I'm Legal!

Yesterday, I picked up my visa from the immigration office, which is about a 40 minute standing ride on the subway and a fifteen minute walk after that. The first time I was there, a friend/coworker held my hand through the entire process, taking a three or four hour detour out of his day to show me exactly where it was. Korea doesn't seem to believe that street signs are important on every corner, rather, one should try using the billions of repetitive convenience stores and banks as landmarks to find your way. My friend played an essential role as my lawyer, my translator, and my tourguide. I don't think I would have survived without him. So, yesterday was the day I could pick up my visa. I have a pretty good sense of direction and knew that I could find my way back there this time without him. Of course, one little mistake, and suddenly I'm lost again on the street corner next to 7-Eleven and some Korean restaurant that I cannot read the name. Did it look familiar? Kind of. Like every corner, really. Of course, I'd never been here before. It turned out that I got off the subway one stop too late though I followed the correct steps afterwards, well, it was a frustrating inconvenience. Fast forwarding ahead now, I did get my visa. Earlier, I had given them an old passport picture from sophomore year in college when I wanted a fake ID, becuase I didn't have recent ones. This picture is now on my Korean ID card. I now hold almost every priviliege a Korean citizen does and can come and go as I please for two years if I want. It was a pain in the ass and would have been one thousand times easier to mail the thing in when I was home in the U.S. Of course, the Korean Embassy in the U.S. didn't have the F4 visa application in ENGLISH! Yeah. Live and learn.

I secretly smile

about my unique status as a Korean-faced American in Korea. My fellow Americans who travel to this country wear a big fat nametag on their bodies based on the color of their skin. "Hello, I'm a foreigner! I'm not from here," it says. I, on the other hand, do not. It's an interesting feeling to look at the faces in the streets, and once in a while I'll spot someone without black hair. I'll look at them and hope to catch a glance in return, but they never pick me out of the sea of faces. If they did, maybe I'd start up a conversation with them just to talk to someone in a familiar language. Maybe we could be friends just because we both speak English. I could just speak up and say hello, but I never do. Probably because I don't want to remind them that they stick out like a sore thumb. Or, I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I've identified them as a foreigner based on their skin and hair, like everyone else does. Maybe I don't want to be one of those weird Koreans who walk up to them and just want to practice their English. But it's weird observing them, observing them like a zoo animal put in the wrong pen, because I am just like them. I'm just another confused and clueless foreigner in a strange country--I just don't wear the nametag. I blend in.

On the flip side, it's equally strange to go about my daily rountines, buying a bottle of water at the convenience store or going to lunch with friends. It's not long before someone will ask me a question in hangul (Korean language) and I cannot fake my way through a real conversation. The surprise on their faces when I answer, "Hanguk mal mulahyo," (I do not know the Korean language). It's fun and it's annoying. It's interesting. The other day I was on the subway sitting next to a couple from England who were clearly touring around Korea as the man had the same Korea Lonley Planet guidebook I have. I sat next to them for nearly ten whole minutes, listening to them and observing them, before I decided to reveal my identity and ask, "So how do you like Korea?" They were so surprised! The woman and I began taking and she mentioned how good my English was. I'm like YEAH, because I'm from AMERICA! How would she have known? haha. It was certainly an entertaining ride that day.

Anyways, it is situations like these that I will continue to experience over the next few months. It's cool because I don't think very many people will ever experience. On the inside, I smile becuase I have this secret identity. It's not purely a smile of happiness or cleverness or embarassement, but a mix of reasons why I smile. I smile because it's something unique and different that I get to experience that no one else does.

Returning to Korea

Has felt surprisingly familiar in some ways, but still quite foreign and unknown in many others. This trip, I sense, will be an entirely different experience than last time.

I have already spent quite a bit of time by myself this trip, which is weird for me because I'm always surrounded by friends. In fact, for the first time ever, I live by myself...in a very cute, stylish, clean, new but expensive studio, might I add. At 900,000 Won per month ($900 a month) I have to remind myself that I live in the "rich, posh" neighborhood of one of the largest cities in the world.

My business is much like Vail, in that the hagwons(after-school schools) make all their money in one season; the summertime. I think it will be a very very busy summer. My boss is already talking about potentially working 6-8 hours in the classroom six days a week. I will be teaching college prep English with a focus on speaking and writing to students whom are or desire to study in America's fabulous Ivy League. So far though, I have confidence that I've signed onto a good school and it's encouraging that my boss has been extremely kind and helpful.

In my free time, I would like to learn some Korean language (I get so excited when I can sound out the characters of a store name, or survive a normal everyday transation at the convenience store), join a martial arts class like Taekwondo (so I can participate in something Korean and keep in shape), and of course, have some new experiences and meet new people.

