Language Camp

Hola from the land of coffee and howling monkeys! It´s been a long while since my last post... but I hope to be back on track soon after this update. Many life changes, experiences, and schools of thought have evolved since my life in the big K, and I´ll try to do my best to explain them. First and foremost, after leaving Korea I had a wonderful, blissful trek through South East Asia and Tokyo with my friend Jackie, and then returned to memory lane back in Michigan for 2 months. After leaving home again, my plan was to find a job at an international school in Chile, Costa Rica... or any other "acceptable" Latin American country. So I packed my bags, thinking I had found the school of my dreams, and headed for San Jose, Costa Rica for 2 weeks of Spanish school and a job interview.

I was happily met at the airport by 2 cheerful Colombian ladies, one of whom was my host mother in Heredia, a suburb of San Jose. She warmly took me into her home, showed me around and fed me a wonderful meal. Not to long after I was asked to follow her to the pharmacy so she could get some medicine and so I could get my first glimpse at the city. Not surprisingly, the city was bustling and the McDonald's across the street had a line out the door. I sat and people watched until she finished and was given a small bag of "Cheetos" from her Colombian friend named Brenda. I arrived back at the house to meet her 2 sons Nicholas and Daniel who were playing traditional Colombian music at a very loud volume. Margarita immediately pulled me up to dance with her and showed me some traditional "Baila" moves. She was very impressed with my minimal dancing skills and we danced in her living room for probably 30 minutes enjoying the rhythm and beats.

To sum up my stay with Margarita, I have to say she is one of the warmest, friendliest, most hospitable people I have ever met. She used to own a restaurant and is an amazing cook, but after her husband died from cancer 7 years ago, she had to sell the restaurant to support her family. Now she primarily hosts students for income. She was interested in my family, my life, and my developing plan... and we shared many gestural, communicative evenings sharing stories and thoughts. Coming into a new country alone, I could not have had a better host family or met a more welcoming person than Margarita.

Intercultura Language School was of the same vibe. A small grouping of mostly Americans who came to seriously learn the language for one reason or another. There were people of all ages. Girls from university to a couple men who were 70 years old and trying something new for the first time. Most people really cared to ask where each other were from and sincerely tried to remember everyone´s names throughout the week. It was a wonderful environment and a great learning opportunity. But, because everyone was American, and I came to Costa Rica to learn Spanish, after school I headed back to Margarita´s to study my vocabulary and wait for her to come home and talk to me. Conversations with Margarita were as important as my 4 hours of language study during the day. She even booked my bus ticket to Playa Samara where I would be staying with another host family for the next week of my lessons. I told her I would be back to visit, and Brenda and her dropped me off at a local bus stop so I could continue on the next leg of my journey.

With no problem I arrived to the bus terminal and met a group of girls that were also going to Samara with the language school. They had already been there for several weeks and we compared experience between the 2 cities. We were in line to board the bus when the man who checked my ticket noticed that the date on the paper was for the 14th and not the 15th which was that day... Margarita had booked the wrong date.... I started to panic due to that being the only bus of the day, and classes started the following morning. One of the girls I had just met asked if i wanted her language help, and she and I followed the ticket man around for 5 minutes asking if the bus was full, and of if I could buy another ticket to board the bus. For better or worse, the man just didn´t feel like communicating with us and shoved me on the bus in the back row, no other questions asked, and no other ticket purchased.

After a smooth arrival to Samara, I followed the girls to the language school to meet my new family. My new family picked me up in a small red car and consisted of Lillian the mother, Carlos, the father, and Joselyn, the 15 year old daughter. They swept me away to a strange complex that looked like a motel and showed me my room directly adjacent to the out door kitchen. I asked how many people lived there, and in an inferred response I gathered that it was a family compound and they also rented to several different people. Lillian asked if I ate meat and I told her that I´d eat a little, I didn´t want to inconvenience the family. Then I was served dinner.

