Christmas. Brought to you by the friendly people at my neighborhood 7-11 store.
This week has been a bad back week. After a great weekend of being nearly pain-free (except for that embarrassing incident that involved reaching for a pretty purse while shopping), I returned to work and found that by mid-week, I was waking up with pounding headaches that originated in my upper back. During my daily session of acupuncture with my doctor on Wednesday, he placed his hand on my back and in broken English said, "This side (left), smooth. Good. This side (right) rough. Bad. Today traction." What?!?
After my regular suction cup, needle, hot pad therapy, I wandered my way over to a large contraption accompanied by two nurses and the doctor. I sat down in a chair close to the machine, and one nurse gently placed my head into a mesh mask that was hanging from the machine, and Velcro-ed me in. I felt a little like Hannibal Lector at this point. Then she handed me the emergency release button and I knew I was in for an adventure.
After asking me how much I weigh so he could calibrate the machine, the doctor pushed the start button and he and one of the nurses walked away leaving my favorite nurse to watch over me. I felt the mesh mask start to slowly lift up until it reached a point that honestly scared me a bit. I can only assume this is designed to stretch out your spinal column and release any bad tension. Just as I was starting to panic, the machine stopped.
All of a sudden it quickly, but smoothly raised another centimeter. Then, I heard a pop and I began to feel an odd sensation of relief spread from my upper neck all the way to my temples. My eyes widened in surprise which was mis-read as panic by the nurse who promptly grabbed my hand and asked, "OK??" Any attempt at a vocal response was crushed as my jaw was vice griped together by the vertical pull I was experiencing. I tried to smile, but as all my facial flesh, fat and musculature was also experiencing an upheaval I have the feeling I more resembled a close-lipped Cabbage Patch doll. Note the picture at this point. White-paint-mesh-face-basket my addition :P Somehow though the nurse understood this pudgy faced attempt at communication, smiled back and the therapy continued. I feel like a million bucks today.
Did you ever take a test back in grade 12 that was supposed to assess your skills and interests and tell you what career best suited you? Even though that was 12 years ago, I still clearly remember receiving my results, cursing and swearing while my friends looked on and tried to be supportive while suppressing their laughter. The careers best suited for me at the time were:
1) Anthropologist
2) Truck Driver
I kid you not.
Fast forward 4 years when I finally understood that Anthropology wasn't all dinosaurs, and I was receiving my Bachelor of Arts in the area. I've since become a teacher, but still have a lot of Anthropologist tendencies in me. People watching being a prime example. Especially on the subway. One day, I hope to put that Bachelor of Arts to use and maybe write a book. The working title will be: Underground Observances - A Look at Human Subway Behavior. In the meantime, humor me by reading my ramblings about people watching.
This weekend I was on the subway for a LONG time. Living in No-where gu, most places I want/need to go take a minimum of half an hour on the subway, so for me to say it took a long time, I mean I must have been on there for close to 90 minutes. I get sick if I try to read or knit, so, I people watch. On Saturday, one particular woman held my attention for almost 15 stops. She got on the subway shortly after me, and quickly occupied the seat directly across. Within seconds of the train continuing it's journey, the woman pulled out a make-up bag and commenced her make-up routine which included: foundation, powder, eye shadow, liquid eye-liner (at this point I was impressed as I would have blinded myself trying to do this) and mascara. Just when I thought the process was complete, she pulled out a little tube of gel. I cocked my head in curiosity and watched as she applied it to her upper eye-lid, then tucked it into itself. It was GLUE, not fun, sparkley eye gel like I originally thought.
This woman was performing a temporary version of upper eye-lid surgery. Upper eye-lid surgery is the most requested and controversial plastic surgery procedure in Korea, especially among women. It's a procedure that widens the eyes and adds a tiny fold in the skin of her upper eyelid, a feature most East Asians lack naturally. Some people say it's a cultural obsession with being "westernized" while others say it's a "girl thing" and has nothing to do with a repudiation of a persons heritage.
Either way, this episode of people watching was a real eye-opener (pardon the pun). While on some levels disturbing (especially if you ponder the reasons she may have been doing it in the first place), it also made me think about the things we as westerners do that may seem ridiculous to other cultures, especially when we've adapted it for the "do-it-yourselfer". Can't think of any? Self-tanners that leave you orange? Chemical peel creams that burn and cause scabbing? How about those lip gels that are supposed to plump your lips, giving you that poutey, bee-stung look? Similar in temporary nature, easy to do, and a fraction of the cost of collagen?! Buxom lips here I come! Mind you it stings like a b****.
