You know you're in Korea when...

…you own a shirt that says “I MARRIED am communist,” and socks that say “I am a cow and a orange.”

...you buy a pair of fake glasses, not for a costume party.

…an hour-long ride on the subway doesn’t seem that long.

…you call ramen “rameon” and go to restaurants to eat it.

...you can get through an entire chili and kimchi-laden meal without even breaking a sweat.

…you can translate Konglish.

…you use Konglish to order food (“I’ll have a baniLLa cone-uh please.”)

…you add “-uh” to the end of words without thinking about it. ("Nice-uh.")

…you know when to add “-uh” to make yourself understandable (i.e. "emart-uh").

...you can't keep your tenses, articles, or pronouns straight.

...you know the dance moves to a K-pop song.

...the 1000₩ jewelry store has nothing else to offer you.

...you own nail polish in every color (easy to do when it's 1000₩ a bottle!)

...you see heels in every weather.

...you start to think that getting a perm would be a good idea.

...you start to think bangs would be a good idea.

...your wardrobe is influenced by the concerns of 6 year-old girls.

...you make your arms into a giant "x" every time you say "no."

...you have to tell everyone your Korean age (which is 2 years older than your actual age).

...you have a vacation consisting of Thursday off, Friday morning at work, Friday afternoon off, Monday at work, Tuesday off.

...most males are wearing pants tighter than your own.

...you have to push your way through a crowd of soju-soaked ajusshis at 8:00pm on a Tuesday night to get to your apartment.

...you see a purse you like in the subway and then realize it belongs to a guy.

...you feel cheated if your meal doesn't come with a side of kimchi (even if you don't like kimchi).

...you start "yogiyo-ing" your friends (in other words summoning them with the Korean "Here!" phrase used in restaurants).

...you are careful not to write anyone's name is red

...a doctor's visit, complete with x-rays and prescription meds, costs less than $9.

...your paycheck is in the millions.

...sweet potatoes are a common ingredient in pizza and desserts.

...mayonnaise is considered a good salad dressing.

...you can pay less than $20 for a cab ride all the way across the city.

...you automatically say "annyeong" when you're leaving somewhere...annyeong!

Nearly lost in translation

Now that you’ve heard all about my kids’ language faux pas, it’s probably about time you’ve heard about mine. As is to be expected, living in a different country is not without its challenges. Language barriers in particular can be rather tricky, and Korea is no exception to this rule. Luckily, I’m more than adept at using body language to get a point across, and have no problem turning any conversation into a game of charades when necessary. But, this can only help so much. I often make a fool of myself gesticulating wildly to someone who wants no part in my corporeal convo and who won’t even give a helpful wave as they rattle off sentences that I clearly don’t understand. Indeed, the blame for this rests solely on me - I never made it around to enrolling in Korean classes – but it remains frustrating, nonetheless.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t to say I haven’t made an effort to pick up some Korean along the way (which, by the way, is much easier said than done.) After giving up on finding a Korean class that fit my budget, schedule, and general convenience I settled for teaching myself. By now I’ve acquired enough to direct a taxi, order a meal, ask for or decline various things in grocery store check out lines, and other language necessities like greetings, thank yous and no thank yous, and the counting systems for money and objects (yes, systems, plural). And when I got fed up with pointing and mumbling all the time I taught myself the Korean alphabet during my long subway rides by deciphering station names. Now I can sound everything out, making it much easier to can struggle my way through menus and maps, but don’t expect me to do much more.

Then there's all the unhelpful Korean I've picked up through my daily activities. After seven months of yoga four times a week, I'm pretty proficient in Korean yoga terms - things like bend, straighten, together, squeeze, point, lift, breathe-in, breathe-out...you get the gist - and can now take a class without needing any English. (Although, I have yet to find a use for this vocabulary anywhere else.) I’ve also, unfortunately, picked up a handful of curse words and other inappropriate terms from my classes of 13-year-olds who like to find English words that sound similar to bad Korean words and then try to surreptitiously slip them into class conversations. Let's just say they were not amused when I figured out what they were doing (which, needless to say, didn't take very long) and put an end to their little game.

There has also been the challenge of incorporating Korean gestures into my body language vocabulary. As I said, I’ve come to accept that charades is a necessary game to play when abroad, but even with body language there is a learning curve. For example, never will you see a Korean motion someone to them with an upturned palm, a gesture strictly reserved for calling to animals. Instead, Koreans turn their palm down. This has proven to be a rather hard habit to form (even now, 8 months in), usually resulting in an awkward sideways sweeping arm movement. There is also the preferred method of giving and receiving cash and important documents by touching the left hand to the forearm of the extended right arm, slightly less difficult to master.

Nevertheless, regardless of my meager attempts at learning enough pocket-Korean to get by, it’s been rough goings at times. Korean has so many sounds that we don’t have in English that serious mispronunciation is inevitable; putting the wrong emphasis on the combined k/g, b/p, l/r, and j/ch sounds, or the hard dd and tt sounds can render a word incomprehensible, and don’t even get me started on the vowels! Thus, half my attempts at communicating in Korean are for naught, making even the most mundane daily interactions more complicated than they need to be. A trip to the post office can result in an hour of waiting in the wrong lines and multiple drafts of a simple mailing form if the English-speaking employee is off duty. A meal can turn into a guessing game of sorts, leaving me hoping that the outcomes of any misunderstandings won’t be too disastrous. And a taxi ride can become a wild goose chase costing 20,000w more than it should because of a mispronounced syllable. (Somehow, my subway stop “Gang dong-gu Cheong yuk” is often mistaken for “Gangnam-gu Cheong yuk,” which is in a completely different part of town.) But luckily, Korean has also adopted many English words so that the problem is just translating the word into Konglish, (i.e. while you'll often get blank stares from ordering a "vanilla cone," substituting a b for the v and adding an “-uh” at the end and ordering a “banilla cone-uh” instead can get you exactly what you want.)

I pride myself in being an American who doesn't expect everyone to speak English. But I must say, I'm relieved when I find someone who does because most of the time I'm just lost in translation.

Kids say the darndest things

…oh indeed they do, especially when they’re Korean kids blundering through the English language. So, since my students’ bloopers give me plenty of laughter nearly every day, I figured I'd share a compilation of some of the best ones with you. Enjoy!



Me: “What kind of animal has feathers?”
…silence…
Me: “Do mammals have feathers? Do bears or people have feathers?”
Class: “No! Birds!”
Albert: “Teacher yeeesss! My dad many many feathers on arms! Black, long feathers…like this!”
Class: “Aaaaahh! Yes!”
Alex: “Teacher, yes! My too! My grandmother is big feathers on her face!”
Translation: “My dad has black hair on his arms.” “My grandmother also has some long hairs on her face.”