Dinner..... ohhhhh dinner.... every meal I was unsure of exactly what I was eating, but the one thing I was sure of was that there was tons of grease, butter, and or other miscellaneous fat products included in the concoction. Usually including unidentified meat products that were the main portion of the meal. I was far from Margarita´s house now and longed for her healthy cooking with appropriate proportions. Dinner was not the only ginormous meal of the day, breakfast was a mountain of rice and beans, with usually 2 very friend eggs, a slab of fried "meat", a bowl of fruit covered in what I think was grenadine, with a huge glass of some sort of juice and then finally coffee. Every morning I woke to ask for a small breakfast, and every morning I received this feast. One morning I was surprised with simply a hamburger for breakfast paired with the quintessential vat of sugar juice and coffee. I gave up and considered the hope of smaller portions a lost cause and picked through my meals.

Aside from the food, my family was really sweet. Carlos had worked in Boston as a roofer for 20 years and spoke English fairly well, but tried to refrain due to my immersion program. Joselyn, was very friendly and I could tell she loved having all of these older people to look up to and show around town. Finally Lillian, my new mother was very friendly, enjoyed talking to me, and did everything to make me feel comfortable in her home. There was just one other issue with my Samara experience.

This issue was named Glen. Glen was a 50 year old man from the suburbs of Chicago who had apparently lived all over Costa Rica and married a Costa Rican woman. He was renting out an apartment directly next to my room, and had a voice very similar to Dan Ackroid. Now, Glen is the example of an American embarrassment. Joselyn actually named him "Shreck" due to his massive stature and volume of his voice. He spoke a bit of Spanish but had the most awful "gringo accent" I had ever heard. My first impression of him was realizing that the wall in my room was not actually a wall, but a white sheet placed over an open space that was connected to his apartment. I could hear every word, like he was standing over me. "Bueno baby, bueno!" "Make it Caliente baby, Caliente" were some of the repeated phrases that echoed in my head while trying to sleep the first night. Accepting my fate as a traveler and embracing the fact that "this was an experience" I turned on my i-pod and fell asleep.

Now, when Glen was in a sober state, he was friendly enough, but from the fist introduction I wanted nothing to do with him. He frequently decided to indulge in drugs and alcohol, which I soon found out is why many Americans come to Costa Rica. He did this and quickly became a screaming monster. One night I was very tired from a long day of studying and surfing and told everyone I would be going to bed early. His wife turned off their music, and I very tentatively went to sleep, wondering if it was possible for him to be quiet. When he came home everything was surprisingly peaceful. Then, around 4am the light in my room went on (because he turned his light on, and there was only a white sheet between our spaces) and he started screaming at his dogs. Light would go on, and off... on and off... He was messed up enough that I couldn´t even understand what he was saying, but he was talking at a very high volume, and no one was around... I laid there, looking at the ceiling, and prayed that he would leave. Some time around 5am he decided to stumble somewhere...probably for another fix... and I was able to go back to sleep.

I woke up very angry in the morning, and as calmly as possible shared my concerns with my family. They offered to move me to a room on the other side of the compound and I agreed very relieved. I knew it wasn´t their fault, and since Carlos was out of work, they needed the money and couldn´t ask the awful man to leave, they were in a rough spot. I didn´t want to make a big deal out of it, and I really enjoyed my time with the family. I just felt horrible, embarrassed, and frustrated that they had such an awful impression of the United States. To make the situation worse on several occasions the man would go into fits of rage and the family would have to call the police because he would start to throw things in his apartment, and make a big scene. He was the talk of the dinner table, and I shared my concerns with the family, and tried to assure them that he was not an example of "most Americans", but... unfortunately, I discovered his stereotype was more common than I would like to accept. The family seemed to appreciate my opinion on the situation, and we all laughed at my gringo impression of him saying " Bueno baby BUENO!". I was happy to try and counter act his behaviors by having a good relationship with the family.

The next day I did everything in my power to avoid seeing him. But, in his rare sober and tranquil state he sought me out to apologise and say he had no idea I was living directly next to him... or that we shared a space divided by a sheet... I dismissed him as quickly as possible and did not mention that I had moved rooms. Just as life usually works out, when you don´t want to see someone.... you see them more frequently than you would expect. He seemed to be everywhere! He would pass me on his bike when I was walking to class or I would see him just around town at the grocery store or local bar. Every time he would approach me, say in a thick Chicago accent " Hey Jen, you know I´m REALLY sorry for the other night, I had NOOOO idea you were staying in that room!" and I would continue to politely dismiss him.

