Something...

...I've noticed here that would never fly in the US: they rarely use car seats. Once you pick your jaw up off the floor I'll mention a few more things I've noticed, because carseatlessness is just one of many somethings that probably wouldn't fly in the US. It's probably #45.

Put some groceries on it

Prior to November of 2010, hardly any of these questions crossed my mind. In those simpler times, I didn't ever wonder which type of mayonnaise to buy (without any help from nutritional information or elaborations on the names). There's even a third option: "Gold." What to do what to dooooooo?

Visiting grocery stores while traveling has always been a treat for me. I love discovering bottles of wine for one Euro in Spain, cute half-loaves of bread in England, shelf after shelf of delicious chocolate in Germany and colorful cartons of juice in Thailand. But it's one thing to be charmed and amused by new offerings while on vacation and another situation entirely when you've got to navigate the shops to keep yourself alive for a year. I've made many timid visits to stores and markets of all shapes and sizes in recent months, and maybe my experiences can help someone else (*cough* Nathan) know what to expect.

Markets & Street Sellers
There is an abundance of proper outdoor (but covered) markets open year-round, but weather permitting, people also set up shop on the sidewalks all over the place. One can find seasonal fruit and vegetables, dried fish, frozen fish, grains, eggs, nuts and more. I liked how Luke put it when he visited: "It's like the farmers market. But all the time. And everywhere." Some sellers seem a bit more reputable than others, what with tables and signs and clean clothes. Others seem a bit more sketchy, so I asked a co-worker if it's ok to buy from them. He cautioned me that the produce might be from China, which is not good. He told me to see if other people buy from the person, and if they do, it should be okay. I've snagged some delicious and cheap fruit on the street, but once what I thought was a great deal ($1 for a huge bag of salad greens!) turned out to be some of the most disgusting stuff I'd ever ingested. Hit or miss, story of my life.

Grocery Stores
Because everything's not available in the street, sometimes an actual store comes in handy. I've frequented three sizes: Small, where there are only three or four aisles, the pickings are slim, and the shopkeeper might get to know you (and your habit of bringing your own bag or sticking your items into your big purse); and Medium, where there might be as many as fifteen aisles, there's greater variety and sometimes free samples, and there's probably a guy in the produce section yelling about the deals of the day into a microphone (which is broadcast throughout the store and also the sidewalk outside of the store). Here's a video example of this fun feature:

Then there's Large, where the signs and packaging usually have English and there are often dozens of samples to gobble up. On a few early trips I hesitantly picked up bits of dumplings and pastries with green toothpicks, fearful I'd be reprimanded for only snacking and not shopping. But after a lady boxed out a crowd of five or ten samplers to scarf down several pieces of a Korean cinnamon sugar pancake, I realized nobody cares. So with each visit I eat the same bites of tofu and chicken nugget, down the same tiny cups of instant coffee and drinkable yogurt, grab a handful of the same peanuts, and never buy any of these perpetually-featured items.

1+1

It's not just an incomplete math problem (which was my first guess). My friend Alison was nice enough to point out that this is the Korean equivalent of buy one, get one free. Or in some cases it's 2+1 (less exciting) or 5+1 (much less exciting).

Service

Service (or sohbissuh in Korean) means free! One of my favorite parts of going shopping is scanning the shelves to see what kind of service items have been taped onto boxes, bags or cans. Yes, taped. Just plain old packaging tape. No messing around with codes, or coupons, or mail-in-rebates. Sometimes it's something sensible, like two extra cartons of yogurt with your four-pack. Or an additional tiny box of cereal with your regular-sized box, or a baby bib with your carton of baby yogurt. Others make a little less sense but are still awesome.

• Buy a huge bag of instant coffee packets, get a neck pillow.
• Buy an eight-pack of beer, get two cans of tuna.
• Buy a box of cereal, get a frisbee (or DVD, or fuzzy socks, or special crafting scissors).

And perhaps my favorite: buy a jar of spaghetti sauce, get a roll of paper towels.