Me: “So, what can we learn from the Ugly Duckling? “
Lily, very seriously: “Teacher, I think North Korea is Ugly Duckling.”
Me: “I see. And why is that Lily?”
Lily, with a big smile on her face: “North Korea no is pretty. But if we no are mean, maybe it is a swan sometime!”

Jay: “Teacher, no are five senses! Two eyes, two ears, two nose holes, two hands, one mouth. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…NINE SENSES!”
Me: “Well Jay, your eyes both see, and seeing is the sense, so that is only one sense. So let’s count again…”
Tony, pointing to his crotch: “Teacher! Sense?!?”

Me: “Ok, don’t forget your essays! See you Friday!”
Max, pointing at my arm “Shelby Teacher, why your fur is gold?!”
Translation: “Why is your arm hair blonde?”

Me: “What kinds of animals did we learn about in science on Tuesday?”
Class: “Mam..manimals?..Marmals?”
Andy: “Mammaries!!!”
Translation: “Mammals!”

Tom: “Teacher, diet is English speaking?”
Me: “Yes, you mean diet like getting skinny? More small?”
Jay: “Teacher, yes! My mom, she is baby in stomach. Then hospital go, baby PONG!, rope cut, mom baby no…diet YES!”
Translation: “My mom had a baby so now she is not as big. Is this a diet?”

David: “Teacher, goodbye! See you in gradulations!”
Andy: “Yes teacher, goodbye! See you in 900 200 100!”
Translation: “We’ll be gone for a really long time while we brush our teeth.”



Danny: “Oh teacher! Trick! You are mischief!”
Translation: “Teacher, you’re being silly.”

Sam: "Done! Ho!"
Me: “Is everyone finished with this page? Can we go on?”
Andrew: “Yes teacher! Ho!”
Translation: "Done!" "Yes teacher! Let's move ahead!" **We read a story set in the old west, and not long thereafter my class was using "ho!" wherever and whenever they could. It took me awhile to break them of that habit.

Alice, whenever she gets a bad score on her vocab test: “Oh my gas rangey!”
Translation: “Oh my gosh!”

Flora: “Teacher, you are perm-ah?”
Noella: “Yes, perm-ah I think. But teacher, why your hair is long? You are La-pun-jell?!”
Translation: “Your hair is wavy today, did you get a perm?” “Yes, I think she got a perm. But why is your hair so long, are you Rapunzel?”

Paul, in his essay: “Pompeii was a obliteration town!!!”
Translation: “Pompeii was destroyed!”

Me: “So you can see, it was a normal day in Pompeii, but then what happened?”
Emily: “Volcano bump!”
Kai: “Volcano was an erection!”
Translation: “The volcano erupted.”(And the worst part about these situations is I just have to let it slide. If I draw my 12-year-olds' attention to an inappropriate word, I'll never hear the end of it.)

Well, that's all I have for now. But I hope you had a chuckle or two!

And the adventure continues...

With only four months left to go, my Korea-experience is beginning to wind down. But, while I was previously without a clue as to what I would be doing next, things finally fell into place in March. I was offered an internship position with DIS, the study abroad program I did two years ago, and accepted the offer without hesitation. Thus, I will be returning to Copenhagen at the end of July to take up my role as "Study Tours Intern" until September 2012.

Basically, I will be one of two interns organizing the study and adventure trips offered to DIS students. According to my job description, I'll be doing everything from marketing and website maintenance, to researching and leading the trips. If you know me at all, then you can imagine how perfect this position is for me - a good mix of work and pleasure from the looks of it! And on top of all that, the internship itself offers numerous opportunities for personal and professional development. So put simply, I'll be getting paid to challenge myself and have a grand adventure, all while living and working in a place that I love. Not too shabby, eh?

Of course, there are still plenty of kinks to work out: getting my visa (through the Swedish Embassy nonetheless), sorting out my contract here, and finding an apartment, but hey, that's all part of the adventure. And you know me, that's something I can't get enough of!

Back to school!

Exhausting, maddening, stressful, frustrating - these are all words I would use to describe the past month of work. Why? Because it's been the beginning of the new school year and, as most teachers would probably tell you, breaking in a new group of students, whether kindergarteners or college freshmen, is no easy feat. And for someone accustomed to all-nighters and an overpacked schedule, these are not adjectives I use lightly, but getting my newbies accustomed to the rules, schedule, system, and myself has been more taxing than I could have guessed. Indeed, I experienced some of this when I first arrived here in Korea, but even at that point it was already half way through the school year so the previous teacher had already done most of the work. This time, however, I'm getting the full experience, spending every morning repeating every sentence fifteen times, trying to become fluent in the very garbled English my kids speak, and continuously walking back and forth between the white board and the happy-face/sad-face disciplinary board. (The phrase "taking two steps forward and one step back" has taken on a whole new meaning during this process.)

The stress of the new semester was not made any easier by the state of the kindergarten, either. After spending our entire post-graduation planning week cutting and laminating paper, I was excited to meet my new class, but not ready for the ensuing chaos. The first week, in particular, was a constant uphill battle. With two new teachers, an all new Korean staff, and a remodeled office on the K-class floor, the kindergarteners weren't the only ones who didn't know what was going on. And not only did this cause many mishaps, miscommunication, and all around confusion, but books had yet to come, we had no pencils or erasers, and the schedule seemed to be changing by the minute. Uff, I'm glad that's all over.


This is not to say that it's all been bad. I've enjoyed getting to know my new class of eleven students: Albert, Flora, Clara, Alex, Noella, Peter, James, Michelle, Lea, David, and Andy. After three weeks together I can finally feel that we're warming up to each other and every day I discover new facets of their personalities. Already, Clara, Noella, and Flora have emerged as the class's queen bees, always showing of their new oversized bows and never failing to comment on my nail polish color; David and Michelle are the snugglers of the class, taking any opportunity they can to sit in my lap or hold my hand; James' shyness has already shifted into more of mild-mannered demeanor while Alex and Peter have blown me away by their intelligence and English skills; and Andy and Albert have proven to be quite the comedy duo, and thus quite the handful. It seems like we're more and more used to our new classroom dynamic and we're finally settling into a routine that works. And after a field trip and birthday party last week, it feels like we're finally a class and no longer strangers. Now I'm just excited to see their English skills take off!

