Last This, Last That

The fact that I leave Asia in four days is slowly sinking in. Some observations have helped me to come to terms with what didn't feel real for a while. This is the last jar of peanut butter I'll buy in Korea. This is the eighth-to-last cup of coffee I'll drink in Korea. This is FINALLY my last class with the fifth-grade savages. This is my second-to-last school lunch. This is the last time I'll teach adorable third-graders!

I was the opposite of sad to part ways with some classes, but I'm having some separation anxiety seeing how a handful of kids are not coping too well with my impending departure. Take third-grader Dana (to my immediate right below), who at the beginning of class nicely asked me—twice—not to go back to America. After we took the class picture, she quietly cried through the whole class. Of course, she was sitting in the front row. When I brought her a piece of candy and took a few pictures with her later, she seemed to have recovered. At least she snagged some close-up pictures of me on her cell phone to keep the memories alive.

Reentry Preparation II

Study up! 

Reentry Preparation I

In just TEN SHORT DAYS, I'm breaking up with Korea and getting these feet back on US soil. I'm a little nervous about transitioning to the cold weather (it's currently 69° in Incheon), acclimating to Western food, and, you know, finding a job. I'm also worried about confusing people when I talk. It has been many many months of not only simplifying and slowing down my English to accommodate unfamiliar ears (and adopting Konglish versions of English phrases), and also many months of struggling to learn Korean words, then constantly using the easy words I eventually mastered.

I realized how easily Korean (finally) rolls off my tongue when recently my mom asked if we could talk in ten minutes and my answer was, "Nay." It might take a while for the Korean flair to fade from my vocabulary, so until then, please diligently study this chart (the first of a few) in order to keep up with me and show me you care about the culture I embraced for the past 11.75 months.

Let's go shopping

A couple Fridays ago, I spent upwards of $2000 in less than three hours. Fortunately, it was money I made myself and the goods were a variety of items drawn (or folded) by my fourth-grade students so I didn't need a trailer to haul my booty home.

Lesson 12 was titled (somewhat confrontationally) "What Do You Want," so what better way to practice than to turn the classroom into a big marketplace? We practiced talking about money, then worked on important phrases like "I want a hamburger," and "How much is a camera?" I taught them about "Buy one, get one free," the American cousin of "1+1." After tearing out the $1 and $10 bills provided in the textbook's appendix (as the teacher I had the luxury of making $100 bills), the kids got down to work with a blank sheet of paper and their imaginations.

Left: More pens than you can shake a stick at (as Dale would say);
Right: A girl fills her bookstore with titles like Mayple [sic] Story 49 and Mama Boy.

Aside from the kid who just kept shouting, "I love money!" those little entrepreneurs churned out something for any shopper's taste: clothing, accessories, sporting equipment, food, electronics, pets, books, weapons, and even apartments. I passed on purchasing a new home, but was able to obtain the following treats:

• Three hamburgers
• Two TVs
• A camera
• A pet squirrel
• A pet puppy
• Goalie gloves
• Earrings
• A dress
• A bunch of bananas
• An origami piano
• A smartphone
• A car
• A book titled Face Code
• A book titled Oh! My god!
• A sword
• A tank
• Three bars of gold ("14K - mude [sic] in Korea")

Half of the students would close their shops to browse the goods the rest of the class was selling. They asked for deals, they made change, they begged me to buy their stuff. If only getting a car, apartment, smartphone and pet squirrel would be this easy when I return to the US.

Left: Hard at work on the animals for the Love Pet shop;
Right: He wears argyle and he's got money to spend.

Huh?

Browsing the shops at my local underground market, I spied what I thought was the most poorly designed sweatshirt around:

A few hours later, this gem stood out from the others:

And a stone's throw away, we found this one (shown with my friend Deyne):

PS - let me know if you want me to pick one/all of them up for you.

Everything Is Terrible

11:20 p.m. Friday, October 21- Maggie calls: "My iPod lied to me about how long it will take to get there. I might be late, so please don't let the bus leave without me." I'm also running late, so I call Wade to make sure the group will wait for us.

11:22 p.m. - At the next stop, Maggie enters the door right next to where I am sitting.

11:27 p.m. - We finally stop laughing about the unlikelihood of our meeting — in one car at one of 477 stations in a subway system that moves over six million people a day — to exit the train and sprint for the bus. Its destination is Seorak Mountain, one of the highest peaks in Korea and one of the country's most popular National Parks, then on to the town of Yangyang for a night and part of a day near the East Sea.

12 a.m. Saturday, October 22 - After waiting for a straggler, the bus finally departs. Sleeping is difficult among the rows of chatty twenty-something English teachers, but I manage to doze off before and after our one a.m. break at a rest stop.

3 a.m. - The bus arrives at Seorak Mountain, one of many vehicles filled to capacity with mountain sports enthusiasts. Everyone looks more alert, much older and much better outfitted than Wade, Maggie and I, who clumsily disembark and wonder why we signed up for this trip. Things I wish I had: four more hours of sleep; coffee.