Other observations:

• Hardly any peanut butter to be found (especially when compared to a Minnesota store, below left), but seaweed and soy sauce options are endless.
• Save some money by buying your vegetables dirty!
• Canned food isn't so common; offerings usually only include corn, pineapple, bamboo shoots, and peaches.
• Creepiest brand name: 마더스핑거 (Mother's Finger)

So that's what I've noticed as I've wandered around stores, looking for things like eggs (they're by the vegetables?!), or spicy mustard (it's near the pepper, not by the regular mustard). Of course, just when I get the hang of things, it's almost time to leave.

Carbivore

Not long before I left Minnesota, a little bird (named Annie) struck fear into my heart when she told me that she heard they don't have dessert in Korea. Being blessed with/afflicted by a major sweet tooth (thanks, Marge) and loving all things bread-related (I wish I could remember from whom I first heard the term carbivore and claimed it as my own), I worried about the possible lack of sweets in my future. As it turns out, desserts and breads and sweet foods of all sorts are in abundance in Koreatown. While you can't (nor would want to) order a slice of pie at a restaurant following a meal like this, the fact that options exist in a plethora of bakeries and grocery stores put my mind and stomach at ease.

Temptation waits.

There might actually be too many sweet things available, and this has thrown a wrench in my fitness plans. In the early days I thought I was making a smart decision by walking to and from work each day, but between my apartment and the school, I passed eight bakeries. Not to mention Dunkin Donuts and Baskin Robbins. Soon the walk became a time to contemplate which bakery to try on that particular day. Not wanting to let the benefits of my walk totally be undone by layers of flaky pastry and gobs of cream filling, I started bribing myself. I sampled many of the finest offerings of Paris Baguette (pronounced bah-geh-TUH in Korean), but only after finishing an hour-long yoga workout. The pastry would sit on the kitchen counter - taunting me - while I completed every last downward-facing dog. Much to my surprise, after a while I did the workout without the reward. As I became more familiar with my neighborhood and was able to navigate the mazes of apartment complex parking lots, I found a route to work that featured only one bakery. I became more committed to following along solo to yoga podcasts and found a wealth of free options online.

I got lost many times before nailing this down.

Now that the weather's warming up and the sun is sticking around longer, I've also been able to utilize a nearby walking/biking path that follows a stream north out of my neighborhood, avoids the heavy traffic with strategic underpasses, and spills into nearby Incheon Grand Park. The park offers hiking, bike rental, space for kite flying, picnic spots and fantastic people-watching opportunities. Spring in Korea is looking much more active and less pastry-filled than the winter.

Four Months

As temperatures start to climb into the upper double-digits on the Celsius thermometer, it appears I have survived the Korean winter as well as the first third of my Asian sabbatical. The snow's been gone for ages but kids are finally starting to put away their Napoleon Dynamite snowboots. The evenings are getting longer. Flower stalls are showing up on the street more often than those selling neck warmers. It's tough to grasp the fact that soon I'll experience Korea without the filter of my mittens, scarf and coat. My friends, co-teachers and students probably won't recognize me when I'm not wearing the coat that has so far been my Korea Uniform.

People Doing Nice Things For Me

My vacation in Seoul turned out to be quite laid back. Nothing too exciting to report - there was a lot of walking, several gallery and museum visits, lots of great food, and overall, a surprising number of people doing nice things for me. 

It started when I arrived at the Seoul Museum of Art to see the currently featured Chagall exhibition. I probably was supposed to pay to rent a storage locker for my big backpack, but the nice ladies at the front desk took the pack (which was surprisingly heavy for five days) off my hands so I could join the throng of museum visitors unencumbered.

From the museum I hustled across town to join a group of knitters having a Meetup at a cafe. I'd spent countless hours knitting a scarf since I'd arrived in Korea and had no idea how to finish it. Anna-Marie, the robust leader of the group, made my day when she completed the scarf for me while I looked on and promised to practice. Without that scarf, the chilly days spent walking the streets of Seoul would have been borderline unbearable. The two of us have since become pretty much inseparable.

Finishing the scarf made me late to meet Jo-anna and Sanghun, but they were amazing hosts despite my poor first impression. In addition to wining and dining me, they gave me the heads-up that I would see dog meat at the local market the next day. I'm glad I knew what it was so I could hurry past it rather than pausing to examine it more closely.