My remaining time with the family was, as they say "tranquillo". I was far from the flailing and shouting of the monstrosity of a man named Glen, and spent my remaining days in Playa Samara soakin´up the sun and speaking Spanish. Jared and I corresponded on the Internet regarding our next move. We concluded we would move south to Panama where accommodations would be cheaper and gringos farther and fewer between.

A Visit to the North

On a rainy Saturday in June I awoke at 5:45am and made my way to the USO in Seoul. At 7:30 I was on a bus to the northern most part of South Korea, the demilitarized zone (DMZ). On the bus, we had a cheerful Korean tour guide who introduced himself as a retired bank manager named Young. He was a volunteer for the USO's DMZ tour. Young talked us through the hour and 30 min bus ride by making jokes and telling us what we were barely seeing out the windows due to the rain.

While driving we passed miles of barbed wire fencing and guard towers that lined the Imjin river. The weather was very foggy and it rained continually, so our visibility was very limited. Young told us that the guard towers are manned 24 hours a day and if anyone is seen in the river they are immediately shot. We drove until we came upon a military check point where they looked at our pass ports and continued to the JSA or Joint Security Area of the United Nations.

At the JSA we were to have a short briefing and watch a quick history of the DMZ. This presentation was to be carried out by a PVC Hauck, a caricature of the United States army. He wore a camouflage uniform and looked like a life sized GI Joe. We all sat down in the small auditorium and signed wavers saying that we were in a known hostile area. We were all given blue guest passes to wear on our left collar, and then we listened to PVC Hauck explain the slide show.

I understand that giving a slide show about the DMZ to 150 tourists isn't usually what you think of when you set out to be in the army, but this guy presented the information like he was an auctioneer at a county fair ground. He spoke so fast that my brain felt like scrambled eggs when he had finished. I felt bad for anyone who English was not their first language.

The slide show was really well done, and told a brief but very informative history of the early and current hostilities between the North and the South. I was surprised to hear that North Koreans have on several occasions ran over the boarder and started battles with the troops in the South. On one specific occasion on August 18, 1976, soldiers were trying to cut down a big poplar tree that blocked their view of the north. With out warning 8 KPA (Korea People's Army) soldiers ran over and attacked the men with axes. 2 United States military men were killed that day.

After the slide show we met PVC Hauck's buddy who was just as typical and and sported some very dark sunglasses, even though it was raining, and we were inside the whole time. He told us to behave ourselves, not make any gestures, and keep with the group as we went on with the tour. The North Koreans would be watching our every move. We were told that both sides were video recorded 24 hours a day, and they take whatever they can to use as propaganda. We were told especially not to point.

We arrived at a fancy looking glass and grey brick building and told to stand in 2 single file lines on a staircase. There, ROK (Republic of Korea) soldiers stood at attention on either side of us. We were told to go outside. Directly in front of us stood a large 3 story grey building and one North Korean soldier looking straight at us through binoculars. At this site, there were 5 buildings. The first one on the far left was said to be the former polish and Czech republic building, but now is out of use since they are not communist nations anymore. Then, there were 3 blue buildings which were UN buildings used for different talks and exercises. Last was another grey and silver communist building belonging to the North Koreans to the far right.

At each of the blue UN buildings there was a ROK soldier standing half guarded by the structure. His nose was bisected by the corner of the building and looked like it was actually touching the blue facade. Someone asked why they stood that way and Private Hauck responded that it was so if the North started shooting they could find quick cover yet still keep a constant eye on the them. There were also several more ROK soldiers just walking around. These soldiers spent their whole shift just staring at each other.

At one point a second Northern Soldier came out and had a chat with the guy holding the binoculars. He then borrowed them, looked at us and returned inside. It was a surreal vision into a strange and unknown twilight zone. The fact that it was rainy definitely added to the creepy ambiance.

We were then able to go into a building which sat both on the North and the South. This is where talks between the nations took place. There was a long table with many chairs at the intersection point of the North and South with a UN flag on it. We were actually able to stand on the side that belonged to North Korea. There were 2 ROK soldiers standing in the room with us. One guarding the back door to the North and one standing at the end of the long table. We were able to get some pictures with them, but told not to touch them because they would touch us back. I can truthfully say that I stood in North Korea for a total of 4 minutes and survived.

