to a new level, and on the way down from hiking the stairs in my apartment building, I grabbed my recycling to take it out and sort. It was so nice outside that I decided to go for a walk. I tucked my emptied recycling bag under my arm and crossed the street to the pretty side. After a few minutes I came to a small playground. There are playgrounds all over the place, but I never play on them. I've never seen Korean adults on the playgrounds before and I worry that it might be taboo.
The playground was empty, though, and the swings beckoned. "Denice," they whispered, "come for a ride. Don't worry what others will think." I'd been silencing temptation all day. Silence donuts! I do not need your delectably glazed calories. See as I wisely eat this banana instead. Silence open window just big enough to throw first graders out of! Sway dejectedly in the wind as I take a deep breath and count to five before reacting. Silence movie theater! I reject your comfy seats and buttery popcorn. Tonight I will shadow box and lift weights while I watch 'The Biggest Loser' on my laptop.
Swings - you win. Here I come.
I set my recycling bag on a bench, preliminarily tested the strength of the swing, and took flight. I love swinging. I've always loved swinging. Many a neighborhood swing set has found itself the focus of my retreat from stress or sorrow. It's my sanctuary. It's my happy place. My legs pumped in a slow rhythm, marked by the squeaky chain keeping my pace. Air stroked my face and arms and I was grateful.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for this moment. Thank you for the strength that's been lent me today. Thank you for my amazing life, for my family, for my job. Thank you for truth in abundance, for joy, and for beauty. Thank you for friendships. Thank you for solitude. Thank you for 10 flights of stairs. Thank you for peanut butter.
"Squeak," said the swing.
"Thank you," said I.
And then I wasn't alone on the playground anymore. A young Korean woman was walking into the sand. She was wearing workout clothes and carrying a cloth bag. She set her bag on the bench, next to mine, and set herself in the swing next to me. I was surprised. As I said, I'd never seen Korean adults on playground equipment before. When she stepped onto the playground I'd sooner expected a scolding than a companion.
Quickly the pace of her swing joined mine. 'Squeak' 'squawk' 'Squeak' 'squawk' was the call and reply of our equipment.
I continued to enjoy the moment, already taken back by the similarity of our situations, when she began to whisper to herself in Korean.
My Korean is bad and I understood very little, but I did understand one word - over and over: 'Kamsahapnida'. Thank you.
Maybe she was praying. Maybe she was practicing a monologue. Maybe she was vocally thanking the universe for every moment that the swing set didn't buckle and collapse under the weight of the large foreigner in the other swing. I have no idea.
I am tickled by this, though, and I'll tell you exactly why. I love Korea. I love a thousand things about it, but I don't connect with it. I don't relate to the Korean culture, and it's very rare that I relate with Korean people beyond surface interchanges. So now I'm tickled by this new idea. I have this silly thought that there is a Korean me, that for over two decades we grew up on opposite sides of the world, in opposite cultures, but that we still turned out the same. For over two years we've been living across the street from each other without any idea. Tonight, we shared a swing set.
And I hope that right now she's at home, writing a blog in Korean about how tickled she is at the idea that tonight she shared a swing set with the American her.
The playground was empty, though, and the swings beckoned. "Denice," they whispered, "come for a ride. Don't worry what others will think." I'd been silencing temptation all day. Silence donuts! I do not need your delectably glazed calories. See as I wisely eat this banana instead. Silence open window just big enough to throw first graders out of! Sway dejectedly in the wind as I take a deep breath and count to five before reacting. Silence movie theater! I reject your comfy seats and buttery popcorn. Tonight I will shadow box and lift weights while I watch 'The Biggest Loser' on my laptop.
Swings - you win. Here I come.
I set my recycling bag on a bench, preliminarily tested the strength of the swing, and took flight. I love swinging. I've always loved swinging. Many a neighborhood swing set has found itself the focus of my retreat from stress or sorrow. It's my sanctuary. It's my happy place. My legs pumped in a slow rhythm, marked by the squeaky chain keeping my pace. Air stroked my face and arms and I was grateful.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for this moment. Thank you for the strength that's been lent me today. Thank you for my amazing life, for my family, for my job. Thank you for truth in abundance, for joy, and for beauty. Thank you for friendships. Thank you for solitude. Thank you for 10 flights of stairs. Thank you for peanut butter.
"Squeak," said the swing.
"Thank you," said I.
And then I wasn't alone on the playground anymore. A young Korean woman was walking into the sand. She was wearing workout clothes and carrying a cloth bag. She set her bag on the bench, next to mine, and set herself in the swing next to me. I was surprised. As I said, I'd never seen Korean adults on playground equipment before. When she stepped onto the playground I'd sooner expected a scolding than a companion.