A fishy section of the market.

Thanks to a kind Korean woman in a mall who took the time to walk out to the street with me and point me in the right direction, I found the Dongdaemun Design Plaza. Though the huge convention hall is still under construction, there's an open museum, a memorial for the stadium that used to stand on the site, and an art gallery. When I entered the gallery the woman gave me the informational brochure about the current display, then said in very clear English, "I have something for you." I was so flattered and excited! It was like my mom had sent a card to that very gallery and I'd finally arrived to retrieve it. Turns out it was a paper model kit of the Seoul Tower that she pulled from a box of dozens, but still, this one was just for me!

Back to wandering another market, pajeon being fried up left and right caught my eye, so I took a seat on a heated bench next to a middle-aged Korean businessman eating one. He helped me to see that I could get a lady-sized version for less money, and he politely passed me some chopsticks and the kimchi. I thought he would share some of his rice wine with me, but that entire bottle had his name on it (at 2 p.m.).

I followed the stream that runs through Seoul westward to an area with lots of palaces and the Office of the President. Near his office was a very informative museum about all things Seoul-related. It had lots of high-tech interactive displays and even a green screen situation where my scarf and I could get our picture taken with President Lee Myung-bak and the First Lady! A museum employee offered to help me, but I was able to crank out these two prize snapshots all by myself, and even instantly email them to myself.

In need of some professional grooming, I later found my way to the White Skin Beauty Salon, a place whose brochure promised I could "Have the 'Just done' Beauty Look Every Single Day!" For about $8.98, the esthetician skillfully tamed my neglected eyebrows. I guess it's not technically a nice thing she did for me since I paid her, but anyone who can beat into submission the unruly beasts that are my brows is a good deed-doer. I felt so guilty not tipping, but so it goes in Korea.

And at long last I was reunited again with my Minnesota friend, Jaclynn. We had a great dinner of seafood soup and caught up, then had an extravagant Sunday morning brunch - something I hadn't realized I miss so much. Miso soup, a variety of pastries, yogurt, tangerines, apples, peanut butter and green tea - quite the spread in bed (no dining table at her place). She even gave me a plastic bag of peanut butter to take home, possibly the best of all the good deeds of the vacation.

Almost ready.

Gone.

Other bits:

• Tried "doctor fish" at a cafe: You plunge your feet & calves into a tank with hungry fish - they're supposed to eat off the dead skin on your feet. Just tickled, wasn't so effective.
• Ate a peanut butter cupcake at a tiny cafe recommended in Lonely Planet. It was delicious AND they were playing Iron & Wine.
• Saw everything from centuries-old ceramics to a Warhol to a special exhibition by Sophie Calle at the Leeum Samsung Museum of Art. 
• Enjoyed every last bit of a serving of truffled sake infused mac & cheese at a posh restaurant near the Leeum. In a land where American cheese is used liberally, Gruyère and Parmesan were welcome departures from the norm.
• Missed belly dancing class, but stumbled upon a martyr museum instead. 
• Went hiking 100 meters into a national park, then had to wait for part of the group to catch up, then just ended up walking through a posh neighborhood and having lunch at a temple. 
• Attended a professional basketball game - kind of felt like a college game, but the players were even punier than college players I've seen. 

Lunch.

Don't know what it is, but it tastes pretty great.

Rapidly fading are the memories I once had of elementary school lunches. Instead of rubbery nachos, spongy rib sandwiches and cartons of milk, I now think of metal chopsticks, seafood soups, and lots and lots of kimchi. Lunch at school is simultaneously my most confusing, awkward and important (aka largest) meal of the day.

The hallways usually start smelling fishy (regardless of whether fish is on the menu) around 10:30 and my rumbly belly gets really excited when all the individual self-contained carts of food, dishes and utensils finally get parked outside of each classroom just before 12:10. While the kids eat lunch in their classrooms with their homeroom teacher, I join other English and miscellaneous teachers, plus the principal and vice principal in a teachers' lounge for my daily self-service mystery foodfest.

Food inside, dishes below,
and bonus yogurt on top.