This semester's elementary classes, on the other hand, have been quite the improvement. Originally when I found out I would be moving up a level for all of my classes (teaching 2nd semester and M5 instead of 1st semester and M4) I was rather dismayed; the prospect of having all the same students and thus repeating my hellish previous semester was less than desirable. But as it turns out, I was pleasantly surprised. For the most part, my new classes are full of new students, and the right combination of old students, who are well-behaved, like to participate, and are eager to learn. Even some of my students who were previously apathetic and full of attitude have been peer-pressured into working hard and paying attention, making my new classes much easier to teach. Now, instead of four out of control classes, I have three enjoyable classes and just one class that took all of the worst-behaved students from last semesters different classes and combined them into one. But I'll take a tough 40 minutes of an unbearable 4 hours any day.

Needless to say, it's been rough, but it's almost April and it can only go up from here. Plus, I often see my old students in the halls and stairwell and the enthusiasm behind their hello's, hugs, waves, and high-fives is great motivation to see how it goes with this new batch of kids.

A matter of routine

We humans are creatures of habit, so it’s unsurprising that even when faced with a new location and culture it doesn’t take long to fall into a routine. I may be halfway across the world, living in a country that is drastically different from my own in history, demographics, language, and culture, but my life here quickly adopted a routine, (whether out of habit or as a matter of coping is unimportant). Indeed, the largest change in routine has nothing to do with my move to Korea, but instead with my move from the academic world to the working world. But, take that out of the picture and my life is filled with many of the same mundane activities as before: working, running errands, and keeping house. I go to yoga four or five times a week, frequent the neighborhood gym, and meet friends at our usual restaurants, coffee shops, or bars for mid-week mental breaks. I’ve become partial to a certain pharmacy, grocery store, dry cleaner, phone card vendor, Mini-Stop convenience store, and even a shoe repairman who camps out under a tarp shoved in between two buildings. (Although, I must say I get disappointed when I suddenly come to find that my favorite grocery store or dry cleaner has disappeared or been replaced, due to Korea’s odd habit of tearing down businesses without warning and putting up replacements within days.)

In addition to my neighborhood stops and shops, there are the familiar neighborhood faces. The cashiers at the grocery store who have come to know I never need a bag, and the subway Mini-Stop woman who smilingly gives me freebies insisting “gift-uh! Ok!” The young bank security guard who assists all my transactions (requested or not) and is never bashful to remind me that he “very much likes to assistance the pretty foreigner.” The kimbap cheonguk employees: an ajumma who maternally pats me on the bum saying “pretty pretty” and the ajusshi who likes to lurk as Allison and I eat and do our crossword puzzles until he thinks it’s an opportune moment to practice his English, saying things like “you friend, but you stranger here,” “ah America, what colony you from?” and, “My think you have fun with boyfriends last night! Ha Ha!” And of course there are always the students who live nearby and who are always overeager to wave to their teacher in the street.

This isn't to say that everything has become commonplace, my neighborhood always has something up its sleeve to surprise me. Nevertheless, life and all its routines must go on, in the country I call home or not.

Kindie Cares

My time with my first batch of kindergarteners has come to an end after a grueling month of finishing all of the bookwork and practicing for graduation. For the graduation ceremony, each kindergarten class was required to put together a ten-minute performance made up of songs, skits, and speeches that would demonstrate to the parents some of what the kids had learned throughout the year. Though most classes chose cute skits of old fables or speeches about their favorite themes, our performance, titled “Save the Earth,” was more of a public service announcement addressing the problems our world is facing and how we need to change they way we live. When it had come time to pick a theme for K-Blue’s graduation performance back in January, it wasn’t hard to settle on this theme because even though we spent a lot of time everyday sorting out menial matters such as which chair everyone got to sit in (even though they were all seemingly the same), having their pencils perfectly sharp at all times, keeping their crayons organized in their own versions of rainbow order, and making sure they got the glue with their name on it, my kindergarten class had also expressed even bigger concerns about the environment and the human condition. Ever since we had learned about the environment and pollution, my kids became hypersensitive to waste andpollution; every morning declaring that the weather was, first and foremost, smoggy; screaming “Teacher! Pollution!” at the sight of the exhaust coming out of cars and even the steam from their own breaths; and staging dramatics about wasting water at lunchtime. (Not too long ago, when Claire didn’t finish her water at lunch Joseph and Lily encouraged her to finish with “Claire, no trash the water! Save the Earth!” thus leading Claire to chug the rest of the water, choke, and then after recovering, show me her empty water bottle while proudly stating, “Shelby Teacher, I no trash the water. I save the Earth!”)

The Macalester student and dance teacher in me went all out, resulting in a performance complete with choreography, props, and lots of liberal sentiment. The kids were so excited to be doing something to “help the Earth” that by the time graduation rolled around K-Blue’s performance was so heart-warming it would have made any charity drive proud. (You can watch the video below.) The kids started the performance singing the Discovery Channel’s version of “Boom De Ya Da,” and giving speeches about what a great place the Earth is. Then they sang the Glee version of John Lennon’s “Imagine,” signing the chorus with the sign language I learned from YouTube. Their next speeches talked about how the Earth is hurting from pollution and war, which they followed with a shortened version of Michael Jackson’s “Heal the World,” during which they helped each other put bandaids on a giant Earth in the background to symbolize fixing the world’s problems. Finally, they talked about how we can make a difference and put paper children on the world while singing Michael Jackson’s “We are the World.” They ended by demanding, “We want to help the Earth! DO YOU?” Maybe it wasn’t your typical kindergarten production, but when they performed at graduation, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with goosebumps. Of course, graduation wasn't only the performances, they gave collective speeches to their parents, friends, and teachers; presented flowers to their teachers and received certificates; and did traditional Korean drum performances, as well.

Thursday night, the official graduation, I felt both immensely proud and extremely sad. Their performance showed me just how much each of my students had accomplished and grown during my time with them, and the pride and gratification in their parents’ faces reassured me that I had done a good job teaching their children. At the same time, saying goodbye to them was harder than I would have ever expected. In the past seven months each and every one of my twelve kindergarteners touched my heart in their own special way and I fell in love with them as if they were my own children; I had a hard time holding back a flood of tears as they repeatedly hugged me and thanked me with flowers and homemade cards, each child more tearful than the last. By the end of the night, I was left reassured that I had at least made some impact in their young lives, and as sad as I am for this class to move on, they made me excited to meet the next group.