In the building there was a plaque of different flags on the wall from all of the nationalities that the building deals with. There used to be regular flags that sat on the tables. We were told that when former president Bush was having talks with the North, 2 KPA soldiers busted into the building, took the United states and the South Korean flags and destroyed them. From then on, they replaced the flags with smaller ones under a glass frame.

Next we were off to "look out tower #3". We stood outside in the rain while Sargent Sunglasses told us about the Propaganda village in the distance. First, he said that the North Korean flag that we were looking at was flying from the tallest flag pole in the world. The pole is 160 meters tall and the flag itself has a dry weight of 600lbs. We were lucky to see the flag because they take it down in the rain due to the fact that it can't stand it's own weight when wet.

Surrounding the flag pole was the propaganda village named Kijong-dong. This "village" is made up of empty buildings and only a couple of North Korean Soldiers live/patrol there. The buildings have nothing inside them but a couple loud speakers to announce the wonders of communism and how great their leader is. Currently, the village has no electricity, but when it did, each building had a single light bulb at the top. Due to the buildings being large facades with no floors in them, the light would be bright at the top and very dim at the bottom. It was like something from a story book.

Next, we were able to buy lunch at the only restaurant in the DMZ which apparently only sold 2 things. Boulgogi and Bi-bim-bop. Boulgogi is stewed beef and bi-bim bop is just veggies and rice with hot pepper sauce. Of course true to Korean tradition we were presented with many side dishes. Lunch was uneventful, but we all relished in the fact that this restaurant must be making a killing off of all the tours that come through.

After lunch, we were off to the observatory. This was the biggest let down of the trip because in theory we were supposed to be able to see quite a bit into North Korea, but due to the weather we only saw grey. We were at a hill top where, on a good day, we could see a REAL North Korean village as well as the pretend one.

So, finally we moved on and arrived at "tunnel #3". Young was now our tour guide again and he informed us that at least 6 tunnels running from the North in the direction of Seoul have been found. The tunnel we would be able to enter today was found in 1978 and the most recent one had been found in 1982. These tunnels were 75 meters underground and were built to have over 300,000 North Korea soldiers in Seoul within an hour. We were told that there are probably several if not many more tunnels that have not been discovered yet.

We went down a beautifully manicured and padded walk way to the actual tunnel. They even had a train system to take people down who were unable to walk. Then, we went into the original tunnel area which was quite claustrophobic and creepy. At the end of the tunnel we were able to see one of the 3 barricades that were placed to divide the tunnel. In between the barricades were mines. We then turned around and headed back the same way which we came.

We returned to the bus and started the journey back to the USO office in Seoul. Weather aside, it was a great and worthwhile trip. It's easy to read the news papers and briefly think about how crazy and isolated North Korea is, but actually looking at a North Korean Soldier, and trying to wrap your head around how hostile the situation is between the 2 countries is quite dis concerning. It's amazing to me how much South Korea just wants to be reunited with the North. They want to put the past aside and they talk about reunification all the time. To them, it is a painful and unnecessary separation. South Korea looks at themselves as one peninsula, not 2 countries. Keeping true to the Korean way of life, they look at their community and culture as a whole, rather than in individual terms. Families are still families, and as a culture, they still consider themselves a unit. In this era of individuality and broken families, I think that is a wonderful thing.

Ajuma Pottery

I came to Korea with the goal of studying ceramics. I did not know if I was going to be able to make work, observe, or just try to take in everything I could from this ancient practice. I was lucky enough to meet artist and teacher Kim Sang Ho through a friend at a high school after school class. Mr. Kim invited me to his weekend pottery class but warned me that it would be mainly house wives and older woman. Not even considering this, I excitedly accepted his invitation and wandered into Busan National University of Education's Art department.

I found the small ceramics room full of hard working older woman, who inquisitively accepted me into their class. Mr. Kim explained that I was an artist from Chicago, and that I would be making work with them on Saturdays from now on. None of them spoke English, and all of them were very confused at the way I went about working. In this class, the woman make replications of traditional pottery in the Korean style. This means that everything is very straight, very precise, and very touched until it is fired. They are very mathematical and give themselves no flexibility in design. They see a picture and they copy it.

Therefore, when I came in and just started throwing they were very confused as to my "plan". They were even more confused as to why I was sticking my fingers in the side of my pieces to create bumps, creases, and bulges. Now, whenever anyone messes up a piece or by accident creates something that wasn't planned, they call it "Jennifer Style".

