Heads Up

That's what I look like, according to my fourth-grade students. I may have changed a little over the last six months, so I hope no one is too shocked when while I'm in the U.S. for the next week.

And a warning about Korean habits/mannerisms I may have picked up:

• I might forget to leave a tip
• I'll probably use both hands to wave
• Instead of "uh huh" I will probably say "mmmm" to show that I understand
• I might bow at people
• If I see something cute I will probably say "aaaw" like in this clip
  (not Korea-related, but still a habit as of late)

Let's Go Running Near North Korea

6:34 a.m. Sunday, May 22: "OHMYGOD WAKE UP! We have to leave RIGHT NOW!" Being not only a charming hostess, but also a wizard who sets her alarm for Saturday rather than Sunday, that's how I roused my slumbering friend from my couch on the day of our 10K race. There was no time for trivialities like eating breakfast or shaving armpits; we grabbed our bags and snacks we'd had the sense to pack the night before and ran out the door. Our plan had been to leave my apartment at 6:25; to get to the 10 a.m. race we had a bus ride, a two-hour subway ride with four transfers, and then would have to catch another train at 9:04 or it wouldn't run for another hour. Maybe our carb-loading spaghetti dinner the previous night was all for naught.

Setting the alarm for yesterday is never helpful.

At 6:48 Alex and I flew into a taxi and directed the driver to the subway station, skipping the bus ride. Sensing our urgency (or it's common practice before 7 a.m.), he ran red lights and got us to the station in time to catch the express train toward Seoul. Rushing down the stairs, I tripped and nearly rolled my ankle and tumbled down more stairs. I was able to pull it together and get on the train unharmed.

Long way to go.

Alex and I were able to catch up as we sped toward our first transfer station. We hadn't seen much of each other since our March orientation, and she'd traveled from central Korea to Incheon, thinking the race was in Incheon. The Paju Love Marathon (and half marathon, 10K and 5K) was actually right on the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the buffer area that serves as the border between North and South Korea. Knowing that Alex had been a competitive runner in college, I had been somewhat serious about training so I could try to keep up with her. It turned out that she wasn't feeling so great when race weekend rolled around - foot and leg problems were plaguing her, but she wanted to race nonetheless.

We sped from station to station, making our way north and west. We hoped the online tool that calculates travel times was based on the slowest, most shuffly walkers and not the nimble sprinters charging up escalators and weaving in and out of crowds. At long last, we reached the end of the line and followed runners who were heading for the other train. One more short ride, and we arrived at the race site/North Korean border.

Hey Alex, where's North Korea?
Right over there.

Initially the weather was cool and cloudy, but by the time runners lined up for the marathon's start, the sun was out and the temperature was perfect. We followed along with an announcer's warm-up stretches and arm circles, then joined the ranks behind the start line. The announcer instructed the racers to give the person in front of them a shoulder rub, then everyone spun around to reciprocate. And we were off.

The course wound around a couple of highways, past rice paddies and farms. We looped up and around exit and entrance ramps, and at one point were heading straight for a DMZ gate. The course doubled back just before the gate, then ran parallel to the DMZ for a couple kilometers - we trucked along in the sunshine, only 30 feet from the tall barbed wire fence marking the end of South Korean territory.

For seven kilometers, Alex and I stuck together at a pretty brisk pace, listening to our iPods and marveling at the scenery. An old man in a suit and an old-fashioned hat rode past us on his bicycle. Korean teenage girls yelled and sang cheers with dance moves. And with three kilometers to go, I took off. Memories of high school cross country came back as the finish line drew nearer and more fans appeared, offering shouts of encouragement and high fives. Sprinting down the final stretch, I was so happy my alarm clock mishap hadn't kept me from racing. And I was happier still when we helped ourselves to tofu and makgeolli (Korean rice wine) and leisurely enjoyed seconds and thirds in the sunshine. It was a great day with a turbulent start, all for the chance to spend 51 minutes and 22 seconds running near North Korea.

Snacks and smiles after finishing my first Korean 10K.

Take Me Out to the Wyverns

As a belated birthday present, three of my co-teachers organized an outing to see a professional baseball game in Incheon. The SK Wyverns are #1 in the league and my fellow sixth-grade teacher Min-jeong is a huge fan, so I was happy to see what all the fuss was about.

Left: Am I a bad fan for not crying? Right: These bathroom signs took me a minute to interpret...

It was a busy night, but the 30,000-seat Munhak Stadium was far from sold out for this Tuesday night game. In true Korean fashion, the four of us had pooled our money and Min-jeong (after losing Rock, Paper, Scissors) was in charge of choosing and paying for the food and drinks our group would share. Lines were non-existent as we loaded up on hot dogs, spicy fried chicken, chips and pop. The vendor even threw in paper cups for sharing the drinks. With each sip of Coke, my cup reminded me that "The hope only happens to the person who is hoping." We didn't order any instant ramen, but there were hot water dispensers conveniently located throughout the stadium for all the noodle eaters. I was shocked to see that it's acceptable to bring in your own food and beverages - at one point the big TV in the outfield showed a group of young men unpacking their groceries and six-packs from a big cardboard box.

Our $20 tickets got us seats at a table a couple dozen rows behind home plate. The third-grade teacher Hyunjeong assured me that these are much better than the regular, narrow, $8 seats. Having a table was helpful when trying to eat fried chicken with chopsticks, but I was still not entirely smooth or successful. We had a great view as SK took on the Lotte Giants from Busan. The teams' cities and mascots were irrelevant - the fans almost exclusively refer to the team by the corporate sponsor. What a waste - the wyvern looks like an awesome and intimidating creature, according to my Google image search results. Yelling "SK!" just makes me think of cell phones and gas stations.