Shredding some Korean slopes

With spring quickly approaching a bunch of us from work decided it was prime time to hit the Korean slopes, so last weekend eighteen of us headed over to the other side of the peninsula for a day of spring snowboarding at the High1 Ski Resort in Gangwan-Do. It was easy enough, we took the bus from Jamsil for ₩45,000, which covered our roundtrip fare and lift ticket, and after two hours we arrived at the base and were able to rent all of our gear, coats and pants included. I did my best to lose my Coloradoan pretention and just enjoy being back on a board even if the altitude and slope selection weren’t meeting my Rocky Mountain standards, and I must admit, the snowboarding itself was pretty decent – the weather was warm and sunny, the snow wasn’t bad, and the company was great. All in all, I had a good day of spring snowboarding but after a lifetime of almost exclusively boarding in Colorado, it was hard to ignore all of the Korean quirks. At least eighty percent of the people on the slopes were pimped out in baggy neon gear like you see the pros wearing, regardless of their skiing and boarding aptitude (this type of attire is usually reserved for those with the skills to match it); at the top of the lifts you were greeted by dancing lifties wearing headsets and instructing you to “Stand up now! Ok! To the right! Thank you!;” and no matter where you went on the mountain they were blasting K-pop music from really tall speakers. To say the least, it definitely left me missing Colorado!

Most of the people in our group were beginners so I spent the day with a couple of the guys, breaking only for a lunch of Kentucky Fried Chicken and Carlsberg. The only incident of the day was a cafeteria-fight with an ajusshi custodian who picked a fight with us and literally tried to throw us out of the coffee shop (manhandling us and our trays) instead of simply explaining we needed to buy another coffee. Other than that, we had a fun day, making silly videos while racing down the slopes and avoiding the hoards of people clogging the runs and lift lines as best as we could. At the end of the day we spent some well-earned time in the hot tubs before retiring to our luxurious condo for a night of pizza and card games. Even though we returned to Seoul the next day, it was a nice little retreat before the crunch of the final week of the school year.

The Seoul train

Clean, timely, and expansive, Seoul’s subway system is said to be one of the most modern in the world. I would also argue that it’s also one of the world’s most orderly. After spending the first few weeks appreciating the efficiency of Seoul public transport, I began to notice some curious facets of Korean subway etiquette. For one, any visit to a subway platform in Seoul will present commuters patiently lined up for the oncoming train to the right and left of the train doors; a sight that would send many a-New Yorker reeling. Even in rush hour when literally hundreds of Koreans are pouring in and out of every train, there seems to be some method to the madness (even though the sheer number of people squeezing into each train car can make you feel like sardines have it pretty nice). And regardless of the time of day, volume of passengers, or subway line, it’s never hard to notice the cleanliness of the subways – graffiti, hardened gum, and trash conspicuous only by their absence – and the quietness of the passengers – most of whom are simply dozing or watching TV and playing games on their phones (yes, there’s perfect service even several stories down).

In addition to it being a rather pleasant experience to ride the subways here, it can also be rather entertaining. The ajashis selling their wares never fail to surprise, vending everything from knee braces and razors plated in fake gold, to drain cleaners and exercise bands. The videos demonstrating how to react in emergency subway situations are often less informational and more humorous, showing re-enactments of bomb blasts and crashes that wouldn’t even earn a spot on daytime. Of course there are also always the people who fall asleep and can’t help but bob on their neighbor’s shoulder for the whole 45-minute ride. And then there are the sights you just can’t be prepared for: an awkward teenager surreptitiously sketching you on a scrap of paper, a young woman robotically chewing up pepero sticks and spitting them back into their box, or a lone tween taking dozens of pictures of herself on her iPhone. Needless to say, whether passing the time by reading or people watching, commuting by Seoul subway is hardly boring.

Ringin' in the Rabbit Year

Lunar New Year – a Korean national holiday that affords a chance to prepare for the New Year (again), relax with a few days off of work, and celebrate turning a year older. Yes, in addition to the bowing to grandparents, eating of tteok guk, and wearing of hanboks, Koreans also turn a year older on New Year’s (lunar or solar, depending on who you ask) after eating a special soup. This means that as of this week I am now (drum roll please) twenty-four! (How is this possible, you may ask, seeing as I was born in July of 1988? Well, not only do you turn older on the new year and not on your birthday, but Koreans are already one year old at birth, making it possible for me to have aged two years since my arrival in Seoul.)

We spent the week before Sul-Nal discussing the year of the rabbit and all of these traditions in kindergarten, but I must say, I did a lot more learning than teaching that week (I still don’t completely understand why they expect the foreign teachers to teach our Korean students about their own culture). Finally after learning all about Korean New Year traditions, the kids showed us waygooks just how to celebrate the New Year at the Sul-Nal event on Monday when they came to school in their hanboks (traditional Korean dress), played games like yut nori and jae gi, learned how to bow, and ate rice cake soup.

As for my celebration of Sul-Nal, I didn’t don a hanbok or bow to my grandparents, but I did have a very relaxing break here in Seoul. My staycation mainly consisted of reading books, watching movies, and eating good food with Allison, but we did take breaks from our sloth and gluttony with visits to Changdeokgung Palace, a traditional tea-house in Insadong, and a piercing parlor in Apgujeong. Mellow, yes, but just what I needed.

Jerry in the limelight

My kindergarten was very concerned when they first asked, “Teacher, you are ‘dum dum duu duuuuuum?’” (humming the wedding song to mean ‘married’) and I said no; after all, aren’t all grown ups married?! But, the knowledge that I had a boyfriend helped ease their anxiety and from that point on my kindergarten wheedled out detail after detail about Jerry until he became such an integral part of class discussion that it felt as if Jerry and K-Blue class had already been introduced. That is why it came as no surprise when everyday throughout the end of November and beginning of December, one of my kindergarteners would squeal “Shelby Teacher! December it is Jean birthday and almost Christmas. And December it is Jerry come!” And when the day finally came for the class to meet “King Peanut Butter Jerry” (as the class had nicknamed him through a series of inside jokes), they were nothing short of star-struck.

Jerry and I arrived in the classroom a few minutes early and as the bell rang and my class rounded the corner they steadily grew quieter and their eyes got wider. Despite all of their bubbly six-year excitement in the previous weeks, they were all exceedingly bashful. Well, all except Joseph who, after only a moment’s pause, leapt onto Jerry to give him his best kindie bear-hug. The shyness lingered as I let them ask Jerry questions, but until Lara asked Jerry where he was from and Claire cut off his response with “Romania! Dracula! You are VAMPIRE!...ooooohhhh!” With that the nervousness evaporated in a storm of giggles and the class seemed much more at ease as Jerry taught them how to say hello and goodbye in Romanian (for the rest of the week “servus” and “pa pa” became common vocabulary, even though they were rarely used correctly). By lunchtime, even the most timid students had loosened up and ate at top-speed so they could have plenty of time with their new plaything; I must say, it was rather adorable to watch them unabashedly hugging him, using him as a jungle gym, and dragging him to join in their games.