The Ajuma (middle aged) pottery class is every Saturday from 11-6pm, which is a great chunk of time to be productive. It also acts as a Korean immersion class for me. Every day at noon the lead ajuma, who looks and speaks like a Korean Rosanne Barr, asks everyone what they want to order for lunch. Then, when lunch is delivered, we all stop working, clean off a table, and eat lunch together. Usually the menu consists of kim-bop, Kimchi Jeegae (kimchi stew), and Bi Bim bop (rice and veggies). I usually sit in silence trying to pick out bits of the conversation. Mr. Kim always gives me 2 extra pieces of Kim-bop and proudly says "dessert!". I smile and say "kam-sam-nee-da" (thank you).

We all sit at the table until everyone is finished eating and then quickly take all of the dishes and put them in the hall way. In Korea they do not have disposable dishes. The motorbike delivery man brings a big metal case filled with regular dishes with food in them. Then, you eat the food and put the dishes outside your door. The delivery man is responsible for coming back and retrieving the dirty dishes. So there is little to no waist.

So..... after a traditional Korean meal, I go back into the world of traditional Korean ceramics. This would be quite peaceful aside from the lead ajuma who loves to grunt, preach, gurgle, and scold the class constantly. It's like Rosanne being in the class only not being able to understand a single thing she says. So, I have been driven to wear my head phones which makes things much more productive and peaceful.

Another thing that is stunting my progress in the studio is the lack of organisation and shelving space. Everyone seem to go head to head for a place to put their stuff. There is no designated area for anything so at the beginning of the class, if I sense I will be productive I have to scope out where I can put the things that I make. If I forget this part, by the end of the class all the shelves are taken, and I have to stand up on a wobbly stool to put my things up on the top of the cabinet.

The glazing and firing is a totally different story. Since the woman are so meticulous about what they make the production level is very low. They sand, and poke, and manicure every piece until all of the moisture has evaporated out of it. Then they sand it some more. I admire their patience and their perfectionism, but I don't have either of those. I enjoy the imperfections and the immediacy of working in clay, so it's contradictory to the way I work, but I'm trying to incorporate as much of their patients as possible.

The glaze room is a small room with a spray booth and hundreds of unmarked buckets. There is raw material everywhere and nothing has a place or name. The whole class glazes as a group, and Mr. Kim comes out with 4 glazes. He says that the glazes are black, white, clear, and celedon (light green). These are the traditional Korean glazes. While at Alfred, and in Chicago I was responsible for glaze testing and creating many types of glazes with many variables. Application of these glazes is very important and I am used to painting, spraying, dipping, pouring, and stamping. Glazing is as or sometimes more important that the creation of the wet form, so it is very important to think through the application process. In this studio, glazing is a repetitive task that does not carry much importance. Every piece is dipped in a glaze that is much too thick for normal application and then set aside for the kiln. The idea of painting, decorating, or doing anything else in the glazing process is completely out of the questions. The ladies stared in amazement one day while I watered down some glazes and then painted some designs on the pieces. This was against traditional Korean ceramics which was totally taboo.

This being said, production and evolution of my work has not been very successful. But it has been an opportunity to communicate, learn, and be included in a Korean classroom. It will be very exciting to go to my next studio and tell stories of preaching ajumas and their over worked traditionalist pottery.

I was and I am very happy to have the opportunity to create ceramics in Busan, but as I explain it to Jared, I feel like it's wanting to go on a bike ride but only being able to ride a stationary bike. There is no creativity, no questions being asked about the form or design, there is no personal expression going on in this studio. This is where I have become frustrated. For a time, I tried to find pleasure in absorbing some of the traditional decoration into my work, or I have tried to create some of their forms. But, the reason I make work is to incorporate the creator into the piece. I make work so the body feels comfortable living with the piece. Therefore, trying to work in the same fashion as they do, creates a big problem, and is contradictory to my whole philosophy. I have dabbled in trying to put some of their traditional graphics on my thrown pieces, but the marriage of the two doesn't seem to fit.

On the other hand, I feel like once I leave Korea, some of the traditional motifs and forms may come back and have a presence in my work. I have learned different ways to build things, things that have been made the same way for centuries. I have learned a lot about how to exactly and precisely create a design on to a piece and how to be patient with my work. It will be exciting to step away from Korea, think back, and see what types of forms and ideas come to surface.