Since it comes with a price tag of a mere $2.03 per day (US dollars, approximate), I usually try to fill my metal tray to the brim. This is unless there are things like teeeeeeny sardines (about as thick as angel hair pasta and only an inch or two in length, and with little eyeballs - served roasted and mixed with sliced almonds and honey), which I serve up in a smaller portion. I feel like a jerk for always asking what things are, and a lot of the time the translations that pop up on teachers' cell phones make zero sense anyway, so I just give everything a shot. I never thought I'd look back on tasting menus I tried with Luke at Minneapolis restaurants as a sort of training for this - the often strange or unexpected combinations usually turned out to be amazing, and so far I've been pretty happy with my school lunch combos without knowing exactly what they are. I just wish they, too, were paired with a nice bottle of wine.

Items I've been able to identify so far have been fried fish and shrimp, duck, chicken fingers, lots of pork, and bibimbap. Plus there is always rice, a soup, and some form of kimchi. I hope I am subtle as I watch other teachers for clues as to how to tackle the various sizes and shapes of food with only chopsticks and a spoon. At times I've looked up from struggling with my chopsticks to realize everyone is just using their spoons. Or that they're wrapping the duck in the cabbage and adding hot pepper paste. Ohhhhhhhh. I enjoy the days when there is a bonus item for everyone: maybe a tiny yogurt, a Clementine, a cookie, or even a sausage corn dog.

As a fairly messy girl, the lack of napkins was a bit of a shock. Infrequently there's a roll of toilet paper at the table (convenient for when there are surprise bones to spit out). Side effect: I think my spilling rate has declined in the absence of cleaning materials. A miracle! There is also a lack of beverages. Though the principal is always served tea once he is finished eating, no one drinks anything with the meal. (Super frustrating when there's a sticky side dish like black soybeans, peanuts, and sesame seeds in a syrup of soy sauce and sugar.) On the other hand, there is no lack of slurping and smacking. Marge and Dale would strongly disapprove. Among the top ten most important things I was taught as a kid was to shut my mouth while I'm chewing. It seems Korean parents do not impart this wisdom on their offspring.

It can be nerve-racking to eat lunch in the same room as the administrators. Perhaps they worry whether the students are learning because I rarely talk, save some pleasant - and simple - exchanges with teachers about weekend plans or inquiries about the soup. Mostly I wonder what everyone around me is talking about in Korean (fashion? taxes? calories in the pork?). But there was a nice moment last week when I was finishing up my yogurt and the principal practically shouted "Rinjee!" (the students are catching on to "Lin-Zee"much faster than he is) and handed me a Clementine which he had quite tidily peeled. How did he know that the way to my heart was through my stomach? The next day he gave out gold chocolate coins! Surprises around every corner.

(Almost) Clean Plate Club! 

Turkeymania

I'm thankful for preservatives and the USPS.

My large, well-equipped apartment is an excellent tool for trying to make people be my friends. So I had a Friday night dinner party! Luke scored big points by sending me a package of Thanksgiving things. I whipped it all up for my Tennessee friends using my two-burner stove and my toaster oven. It definitely takes more strategizing when those are my only resources (plus a microwave), so we'll see how my cooking skills develop this year. I'm pretty pleased to have made the following and sustained only one toaster oven burn:

• Stuffing skillet (green beans, corn, carrots, cream of mushroom soup, turkey spam, chicken (to lessen the potential nastiness of the turkey spam), and stuffing on top)
• Candied yams
• Garlic mashed potatoes (ok, ok, they were instant)
• Turtle brownies

Going, going, gone.

Quite delicious. But between the pizza and beer fest and the Stovetop stuffing bonanza there was a second Thanksgiving in Seoul last Sunday. I was a little confused, believing I was going to an American Thanksgiving meal at a church - when in fact it was an American Thanksgiving meal to be served after a church service. The church is very welcoming to expats, and they even gave me a pen and journal and a nametag. The focus was pretty musical - many, many songs were sung, most of them in Korean and English at the same time, which resulted in feelings of schizophrenia. Surreal moment #894 of my time here occurred during the service: at one point I was holding hands with two Korean men while the pastor led a prayer about North Korea not starting a war. How did I get here? More songs, then I stuffed my face with salad, turkey, chicken, ham, rolls, corn, potatoes & gravy, and a couple of Korean side dishes. After pie and coffee I had to waddle out of there, cursing myself for not having worn sweatpants. Alison and I recovered by window shopping and lounging in an Indian restaurant, smoking hookah. So definitely not a shortage of Thanksgiving cheer and food - maybe Christmas will turn out to be a week's worth of celebrations as well.