But, the fun didn’t stop at kindergarten. Somehow some of the thirteen year-olds had this unshakeable idea that Jerry was a famous professional basketball player. For weeks they begged me to bring him into class, but the fifth floor language program isn’t as welcoming to outside guests, so I promised he would come wait for me after school one day and they could meet him there. Thus, when I came down the stairs after work I saw Jerry being mobbed by half a dozen of my students all snapping photos with their cellphones and demanding autographs as they waved pens and papers in his face. Needless to say, the other teachers were all very confused as they watched this scene unfold, but I was laughing to hard to explain right away.

Clearly, Jerry was a hit at GKI. All the way until Christmas break my kindies pouted about Jerry not being able to come back, and to this day continue to frequently ask about him. And after my older kids’ met Jerry, there really was no convincing them that he isn’t famous (one of them even informed me he went home and laminated Jerry’s signature!) and I’ve long since given up on dissuading them from trying to see him on CNN. I bet he never thought he'd leave Korea with celebrity status.

'Twas the season

This year, I overcompensated for missing Thanksgiving at home by celebrating a double Thanksgiving abroad. Though we didn’t get the day off work, I spent the evening of Thanksgiving as close to America as I could get without leaving Seoul: on the Yongsan military base with a fellow Mac alum, currently working at the embassy on tour for the Foreign Service, and his family. (On the base it’s easy to forget you’re in one of East Asia’s metropolises, its tree lined streets and rows of ranch-style houses eerily resembling a midwestern neighborhood from the 1950’s.) With the cheerful family banter, a table full of home-cooked Thanksgiving fixings, and post-dinner word games it almost felt like home.

For Thanksgiving round two, I joined nearly two-dozen other teachers for a potluck-style Thanksgiving feast in Paju. And a feast it was: there were enough “grandma’s best casseroles,” “mom’s special stuffings,” and “secret recipe pies” to feed a small country, but we all stuffed our homesick stomachs with fourth and fifth helpings until the plates were clean and we were blissfully and sickeningly full. Not too shabby for my first Thanksgiving as an expat.

With Thanksgiving over, however, homesickness quickly set in. You see, growing up Thanksgiving always marked the beginning of my favorite time of year: the Christmas season, which, for my family, lasted all of December. Going to bed Thanksgiving night was almost more exciting than Christmas Eve because I knew the next morning, without fail, I would wake up to the sound of my mom’s favorite Christmas carols and a house in disarray; garlands, twinkly lights, and Santa Clauses replacing the books and picture frames that usually adorned our shelves. Of course, since I went out of state for college, this wasn’t my first Thanksgiving away from home, nor was it the first Christmas season I missed. In fact, every December for the past four years was full of too many papers and too little Christmas cheer. Nevertheless, the promise of returning to a home full of Christmas warmth and traditions always served as a light at the end of the finals tunnel.

Let it Snow!
Originally uploaded by shelbs1988

This being my first Christmas away from home and my family, I started out just trying to ignore Christmas all together so I wouldn’t feel homesick. Eventually a handful of care packages with Christmas treats and decorations convinced me to do away with my Scrooge façade and I did what I could to embrace the season by going slightly Christmas crazy with my kindergarten. (Hey, there’s nothing quite like experiencing the magic of the Christmas season with children.) We turned our classroom into a little Christmas haven using construction paper, felt, tinsel, and glitter. We made snowmen, snowflakes, red and green paper chains, hand print wreaths, stockings, and Christmas stars. My favorite craft was probably our construction paper Santas that the kids called “Kimchi Santas” when they accidentally made them too skinny to be true cookie-fed Santas. In no time, my class full of divas mastered all the best carols, including “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” and “ Winter Wonderland,” and we spent an afternoon taking around homemade ornaments and caroling to the other kindergarten classes. And even though we were at school on Christmas Eve, our Christmas performance, visit from Santa, viewing of Frosty the Snowman, and gift exchange filled the day with plenty of Christmas spirit.

More than anything else, the thing that really got me over my holiday funk and through the holidays was Jerry’s month-long visit. After 4 months apart, his arrival in mid-December couldn’t have come soon enough or had better timing. For the two weeks leading up to our Christmas break in Cambodia, we put in plenty of time and miles on the subway, leisurely shopping, eating, dancing, and wandering our way through many of Seoul’s hotspots including Olympic Park, Itaewon, Hongdae, Myeongdong, and COEX. The whole while, we enjoyed the season Seoul-style eating hearty Korean food, Christmas shopping in bustling Namdaemun market, walking along the festooned Cheonggyecheon (the whole time criticizing the garish light displays adorning every surface), and, in keeping with tradition, taking in a local performance of the Nutcracker (which was unfortunately sub-par, but enjoyable nonetheless). We even brought some luxury and comfort to our holiday celebrations with a stay in the swanky W Hotel that's perched on a mountain overlooking the Han River here in Seoul and a black-tie dinner at Papa John's (yes, the American pizza place. But don't judge, it's quite the treat for those of us living abroad - homey comfort food like good ole American pizza can be hard to come by.)

All in all, not too shabby. Perhaps my 2010 holiday season didn’t quite follow tradition, but in the end, it was not only enjoyable but more than I could have ever asked for.

Movin' on up

New Apartment
Originally uploaded by shelbs1988

One of the great benefits of being a teacher in Korea is that, in most cases, the schools provide your apartment in addition to your salary. But the thing about having free accommodations is you kind of just have to take what you’re given, which in my case meant a high-maintenance, dilapidated cubicle. I dealt with it as best I could (hey, it hasn’t been that long since my dorm-days), but when the school replaced my peeling wallpaper with glittery ladybugs and iridescent checkers and my antique boiler died, promptly subjecting me to two weeks of icy showers, I’d had enough.

Luckily, the foreign director at my school had also had enough – of my maintenance complaints, that is – and suggested I move into another teacher’s apartment after their contract ended. I obviously jumped at the opportunity, as really anything could be an improvement, and thus I find myself starting the New Year in a new and highly improved apartment. Not only is my new apartment closer to school and about three times bigger, but it has a separate kitchen, bedroom, and living room, meaning I actually have space to move and live in without having to use my bed as an all-purpose sitting-dining-working-sleeping-social space. I even have a couch that folds out into a bed! From now on everything from coming home from work to having friends over will be much more comfortable and enjoyable, not to mention more grown-up. Let's just say: I've upgraded and it feels glorious.