Culture shock and some conclusions

Being an English teacher in Korea, it's very easy to sink in to the "easy life". It's easy to settle for an easy job, with minimal responsibility, where everyone tells you what to do, and your supervisors expect the bare minimum. It's easy to accept your provided living conditions, cheap food, cheap night life, and the assumption that every other non-Korean person you see is also in the same boat as you are. I'm speaking of the generalisation that I have, after living in Busan for 10 months. I am speaking specifically of the public school teachers, and I understand that working in a hogwon (private academy) has many more hours and much more work either physically, or emotionally. There are also the public school jobs in the international schools that treat their native speaking teachers as "real" teachers and if that person is up for the responsibility and extra work, then it's a really good job, and a great opportunity. Respectfully though, those jobs are far and few between, and total luck of the draw. The whole public school system is the luck of the draw and one just has to hope to not get the short stick of the bunch. The majority of my friends and acquaintances have very pleasant working environments, and enjoy their school. A handful of friends, including myself, feel as though we are not being pushed, challenged, or have enough responsibility to grow as educators.

This may seem harsh, insulting, or closed minded. It's just how I feel, and that I believe being an ESL teacher in Korea is not a job for me. I came here from a very busy life, doing everything and anything that I was passionate about and loved with out a doubt. With no regrets I say that I am not engaged, nor have I found anything that sits with me in the same way here, but I am absolutely happy and pleased that I made the decision to come to Korea. I have my whole life to experience and make art and develop lessons for teaching art, this is the only time when I am able to put my passions to the side, and experience something that I am unsure of, and or might hate completely. So, I'm happy I came.

I think this is the perfect job for most people. People who are looking for a good paying job, with a great community, with a support group of people who have the same job as they do. People who love to travel and have very little responsebility durring their work day. In theory, it is a great job! People who are out going and like experiencing new things. But mostly, people who don't have much to go back to.

Another issue I have dealt with this year is the prolonged culture shock that inherently comes and goes with living abroad for the first time. Here is a mini explanation of how the last 10 months have affected my emotional and psychological status.



Month 1: The initial shock- Day to day life was exciting, and my senses were overload trying to process everything happening around me. I loved it. I loved walking around I loved talking to new people, I loved everything. Went to the beach, museums, just explored the city. Basically felt like vacation.



Month 2: Things settled down - I got the hang of my job, and realized how easy it really was. I started to make new friends and get my barrings around the city. I still liked it a lot. But, life seemed slower.



Month 3: Things started to go down hill - I realised that I had no real responsibility at my job and they did't care if I went in and played a movie, sang a song, danced a jig, or actually taught a lesson. I realised my invisibility at the school - unless there was a problem, or that I was part of the "token white person" show. I started to feel claustrophobic.



Month 4-6: One day at a time - I tried to make the best of things, but I was in withdrawal from making art, teaching art, and missed my family and friends. I really knew that I did't like teaching English, and the boys at the school treated me like a circus act. I missed running outside and riding my bike for transportation. I felt very claustrophobic and couldn't wait for a vacation. I was not a very nice person to be around and I feared that I was pushing people away.



Month 6-8: Vacation - Thailand and Cambodia were the perfect medicine for my depression. I needed new adventure, beach, sun, and to see new things. Without the vacation time, I think I would have left earlier. I don't think I could have made it with out the 2 months off. I understand that this is a huge privilege and the last couple months of misery became worth while.

Month 8-10: Light at the end of the tunnel- When I came back from Thailand I didn't go out of the apartment for 3 days. I was very depressed and hated being back in Korea. Then, I joined the gym, went to my pottery studio, and made a point to go out with friends. Slowly, through my extracurricular activities life became better. It became very apparent to me that there are things in life I can not sacrifice or I become a miserable depressed person. Running, making art, ceramics, and having girl friends are some of the things that I missed very much. It was worth the effort and extra expense to seek out these outlets.

Another thing that made these months extra wonderful was the installation of my own English classroom. Up on the 5th floor of my school, where no one goes. It became the "Funglish Zone". A place where I can have peace and quite and an escape from the teachers cubical room. I love the new classroom and I can trick myself into thinking that I am a real teacher again. All of this reaffirms that I need certain things in my life, and that I have to strive to always have them.