Quickly the pace of her swing joined mine. 'Squeak' 'squawk' 'Squeak' 'squawk' was the call and reply of our equipment.
I continued to enjoy the moment, already taken back by the similarity of our situations, when she began to whisper to herself in Korean.
My Korean is bad and I understood very little, but I did understand one word - over and over: 'Kamsahapnida'. Thank you.
Maybe she was praying. Maybe she was practicing a monologue. Maybe she was vocally thanking the universe for every moment that the swing set didn't buckle and collapse under the weight of the large foreigner in the other swing. I have no idea.
I am tickled by this, though, and I'll tell you exactly why. I love Korea. I love a thousand things about it, but I don't connect with it. I don't relate to the Korean culture, and it's very rare that I relate with Korean people beyond surface interchanges. So now I'm tickled by this new idea. I have this silly thought that there is a Korean me, that for over two decades we grew up on opposite sides of the world, in opposite cultures, but that we still turned out the same. For over two years we've been living across the street from each other without any idea. Tonight, we shared a swing set.
And I hope that right now she's at home, writing a blog in Korean about how tickled she is at the idea that tonight she shared a swing set with the American her.
04 June 2009
Hiccups
"sqwkwaw, sqwkwaw ........................ sqwkwaw"
That's what my hiccups sound like on the inside of my head. If there were another person here they would probably hear "hic ... hic ... hic ...", but there's no-one to hear them from the outside.
That's what my hiccups sound like on the inside of my head. If there were another person here they would probably hear "hic ... hic ... hic ...", but there's no-one to hear them from the outside.
29 May 2009
The Best Day Evar
Bad news: The Swine Flu is in Korea. It came in with a foreign teacher, which led to the quarantine of a group of other teachers that had been in contact with the individual. You can read the adventures of that group here. My adventures are related to theirs, but are also quite different.
The H1N1 scare lead to the cancellation of our spring picnic. (Please do not ask me to explain why we were safer from the virus confined to our tiny, crowded, and poorly ventilated school than outside the city on a mountainside. The only answer I can give you is that the decision made the mommies happier - and in private education, mommy happiness always trumps logic.)
So, the day before the picnic I found myself looking at the next day's blank schedule and wondering what we would spend the day doing. I mulled over a few options, but didn't really like any of them, so I decided to let my class choose.
Without further ado I give you - The Best Day Evar: what happens when kindergarteners make the lesson plan.
First Period: Gym and Games
We started out the day in our little gym with stilt races.
Second Period: Cooking
Next we made a no-bake layer cake out of graham cookies, cream cheese, and sweetened condensed milk.
Third Period: Music Time
Fifth Period: Birthday Party
The final request was that we finish the day with a birthday party. It wasn't anyone's birthday, so we nominated Olivia the beloved pig of children's literature to receive the honors of the day. We sang and ate the cake we'd made earlier. It was super tasty, and the perfect end to what truly was the best day evar. I should let my kids do the planning more often.
The H1N1 scare lead to the cancellation of our spring picnic. (Please do not ask me to explain why we were safer from the virus confined to our tiny, crowded, and poorly ventilated school than outside the city on a mountainside. The only answer I can give you is that the decision made the mommies happier - and in private education, mommy happiness always trumps logic.)
So, the day before the picnic I found myself looking at the next day's blank schedule and wondering what we would spend the day doing. I mulled over a few options, but didn't really like any of them, so I decided to let my class choose.
Without further ado I give you - The Best Day Evar: what happens when kindergarteners make the lesson plan.
First Period: Gym and Games
We started out the day in our little gym with stilt races.
Second Period: Cooking
Next we made a no-bake layer cake out of graham cookies, cream cheese, and sweetened condensed milk.
Third Period: Music Time
In may our theme was 'People to Know' which included figures like Ghandi, King Tut, Michael Jordan, and The Beatles. My class's favorite was The Beatles and Yesterday has become our most requested song.
Fourth Period: Field Trip
Next we went to the neighborhood playground to romp. I forgot my camera, but I'm sure you can imagine Korean kids on monkey bars adequately.Fourth Period: Field Trip
Fifth Period: Birthday Party
The final request was that we finish the day with a birthday party. It wasn't anyone's birthday, so we nominated Olivia the beloved pig of children's literature to receive the honors of the day. We sang and ate the cake we'd made earlier. It was super tasty, and the perfect end to what truly was the best day evar. I should let my kids do the planning more often.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