Model behavior

Randomness is an inherent part of traveling, and is undeniably one of my favorite parts of venturing abroad. Almost unfailingly, the experiences that were unplanned and unexpected throughout my travels are the ones that I hold nearest and dearest to my heart. Each new place brings with it its own idiosyncrasies, surprises, and entertainments; to this, Seoul is no exception. So when Allison and I were asked to be models in a make up competition, how could we resist?

The weekend before the competition we arrived at the Seoul Fashion Design School in Gangnam not sure what to expect but ready for anything, or so we thought. We were expecting a once in a lifetime experience, something fun and interesting to write home about, take some interesting pictures of, and get a few laughs out of. We took the term “model” loosely, thinking it was just a more polite way of saying we were going to be make up test dummies on which to practice the latest and greatest trends in smokey eyes and bold lips. Never did we expect to be actual models. For starters, in a world where models are by definition 6 feet tall, size 0, and are set apart from the rest by unique and interesting features, we fall well below the bar. Under these standards, we are both too short, too fat, and too plain. Incredibly, Korean standards are less demanding, putting us well above the bar. Both at 5’7” we were at least above average but with the extra four inches from our high heels we could even be considered “tall,” our curves weren’t considered “fat” but “glamorous,” and being the only foreigners in the competition, our Western features weren’t only desirable but set us apart from the dozens of Korean models. Somehow, we had found ourselves models in one of Korea’s most prestigious competitions for make-up artists.

As we spent several hours trying on our hand made dresses and sitting while our make up artists tried to adjust their make up designs to our western proportions, they gushed over our height, small faces, and large eyes; fretted about how to fit our curves into the A-cup bodices of our dresses; and discussed just how high our heels needed to be, practically rejoicing when I proved I could strut my stuff in the four-inch stilettos I had brought along for good measure. By the time our trial day had ended, it was quite clear that this competition was about more than just makeup. It seemed we had volunteered ourselves to be canvases in what was turning out to be a human art exhibition.

The following weekend, the weekend of the competition, it sank in just how serious our roles were. The night before the big day we stayed near the school at one of the make up artist’s apartments so there would be no delay in starting our day. After our 4:30am wake up call, we hurried to make it to get dressed, get breakfast, and make it to the school by 5:00am to get our hair done. As Julie bought us a breakfast of egg McMuffins and coffee she informed us that this would be our last food and drink for the rest of the day (we couldn’t risk messing up our look or schedule with spills or trips to the restroom). We were real models. But, too late to back out now. So 2 hours and several pounds of fake hair, hairspray, and bobby pins later, we left the school to take vans to the Kintext Convention Center in Ilsan, a suburb of Seoul.

From the moment we left the school we made quite the spectacle. In the few yards between the school and the vans several gaping Koreans, probably on their way home from a night of bar-hopping, stopped us to take pictures on their iphones. (The first of many impromptu photoshoots throughout the day.) The gawking was understandable though - while Allison had her hair piled onto her head in a bouffant-meets-treasure-troll look, I was channeling Queen Amidala with my hair and braided hair extensions twisted into two huge buns on the sides of my head. Who wouldn’t stare? Our day in the limelight had begun.

Once we got to the convention center we were completely at the whims of our make up artists. For the next three hours we sat as they applied the final touches, when the actual competition started they would have no time to waste on hair and accessories. As they gave us costumes and applied feather headdresses, hair jewels, 2-inch long fingernails, jewelry, and tubs of glitter we were poked, prodded, and dragged all around the convention center. When they wanted us to sit, we sat; when they wanted us to move, we moved; when they wanted us to pose we posed. Yet their instructions only came minute by minute, we still had only a vague idea what would happen during the competition and what our roles would be. One moment we would be “go, go, go!” and it would seem as if something big was about to happen, the next moment we were back in the dark, utterly confused and waiting for someone to tell us what to do. Maybe it was the language barrier, but a lot of the time it seemed they were being purposely elusive, no one even attempting to enlighten us.

When the competition part of the day finally rolled around, both of us were exhausted, starving, thirsty, and in pain from the pounds of fake hair, feathers, and product that were piled on our heads. For the next hour and a half we sat perfectly still and model-like as make up was applied to our faces, necks, shoulders, and chests; the roving judges monitoring our progress. By the time the bell dinged, signaling the end of the competition, we had been transformed. Between Allison’s portrayal of a contemporary Maria Antoinette and my resemblance to Lady Gaga, we stood in stark contrast to the dozens of Korean models covered in feathers, tassels, and rhinestones and resembling glorified Vegas showgirls.



By this time, Allison was glaring and I was shaking, but we did our best to look poised and modelesque as the judges continued to roam and scrutinize. (Not as hard as you would think, we looked 7 feet tall next to our make up artists and with the make up completed we looked as if we had just walked off Hollywood movie sets.) Soon we were milling about with the other models, thinking we were close to finished and waiting to be told what to do next, when all of a sudden Allison was being dragged off for photoshoot (we’re still not sure what for) and I was being pushed to the front of a queue leading up to none other than a runway. As music blared and cameras flashed I strutted my stuff, posing and pouting to the best of my abilities (all the while trying to remember every ANTM episode I’d seen in high school). And as far as I’m concerned my debut on the runway was a success; making it off the stage without incident was good enough for me.

Weak-kneed I found Allison (who had somehow bypassed the runway ordeal) and posed for dozens of pictures with Korean spectators before running off to sneak bites of gimbap from our make up artists’ bags. It was finally time for the results and to our surprise and our artists’ delight, Allison and I took first and second place, respectively, in the entire competition. This of course prompted another lengthy photoshoot, but eventually we were allowed to start the long-awaited process of becoming our normal selves again. When it was all said and done, we walked out of there one crazy experience and 100,000\ richer, but more than happy to leave the modeling life behind to dig into a feast of fried chicken and cold beer at the nearest Chicken Hof.

The amazing race

Chuseok – the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving when Koreans spend time with family, give thanks for the fall harvest, and honor their ancestors. Most Seoullites head to their family homes in other cities or the country, but teachers also use the short break from school as an excuse to vacate the city and visit some of the other Korean sites. As Maria, Allison, and I tried to decide what to do with our few days of freedom, it quickly became clear that going to one of the must-see locations was out of the question. The three of us had only arrived in Korea within six weeks of the holiday, and by then domestic flights and bullet trains to popular destinations like Busan and Jeju Island were already fully booked. But we were itching to explore our new resident country and a staycation was less than desirable. So we hedged our bets and decided to venture into the nearby Yellow Sea to the island of Muuido.