I just got back from paying the equivalent of $4 to have an hour-long nap under a heat lamp in the doctor's office. The only time I woke up during this hour, was when the nurse came to change the 4 vibrating suction cups on my back for 20 acupuncture needles, and then again to change the acupuncture needles to a heating pad. What a way to spend the morning. I was as snug as a pin-cushioned-bug-in-a-rug. When nap time was over, the nurses all smiled and giggled at me as I roused from my slumber, rubbing my eyes and feeling dopey as if coming out of a hibernation. I think I may be the only foreigner who frequents the clinic. My visit was clearly both my and their entertainment for the day. Two weeks of this is supposed to clear up my mess of a trapezius and supraspinatus that are apparently knotted like a bad macramé project.
This week, I received an email from a friend. They had just finished looking at my recently posted pictures and had the following to say about them:
"You went to North Korea?!?"
Oh. Did I not tell anyone? Sorry about that, that was P.O.J (pre-online-journal). Instead of a huge rambling about everything that happened, I'll fill you in bit by bit in easily digestible servings.
Episode 1: A Guide to North Korean Immigration (abridged)
1) Visa Processing - Provide your tour group with your passport and employment details a week before. They will kindly submit the details for Visa processing so you can just pick up your North Korean Visa and ID without delay the day of your trip. If there are errors in the information on your ID card, start memorizing now, and be prepared to lie to North Korean Immigration if you are selected for questioning (we were actually instructed to do this). Some situations you will not be able to lie (you will not be able to convince the agent that your are actually 20 years younger/older than you look, or that you have recently had a sex change), so inform the guide and they will make arrangments to pay your fine for you. From here on in, every opportunity will be taken by the North Korean government to try and fine you. Be warned. Place your issued ID card around your neck and do not remove for the next two days. Do not lose, damage or deface the ID in any way. Again, you have been warned.
2) South Korean Immigration - Get off the bus. Take all your belongings with you. Go into the beautiful, modern building nicknamed "the airport". Get a pretty stamp in your passport from the smiling customs agent. Have your luggage security screened. Use the toilet. You will not see another flushing one until you get to your hotel. Leave the building. Get in a new bus. While waiting for the other tourists to be processed (in the thousands this weekend) you will be instructed that from here on in, while you are in the bus, you are not allowed to take pictures. In fact, do not take pictures unless otherwise instructed to. Our buses move in convey formation from here on.
3) North Korean Immigration - Over the next 30 minutes, the buses will navigate the desolate road to North Korea. This road is marked only by North Korean soldiers positioned every 100 meters with red flags. EVERY 100 METERS! They are instructed to raise their red flags if they see anyone on the buses taking pictures. I don't know what happens after that. Along the backdrop of the hills, you may be able to spot guard stations, watchtowers, tank bunkers and other military paraphenalia. Pull up to the wedding tent blasting propaganda music otherwise known as the North Korean Immigration building. Be prepared to feel like your being processed for refugee status. Take all your luggage with you. Walk down the long road, navigating your way through the convoy of parked buses. Locate your group. Organize yourselves in single file according to ID file-number. Do not smile. Do not take pictures. Do not talk to your assigned agent. Camera in left hand, documents in right. Give your documents to the agent. Don't smile. Don't speak unless spoken to. Do not attempt to speak Korean. Submit your luggage for security screening. Pick up your lugagge. Keep walking. Don't expectantly look for Kim Jong Il to be there personally welcoming you. Expect a man in a bear suit. Do not smile at, or take pictures of, the man in a bear suit. Get back on the bus.
Welcome! You are now officially in North Korea.
It snowed AGAIN last night. They don't salt/sand the roads here, so consequently the sidewalks are an absolute deathtrap. And yet, Korean women are still trying to totter around in stiletto heels. I've broken out my North Face hikers to make the trek to school. I am now officially a teacher with "indoor shoes".
January and February usually being the "snow months" in Korea, my co-teachers have decided to blame the resident Canadian for this weather anomaly and it's ensuing chaos.
I think it's awesome-beautiful.