Thanksgiving, Korean Edition

A feast.

Just another day in Korea, this fourth Thursday of November. No day off of school, no special events (unless you're in Seoul), no turkey to be found. So I was determined to spend the holiday with some familiar faces - those of my new Tennessee friends, Fletcher and Carly. We made arrangements to meet in Fletcher's neighborhood for pizza and beer and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving - nothing could've sounded better to me.

But then Google Maps lied to me. A supposed 40 minute bus ride turned out to be an hour and 20 minutes. I think an approximate comparison would be riding from Eagan to Brooklyn Center without any highway usage. Amid heavy traffic and construction. [insert deep, calming breaths here] Such a helpless feeling: sitting on a bus, without a cell phone, not exactly sure where you're going, knowing people are waiting, worrying they are eating pizza without you, on Thanksgiving, in a foreign country. I finally arrived in Fletcher's neighborhood, and after emailing and calling from a PC bang I was able to find him and Carly. The pizza was still hot, and we bought more cold beer to supplement what I already brought along. Plus they had cookies for dessert. Finished the night with some Korean Cranberry Almond Crunch (kind of Thanksgiving-ish, right?). Sending everyone warm, fuzzy holiday wishes since yours is just beginning!

Monday, Monday

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. We ate all of that. 

After a night of rotten sleep, I was prepared for a rotten day. Then two Skype dates before catching the bus to school brightened my outlook, and then I was really feeling up when my co-teacher Tammy told me I looked really fashionable with my (unwashed!) hair pulled back in a headband.Very beautiful. I could be on that show America's Next Top Model, she said. But then later in the hall I'm 98% sure a little girl told me to wash my hair. Thanks.

I was eased into teaching a little more today, repeating sentences using my "crystal clear American accent" - sentences like "I play computer games at 8" "What time do you have breakfast?" This came after introducing myself again, and fielding a new crop of fun questions:
"Are you kind?" "What is your IQ?" "Are you a good fighter?" "When you get angry, will you change a lot?"
Maybe the last teacher was a raging maniac when those little terrors wouldn't pipe down? They are really loud. My yelling projecting skills will come in handy.

Mushroomania.

Last week I gave my co-teachers Tammy and Miyoung American chocolates, and today they wanted to show their appreciation. As I was asking about bus routes and whether there's a way to walk from the school to my apartment, Miyoung suggested that she and Tammy walk with me on a path she knew to my neighborhood, then we could have dinner. The path was pretty surreal - a very rural windy narrow road that leads past small cabbage fields and door factories, right in the midst of this huge city. We almost got run over a couple times. Once back in the more populated neighborhood, they took me to a place that specializes in the Japanese dish Shabu-shabu - a big pot of soup is cooked on your table, and you just keep adding ingredients and adding ingredients and eating and eating. I fumbled a couple mushrooms, but Tammy and Miyoung assured me that I am learning chopstick skills really fast. I have to or I will be so hungry. I'm also learning to read Hangeul, the Korean alphabet. I feel like a little baby, sounding things out and messing up all the time. A lot of signs actually spell out phrases in crazy broken English, like this guy's sign, which says peo-ri ha-geo (Free Hug).

The day was capped off by a visit from the building manager, who needed to check out my toilet that's about to fall apart and my shower drain that doesn't drain. Hani had written out the problems in Korean for him, but then he kept trying to explain things and ask me questions in Korean. It's not fun to just stand and shrug and shake my head and point. He fixed the problems, but I think he told me to call a number tomorrow? He wrote something down, can't wait to find out what it says tomorrow when I get to school. Like a cross-cultural game of Telephone.