There are things that I love about Busan. I love the public transportation system. I love the weather. I love the friendly people, who will go out of their way to help you and are always very interested in you. People are very rarely rude. I love how easy most things are. I love how cheap it is to live here. Also, I love the mountains and how hiking and fitness is a big part of many peoples lives, no matter how old they are.

I have had such a great year here, but it has been very difficult at the same time. If I could relive this year again, I would do some things differently but I would defiantly do it again. I wouldn't have given this year up for another year in Chicago, because Chicago and every other city will always be there for me when I am ready for it. I think I have changed a lot this year and my understanding of other cultures has been broadened more than I can explain. It will be very exciting to finally find a job teaching art, and be able to inspire and speak about my journeys to my students. I will have had first hand experience at working in a Ceramics studio in Korea, and witnessed crafts in Cambodia, Thailand, and Japan. I have seen a side of life that most Americans can not even imagine. I would not go back on this year if I could.

I am excited to move on, but mostly I am proud of myself that I took the leap and came to the other side of the world and had these experiences. I am excited to find my art again, and be part of a working studio where people are living in the present and thinking in the moment to make something they care about. I am excited to bring art to children and teenagers and teach them about what I am passionate about. Now, I can bring my cross cultural experiences to good use and hopefully inspire young artists in more ways than before.

Sushi or Kimbop?

I was lucky enough to take 5 days and travel to Tokyo to visit Kayoko Okasan (Okasan= mother).  It was not only a wonderful trip to see Tokyo, but even more worthwhile to spend time with people who not only knew my family, but felt like my family.  Being away from home for 9 months now, I have gone through many difficult home sick spells.  It was so relaxing and invigorating to be with people whom I could relate to on a level I have been without for so long.  

Okasan met me at the airport and we got on a bus to her home.  Even though we had only met briefly long ago, there was no dwindle in conversation, and I felt very comfortable arriving in a new place.  We arrived the train station and were picked up in the car by Otosan (father).  I was then taken to their house where Okasan made a wonderful dinner of pork, fish, and other deep fried goodies.  We relaxed on the couch and I talked with the family about life in Korea and the simulates between Japan and their neighbor.  It was a splendid night that ended in a traditional Japanese bath and sleeping on a tatami mat in the guest room.  I have never slept so well on the floor as I did the nights I was at their house.  

The next couple days we saw numerous temples and shrines.  It was very interesting to compare the aesthetics of Korean traditionalism to the Japanese.  So much was different yet very similar. Korean paint all of their temples with figures and designs and in bright green, red, and blues.  The Japanese connect as much with nature as possible so most of the natural wood is exposed and very well taken care of.  The temples and Shrines gave me a feeling of peace.  Seeing the zen gardens and the ways that the buildings really connected with nature was really inspiring.  Nothing looked odd, or artificial.  Everything seemed as though it was meant to be there from the beginning of time.

One morning we woke up early and went to the fish market.  One of the things I miss most in Korea is good Sushi.  One would think that there would be sushi available in Korea... but that is one more thing Koreans and Japanese do not share.  In Korea we have something called "kim-bop".  which looks like sushi, but is a mixture of crab, kimchi, spam, and tuna?  I'm not really sure and it changes depending on who makes it.  Fresh fish is not an option in kimbop and therefore, not even comparable to sushi.   Kimbop is good, if you are expecting kimbop... not if you want sushi.  So,  going to the fish market in Tokyo to have fresh sushi was a party in my mouth.  In Chicago I used to go out to eat sushi at least once every 2 weeks... and the quality wasn't the greatest.  This sushi was melt in your mouth, close your eyes and savor the moment type sushi.... SOooooo gooooood!

One morning I woke up and went to a tennis lesson with Otosan at his tennis club.  I was a little nervous seeing as my tennis ability has been laughed at many times, but everyone assured me I would be with people of the same level.  So, I went to a beginner tennis lesson with a bunch of middle aged Japanese women, and we attempted to play tennis for an hour or so.  Like I was told, everyone was of my similar ability, so we just spent most of our time laughing at our inability to hit the ball properly.  It was a great time.  They were very interested about my experience in Korea and even though none of them spoke English we managed to communicate perfectly.  Body language is great.  