So, many of my friends like you are asking me, "Jules, what's it like to be back in Korea?" Well...
I had forgotten how strange it is to look at a street and be unable to tell it from the 100 other streets I've been to in Korea. The pattern of Dunkin Doughnuts and 7-Elevens and many other stores with signs I cannot read make it difficult for me to tell streets apart. And, the--dare I use a fake advertising term from school-"adnosium" of the overwhelming number of ads filling my views from top to bottom of the tall buildings certainly bring no clairty. I can find my way around, I just cannot distinguish one place from the other yet. It's very strange.

I forgot how the jungled electrical wires flow through the streets and how popular it is to drive in the small alley-like roads without sidewalks and I pray that my feet don't get run over by a large car wheel one day.

The food, however, has been better a second time through. The tastes and flavors I had been so unfamiliar with last time now go down so much smoother. There almost no tense crinkle in my face as I swallow kimchi. The food is not as spicy as I remember. I haven't felt the urge to shovel in tons of rice to hide the burn in my mouth yet. And, thinking about bulgogi, Korean barbeque, galby, mandu, kimbap, ramyun...and oh yes, TOSTORE (they make a Western breakfast sandwich) ...yeah, I'd say that I'm very much looking forward to eating more Korean food. I actually proclaimed out loud how much I like Korean food last time I went out to eat with my coworkers.

And, the weather has also been surprisingly pleasant. I was really expecting to arrive to the hot, sticky, humid, wet summer that made me hate cotton last time. I guess that difference between May and July here. Oh, so much to look forward too. Regardless, I'm excited to wear my feminine skirts and tops around with a romantic Asian spirit.

In a Book

Before the next chapter of my life can begin, I must fully close the previous chapter.  This means, I must commemorate my great memories of the winter in Vail...the many beers and laughs shared with friends, the new tricks and powder runs joyfully practiced on my snowboard, and the silly and sometimes random events occurred at 891 Red Sandstone...and put them in a book; my scrapbook.  It's a long-time tradition that I do.  Sometimes it's overwhelming to realize exactly how much time is spent on this book of mine.  I am reminded of the many many times I vowed never to put my camera away, even if that meant working, drinking, dancing, driving, cooking, shopping, snowboarding, sleeping with a camera in hand.  And then, well, next came choosing just 200 of my favorite photos out of the eight gigabytes taken throughout the season, then organizing them, laying them out on each page and taping them down, adding various collected scraps and writing captions of things 'not to forget', and, finally, placing each page in it's plastic holder in my cherished, fabulous book.  I enjoy the creative endeavor, controlling the aesthetic design.  I also like telling the story of my life, being able to commemorate these fleeting times in a way that I can look back and enjoy them forever.  I am nearly finished scrapbooking my memories from Vail...which means it's almost time to start all over again and make a new scrapbook.  The next chapter of my life is Korea.  It is filled with many, many blank pages...which is exciting because I that means that a new adventure awaits. 

An interesting phone call

came my way tonight. It was from a woman I had never met before, yet, a woman whom I share a truly unique connection. The woman's grandparents are the sweet Korean couple I sat next to on the plane to Seoul last summer. They were the couple who invited me into their home after I had missed the last bus of the evening to my final destination. They even invited me into their home for a week, taking me on a personal tour of all things Korean: we made kimichi, ate bulgogi, toured the Korean Hanok Village, went shopping in Suwon, visited the beautiful gardens, rode the rides at Everland (Disneyland), and we even visited my birthplace, Wonju. Mr. and Mrs. Shim, what lovely, lovely people. They were happy to teach me--a Korean without a clue--all about Korea, even though we had a large language barrier. I think the phrase that convinced me to come stay at their house went a little something like this: "You. Come. Homestay. My house." They'd ask me what I wanted to eat for dinner, "Pizza. You want?" They'd ask me what I wanted to do, "Everland. you want?" And so, you can imagine the difficulty, in a situation like this, to keep in touch over the months spent apart. So it was much to my surprise that I would recieve a phone call from them tonight, delivered by the sweet voice of their granddaughter Sunkyung Park. She told me about how her grandparents wanted to thank us for the book we mailed them, but they didn't know how to communicate that to us. So, our messenger was in perfect need! Sunkyung and I chatted for quite a while tonight, and we discussed future plans to meet in Korea later this summer. Perhaps, we can even have a big reunion with Young Ok and Kie Sup Shim! It's funny how a series of fortuneate events could bring people like Sunkyung, Young Oh, Kie Sup and me together.

Two weeks 'til take off

...and I still haven't bought a plane ticket. One would imagine a bit more planning, eh? Nah! The thrill of a spontaneous adventure is much more exciting than having a plan! Mentally, I'm ready to go. Even though my bags aren't packed, I know what I'm bringing and what I'll leave at home. I've gone on so many extended vacations, it seems. I've been in and out of my parents house for 5 years now, ever since my freshman year in college. I've successfully moved approximately 15 times over that period. I suppose by now, I've discovered which things I can and can't live without, which makes it much easier to travel. Every time I move, I pack less and less. It's a good thing, for the pack rat inside of me. All I have left to do, is, well, buy the tickets.