Picture: The view from my office window at school at 4:30pm today.
I just received a text from Sara: IT'S SNOWING!!!
Looking out my window, by golly, it is snowing. And thundering. And lightening.
Weird.
Every experience in life leaves a mark on you, changing you in some way. This could be in the physical sense like the time I tripped down a ridge in Nova Scotia, ending up flat on my back in a puddle of mud with my shin split open (ironically the area I was hiking is called Cape Split) or the emotional sense like when your grade 1 EFL student who never talks in class finally whispers something barely audible and you realize it's, "You beautiful". Even in the short three months I have spent in Korea, I can say there's been a lot of change and growth from this adventure:
1) I eat food I can't identify without questioning it. This has been accomplished through participation in cafeteria lunches. Lunch in the cafeteria started as a way to meet the teachers and show them I was eager to learn about Korean culture despite the close semblance to a Fear Factor episode. Now, it's second nature to pick up a little of everything and give it a go. If you knew me during my childhood, you're shaking your head in disbelief right now...
2) I crave seaweed. When I want something salty, I don't reach for a package of Lays, but a package of Haepyo Seasoned Laver. I eat it in a meal or as a snack at least 4 times a week. I have a feeling I'll be bulk ordering dulse when I get home to Canada.
3) I view hiking as not a pastime, but a sport. I plan on campaigning for it's inclusion in the 2012 Summer Olympics and will put money on the Korean national team for gold without hesitation.
4) I get more food on myself - and others - when eating with a knife and fork than I do with chopsticks. If you've read my post on A Landmark Lunchtime you know this is only a recent moment of change.
4) I enjoy jimjilbangs. Once, the thought of getting naked in front of a large group of other naked women made me exceptionally uncomfortable. Now, I do this willingly. And soak in hot pools with them. And pay for it.
5) I cry when the temperature outside dips below 5 degrees celcius. This may be a change for the worse considering I do plan on returning to Canada at some point. Come to think of it, the "hanging-out-naked-with-other-women" thing might also be questionable....
I can only imagine what changes the next 9 months will bring.
It's 9:26am on a Thursday and I'm sitting at my computer lazily drinking my second cup of coffee, typing away, listening to the noise of my washing machine that sounds like it may take flight any second. Home on a Thursday morning, you ask? No, I'm not sick. It's KSAT Day!
The Korean Scholastics Aptitude Test (KSAT) is a high-stakes entrance exam that has major significance in Korean education. Much like the United States, your score on the test will determine what universities you can apply to, and in extreme cases, what faculties will accept you for study.
This is a day where you can wander the streets near any proctoring institute and see hoards of high-school students crying into the arms of their friends and family out of happiness, relief and/or disappointment. National suicide statistics slowly start to climb on this day and spike around the time when results are being delivered.
So significant the test, that traffic is almost non-existent today. Anyone not writing the test is at church or temple praying for their son, daughter, niece, nephew and cousin-twice-removed to fare well. Not only are the streets quiet, but the sky is noticeably empty as well.
Yes, on KSAT Day, flights are canceled during the exam administration hours so as not to disturb and consequently affect the exam scores of the nation's young scholars. It's that intense.
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Yesterday, over a lunch of sweet and sour hot dog stir fry and seaweed soup (I kid you not), Mrs. Jeong and I discussed the KSAT's. Two years ago, her eldest daughter wrote the KSAT. During the week leading up to the exam date, Mrs. Jeong and her family religiously went to her parents' grave, gave offerings and prayed for good results. The exam day came and went. When her daughter finally received her results, Mrs. Jeong marched back to her parents grave, this time with no gifts or prayers, and basically muttered a, "Thanks for nothing." Her daughter currently studies in Australia as she was not able to study her desired program in Korea because of her results. Mrs. Jeong laughed the entire time while telling me this story. Glad I was educated in Canada!
Friendship is...
...having a great meal followed by drinks on a Saturday night. In a cool bar with live DJ's, cheap drinks and a personal little nook with pillows on the floor that perfectly fits 8. Then starting a game of Celebrity first letter-last letter. While three people knit. And another pulls out a Sudoko game. And everyone is smiling and laughing and it all just seems like a regular Saturday night with the gang.
Except for the waitstaff and other patrons staring and wondering who the wierdos in the corner are...