Each player had his own individual cheer, which the SK fans belted out while a few cheerleader/dancers pranced atop the dugout. Cheering is easy to follow when the majority of players' names are only three syllables long. Fourth-grade teacher Junki helped me learn a few cheers, my favorite/easiest to remember being "Sahm gu, sahm jin!" This encouragement for "Three pitches, three strikes!" worked a couple of times. There was pitching trouble early on, though. In just the second inning, the SK pitcher was replaced - the new pitcher was carted to the mound in a tiny car from the bullpen. Shortly after his dramatic delivery, he delivered a pitch that resulted in a grand slam. Min-jeong put her hands on her head and wistfully said, "Aye go." Junki taught me that this phrase is very versatile, meaning "how frustrating/I'm depressed/this is terrible/oh, man." I will be sure to use it every time I miss the bus, fumble my chopsticks, or discover that the shoes I bought yesterday just went on sale today.

SK came back with a couple runs in the fifth, about the same time the amazing orange full moon was rising over the picnic area beyond left field. There weren't many hits, but there were a lot of foul balls. Whenever the ump was running low on balls, a little ball girl would trot out to him with an Easter basket of new baseballs. Despite the enthusiastic fans, the choreographed dances, the Easter basket of balls, SK couldn't pull it together. They went down swinging wildly in the last inning, falling to Lotte 2-8. "Aye go," said the crowd.

With Min-jeong, Hyunjeong and Junki. Hyunjeong might be taking the loss a little hard.

Midway Musings

Spring! Sunshine! Flowers! 

Had a lady baboon been knocked up before I left Minnesota, she would have birthed her offspring by now! Maybe you didn't know that the gestation period for a baboon is six months? It's true, and it's the amount of time I've spent so far on my Asian explorations. I've made it half of the way toward graduating Korea (to borrow a phrase from my friend Benten).

May has been a mixture of rainy and beautifully sunny weather. Can't believe I used to constantly wear my warm brown jacket - soon I'll be shedding the bright orange uniform as well. The morning walk to work is green and lush and pretty toasty. Might need to take a cue from Korean women and use an umbrella to shield myself from those a.m. rays. And it's finally warm enough to go without a coat in school! I worried this day would never come.

The kids are always keeping me on my toes. For every student who refuses to participate in class and only says to me "Don't know English-ee," there is another kid who excels at everything and includes the phrase "As a result, we found the treasure," when writing instructions for a group treasure map. One of my favorite things is when I'm explaining something, then the light of comprehension suddenly clicks on and there's a big chorus of "Aaaahhhhhh!"s around the room. Another entertaining thing is when kids get a right answer or win a point in a game and they react like they've just won the World Cup or the Miss Korea Pageant. Every time. Today they even took it to the next level and acted like Oprah's audience members when she's giving out free stuff. The joy of the small things.

Girl Scouts and relay races. I never know what I'll come across at school.

AKFP 2

Spotted another Awkward Korean Family Photo in Seoul near a big palace! In addition to the sheer size of this piece (5' tall), the bow ties and animal print really caught my eye. Poor kid in the middle just wants to go play soccer and computer games.

Surprise

Surprise Sack!

You know how sometimes you come home from a nice day of flea marketing and thrift shopping to find that someone has left an enormous bag of cucumbers at your door? It says your apartment number and everything on it, so you lug it inside and take a closer look. Billions of (or maybe 70) cucumbers and one zucchini! Why? From whom? And you just bought three cucumbers from the store, what are you going to do with dozens more?



The timing is perfect, because you're about to go meet your old co-worker for dinner. You can bring her a gift - Koreans love sharing things! You pack up a bag of cucumbers and on the way out of the building you realize maybe the security guard gave them to you. There was that one time when you gave him a bunch of leeks you couldn't use and were going to throw out. You pause when you see him and try to ask whether he gave you the vegetables. (This involves pointing into the bag, then at him, then shrugging.) Then you try to say you're bringing them to your friend. (This involves saying the word "friend" in Korean and pointing toward the restaurant.) He nods enthusiastically, apparently pleased to be considered your friend, and takes the bag from your hands.



At dinner you ask your companion if she likes cucumbers because you happen to have a treasure trove of them at home. She does! So you give away another bag. Then you realize that you can bring the remainder of what you won't be able to eat to school to share with other teachers. They're always enjoying communal treats in their shared office between classes, and so far you've contributed nothing. You haul the last couple dozen vegetables to school in the rain, and when you bring your prize to the office, you are horrified to find out the truth behind this Monday Vegetable Miracle. Written on the bag is not only your apartment building and number, but the name of a different apartment complex. The grocery store delivered the bag (worth maybe $40 or $50) to the wrong apartment. What? You've never stolen someone else's giant vegetable sack, thinking it's an odd but generous gift?



Oops.

**Many thanks to Eric Cannedy for all his help with the visual components featured here lately. My computer has been in the shop - let's wish it a speedy recovery and give Eric a hand for his superb photo editing.







Oops

It's pretty clear that I do not possess the green thumb of my mother. The once lush unidentified plant and the delicately blooming orchid I inherited upon moving into my apartment ceased to exist recently, even after I (kind of) committed to having Wednesday Water Parties. I'm sorry I let you down, innocent plants of apt. 1202.

No reason to weep, though, because greenhouses, flower shops and street-side plant sellers are all over my neighborhood. For less than $2 each I was able to get some green back into my living space. They're already almost three weeks old and still going strong! Are you proud, Mom?