Even with a forecast of rain, we wanted to get an early start to escape the stifling heat and a Seoul that was quickly becoming a ghost town so on Tuesday morning, Maria and I set out at 9:30am, a pair of travel-hungry teachers ready to seize the Chuseok holiday. With $10 a day tin huts on the beach calling our names and an estimated travel time of 3 hours, there was little that could hold us back. That is, until we were halted dead in our tracks by torrential rains and monsoon floods. (Welcome to September in Korea.) When we got off the subway in Incheon, we stopped for a bite to eat in the Chinatown right across from the subway station.During lunch our Korean friend Jun called, cautioning us about the impending storm and urging us to return to Seoul. “You will drown. You will be ghosts floating in the Yellow Sea!” he warned. Looking at the light drizzle outside, we laughed at his hyperbole and concern.



Moments after we stepped out of the restaurant we were caught in a downpour. We took cover under the awning of a closed convenience store figuring the rain would soon subside. We were there for an hour and a half. Within minutes the road turned into a gushing river, the rapids collecting all sorts of debris (including Maria’s umbrella) and sweeping it past us down the hill. At one point, we were joined by a pair of Jehova’s Witnesses, but just as they were about to start evangelizing the rising water forced us to retreat onto some plywood tables and our guests made a dash for it down the road, clutching their bibles to their chests and ineffectually holding newspapers over their heads. When the rain slowed we evacuated our shelter for the subway station at the bottom of the hill, only to find that it too had been flooded. It was not long before we discovered that all routes of transit were blocked. We spent an hour in a taxi futilely trying to circumvent the flooding, but wound up right back where we started.

By the time we were able to board a bus to the airport, it was already 6:30 and by the time we arrived at the airport it was 7:08, the ferry to the island closed at 7:30. I’m sure we looked ridiculous as we dashed up and down escalators, our flip flops flying off, our soggy pants sliding down, and umbrellas and backpacks banging against our heads. With only fifteen minutes left we hopped in the first taxi we could find, threw money at the cabbie, and urged him to go “fast! Fast! Kam-sa ham nida!” As the taxi pulled up to the ferry terminal we only had four minutes to spare. With the ferry about to pull away, we raced down the dock and hopped onto the ferry as they powered up the engines. Stepping onto the deck of the ferry we were nothing less than euphoric and our laughing, jumping, high-fiving, and hugging earned us some strange looks and a request for a picture from the Korean Ferry crew.

The trip that was supposed to only last 3 hours had turned into 10. We walked into camp to the sheer astonishment of Allison and James (who had somehow managed to bypass the flooding, leaving hours after us but arriving hours before), soggy yet triumphant. Within minutes we were scarfing down a convenience store meal of rameon, chips, Ghana chocolate, and Cass, savoring every sodium-saturated bite. It wasn’t long before the rain returned, but after our jubilant arrival nothing could dampen our spirits so for the rest of our night we cozied up in our little hut on the beach, playing cards, listening to music, and laughing entirely too much.

Waking up the next day after our first chilly night since arriving in Korea, we stepped out onto the sun drenched beach. For the next two days we spent our days lounging in the sun, playing cards, and eating rameon from the convenience store. The nights we passed eating galbi at the beachside restaurants, bonding with other foreigners over bonfires, sizzling sam gap sal, and Cass, and admiring the stars. Even though I had to head back to Seoul after only 3 days to make it to work on Friday afternoon (I still don’t entirely understand the reasoning behind this) I felt more than satisfied with my first Korean adventure.

Seoul mates

I came to Korea not quite sure what I’d gotten myself into; with little to no idea about the job I would be taking, the people I would meet, and the life I would live. I knew of three other people from Macalester who were also moving to Seoul at the same time, but to say I knew them would be a huge exaggeration. Despite Mac’s size, I had only a vague idea of who these fellow Scots were and I had no expectations that our common collegiate background would spawn friendships of any sort. That being said, I met Maria, a girl who I shared many mutual friends with at school but had only met a few times, for a night out in the city shortly after we arrived in Seoul. Very quickly we discovered Mac wasn’t the only thing we had in common; serious long distance relationships, mutual feelings about Seoul and our jobs, and similar longings for travel and adventure immediately bonded us. With befriending Maria came the bonus of befriending her coworker Britney, who just happens to be a Minnesotan who went to school in the same conference as Macalester. Around the same time, a coworker introduced me to Allison, another Seoul newbie, Wash U alum, and fellow Europhile who conveniently lives two subway stops away and shares many of my passions, interests, and opinions about Seoul, the world, and life. The four of us had made quite the little quartet, taking Seoul by force and trying to make the most of our time here.


As you’ve probably noticed throughout my blogs, these girls have become my best friends in Korea with whom I’ve already shared many an adventure, thus I thought they finally deserved a proper introduction. Without these girls, the past four months would have gone very differently. Being able to share my time in Seoul with friends I deeply care about has added to my Korea experience in more ways than I care to go into here, and I’m so lucky to have found them. As Tennessee Williams said, “Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose," and these lovely ladies have definitely played a large part in my Seoul life.

November blues

November has always been my least favorite month, and this year has not provided any exception. After a jam-packed August, September, and October fueled by the momentum that only comes with being new to a city, country, and culture, I crashed. I had been warned that my first several months here would be hampered by unshakeable illness due to the pollution and constant exposure to germy children. But after making it through the first few months with nothing more than a short-lived cold, I thought I had gotten off scot-free. November came to prove me wrong with a vengeance.

Plagues of interminable mucus, an incessant cough, several bouts of cold and flu bugs, and insomnia left me lethargic and fatigued. This understandably resulted in an excruciatingly lackluster month in which I did little more than rest and mope. Not until the end of the month was I able to do anything more notable than having several movie marathons or buying a down coat in preparation for the ill-reputed yet seemingly non-existent Korean winter. And after a visit to a Korean doctor procured an x-ray reminiscent of a smoker’s lung, I floated around in a haze of several rounds of varying prescription and over-the-counter drugs, both Korean and American, until my hacking was reduced to a much more tolerable light cough. Luckily, the worst of it seems to be over with November finally coming to a close and Christmas in sight.

Yogification

Being a dancer, I always thought yoga would be a good fit. But in the US yoga is trendy and thus it’s expensive, so I never wanted to fork over the money to find out whether or not I liked it. But in Korea, where trendy doesn’t equal expensive, it’s a different story. Here, yoga is actually absurdly cheap (as long as it’s not Bikram yoga) despite its popularity. So I figured now was a great time to see if my suspicions about yoga were correct.

Within a few weeks of arriving here, I joined Prana Yoga Studio just two blocks down the street and instantly became an addict. (At $2 a class, it’s hard not to be!) Within a week I was already a regular at the 7:00 class taught daily by Chin, an adorable Korean woman with an endearing personality and English word bank of about 30 words. She also quickly took a liking to me, I think partly because I was one of three foreigners in the class (now one of one) and partly because she mistook my God-given gumbi-ness and dance-endowed body placement for yoga expertise. Even after discovering that I’m no veteran yoga-goer, made clear by my pitiful balance and the fact that I’m hopeless when it comes to deep breathing, she has set the bar high.

From day one Chin has been nothing short of persistent in challenging me to build my yoga prowess. She is unrelenting in her battle to get me to breathe properly, informs me regularly that I need to do lots of sit ups in my spare time (often using the entire class’s English abilities to stage this conversation), and encourages me into all the pretzel-like poses that no one else is willing to attempt, all the while asking “You are ok? You are ok?” We have definitely had moments where she pushed me into some position so bizarre or abnormal that I simply had to laugh, my limbs bent in ways they definitely shouldn’t be. With her help, I have finally conquered the rooster, embryo in womb, supported headstand, and final asanas, all of which my body had stubbornly rejected for the first 2 months or so. All of this has earned me one of the coveted spots in the front of the class.

Yes, the language barrier poses some obstacles, but I’ve memorized the general routine and can pick up most variations from watching. Plus, if I can’t figure out my body placement with the help of my 19 years of dance, Chin will come along and manhandle me into the proper position. I’ve also picked up on some Korean words. Something that sounds like “bashigo” is inhale, while exhale is something close to “daeshigo.” There’re also a handful of other terms that I won’t even try to spell but I at least recognize as cues to do various forms of stretching, breathing, or moving. Of course, there are always times when I am utterly lost in translation, like those times when Chin will give an instruction that makes no sense in the context – “point” and “jump” are very basic instructions but when I’m being told to point my hip or jump when I’m sitting on the floor I’m at a complete loss. I have yet to figure out the translation.

With all of the sweating and pretzeling I wouldn’t say yoga has been as relaxing as it’s cracked up to be. But even with the ratio of time spent relaxing to contorting being about one to three, the last 15 minutes of class are enough to shake off any of the stress and strain still clinging to me after a day with screaming children. I must admit, the defining moment of my whole yoga experience comes in these last 15 minutes when we simply lay on the heated floors under flannel blankets while Chin circulates amongst the class, dotting our noses with eucalyptus oil before commencing a brief but wonderful arm and chest massage.

With all of that, I always leave the studio feeling some combination of unwound, triumphant, exhausted, and content. And as Chin always offers her farewell of “Okaaay. Thank yooou. See you Monday!” (no matter what day it is) I never fail to leave smiling.

The precarious peninsula

The BBC calls the Korean peninsula “one of the world’s geo-political hotspots,” a categorization made quite clear yesterday when North and South Korea exchanged fire on the South Korean island of Yeonpyeong. It’s often easy to forget the precariousness of the situation on my peninsula of residence – taking for granted that right across the border, which is not all that far away, resides one of the world’s most elusive and ominous regimes. But it becomes hard to ignore when it shows up in my inbox; the subject lines of emails from the BBC, New York Times, and US Embassy in Seoul blaring “Artillery Firing into Northwest Islands off the Coast,” “Border Clash Prompts South Korean Missile Warning,” and “South Korea Scrambles Jets.”

Is this the beginning of round two of the Korean War, or is it just more of North Korea’s posturing? It’s probably too soon to tell, but I hope for the latter. As the New York Times so kindly points out, “A face-off on the Korean Peninsula would require tens of thousands of troops, air power and the possibility of a resumption of the Korean War, a battle that American officials believe would not last long, but might end in the destruction of Seoul if the North unleashed artillery batteries near the border.” Slightly unsettling.

Of course, this is not the first time North Korea’s threats have been brought to my attention - I signed my contract not long after a North Korean torpedo sank a South Korean navy ship, making “What about North Korea?” the first question everyone asked after I announced I was moving to Seoul. Nevertheless, it’s understandably disconcerting to have it pointed out on every media outlet that your place of residence, which happens to be the main target of a crazy military regime, could possibly be in imminent danger.

All that being said, there’s not much to do besides hope for the best, wait to see how things pan out, and take the necessary precautions (i.e. registering with the embassy, carrying a passport and cash, and having an exit strategy.)

For articles see the links below:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-11823474

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/24/world/asia/24nkorea.html?_r=1&ref=global-home

http://www.kansascity.com/2010/11/23/2467305/obama-agrees-to-military-exercises.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/25/world/asia/25seoul.html?ref=global-home

Halloween shenanigans

The Addams Family
Originally uploaded by shelbs1988

Halloween has never been at the top of my list of favorite holidays, but I must say that this Halloween was above par – there’s nothing quite like celebrating Halloween festivities with a bunch of 6 year olds. It was a week-long event, with the holiday merriment including lots of Halloween art; a parent open-house with mummy wrapping, edible spider art, a monster mash walk, scary stories, and monster puppet-making; Halloween BINGO; jack-o-lantern carving; and goodie bag decorating; all culminating in pseudo trick-or-treating and a costume fashion show on Friday.

If the week itself wasn’t exhausting, Friday sure was. Finding ways to entertain costumed children who are overloaded on sugar is no easy feat. Luckily, my class’s costumes weren’t too over-the-top. In order to keep the boys from all coming as Spiderman and the girls from all being fairy princesses, classes get costume assignments. My class got “traditional costumes around the world.” (Mac people: don’t worry, I’m aware that this category crosses all sorts of PC lines.) We had costumes representing Japan, China, England, Switzerland, Mexico, and Native Americans along with a Robin Hood, Zoro and Snow White (who were relegated to the ranks of England, Mexico, and Germany, respectively). I was informed that my costume needed to be more than an accessory or two so I decided on Native American as my traditional costume of choice and ran with it. I must say, I really outdid myself, seeing as I’m neither crafty nor a Halloween fan, making my costume entirely out of felt, feathers, and hot glue.




Needless to say, I welcomed the weekend very enthusiastically, not to say that the Halloween celebrations ended at school. Inspired by the glasses donned by “hip Koreans,” Maria, Britney, and I decided to spend our Saturday as a Where’s Waldo trio in the foreigner district of Seoul, Itaewon (an area I usually avoid, but where better to celebrate this ridiculous holiday?) To our amusement, Waldo was a hit! By the end of the night we had been in dozens of photos with random people and had heard our fill of unoriginal Waldo comments (there’s only so many ways you can respond to “I found you!”) We thoroughly enjoyed our comfortable, popular, easily identifiable costumes and managed to make it until the subways started running again at 5:00am to avoid paying cab fare. Overall, I’d say the night was a success.