The next couple days Okasan and I spent walking around and shopping.  There was so much to look at.  We also went to the Yokohama Expo on opening day.  It was really interesting to see the old buildings and harbor left over from the war.  At the festival we saw a giant mechanical spider that was controlled by 5 men that sat in it's underbelly.   We saw a massive balloon which turned into a projection of the earth which was really cool, and a bunch of really cool technology.  I just enjoyed walking around and looking at everything.  

The last day of my visit, we went to an art museum to see some wood block prints and a painting exhibit.  Then we did a little more souvenir shopping and had lunch.  I really enjoyed just spending time with Kayoko.  Everything was so comfortable and easy.  I was sad to leave.  But, Dong Peong Boys school wouldn't know what to do without me... So I had to board the 2 hour bus ride back to the airport and head back to Busan.  I still found it crazy how after an hour and a half flight I was in a different country.  It was a wonderful experience and I hope to go back again soon!  

Thank you Kayoko Okasan!  

Full moon or Yoga?

After leaving the land of Lanta, Jared and Jason took off on their way back to the land of kimchi.  I on the other hand, got two more weeks of paradise and was off to another island.  I was set to go to Koh Phangan via Koh Samui to meet a couple friends for a popular festival.  This was my first experience traveling solo, and an adventure at that.  

I left the boys and got on a bus to Sura thani.  I was going to stay the night, but as I got off the bus I realised that there moving on would be a better option.  Actually, no one on the bus was actually staying in Sura Thani for the night.  So,  I decided to follow suit and take the ferry over to Koh Samui.  This is one of the bigger islands and had all the luxuries of the main land.   So, there would be no problem finding a place to stay.  I arranged a place with a recruiter from the ferry and found out the 1 hour boat ride was actually many more hours.  Therefore, I would be arriving at night.  This was not part of my plan.  So, I arrived on the island and quickly took a taxi to my new resting place.  

A cute little old lady, who looked to be over 100 years old took me to a very mediocre bungalow off the path from a construction site.  She said that I could upgrade to a much nicer one if I would stay more than one night.  But, my mind was made up I was going to Koh Pangang the next day.  The next, day I walked around and realized I really was in the middle of a massive construction site.  This bungalow was cheap for a reason.  I got to the main road and saw that Koh Samui wasn't paradise at all, but just looked like any other city.  I walked, and walked and walked... and just came upon dirty street after street.  I think I was staying on the wrong side of the island, but I was very unimpressed compared to my high standards from Koh Lanta.  

I got on the ferry to Koh Phangan and prepared to find a bungalow for the "full moon festival".  On the ferry I ran into some fellow ESL teachers from Korea who actually knew and worked with my close friend.  I got off the Ferry and proceeded to make my way to the part of the island close to the festivities.  I met a young guy, from Australia, who had just started out on a trip traveling the world for a year or more.  This was the first part of the trip and he asked if he could follow me to find a bungalow.  I said sure and laughed a little that I looked like the seasoned traveler...  little did he know that I had no idea what I was doing.  So, we walked and walked and walked and walked and everything seemed to be full.  It was getting dark and I was getting nervous.  

Then, we walked into the main office of a resort and asked if they had any rooms, sure enough, they were full.  Outside of the office were 2 guys with beers parked in beach chairs.  They asked if I needed a bungalow.  They said their friend had disappeared and now they had an extra one that they would like to get rid of.  They ended up being from San Diego and very interesting and helpful.  I took them up on their offer and ended up staying as their neighbor for 5 days.  I have no idea what happened to the Aussie...

After 2 days my friend Ellen and her friend Kali met us at the bungalow.  This bungalow had the biggest mattress I had ever seen so sleeping 3 girls in one room was very comfortable and very cheap!  We hung out on the beach, ate delicious falafel and had a grand ol' time.  

The "full mood festival" is known for being a massive party on a beautiful turquoise water beach.  Ellen really wanted to go for some dancing, and I enjoy people watching so I agreed.  It was a beautiful night and great people watching.  Still, I was rather shell shocked after being totally relaxed on Koh Lanta.  This island was like being thrown into  a "spring break" situation.  It was not my cup of tea.  

After the festival I hightailed it to a different part of the island to a resort called the Sanctuary.  The Sanctuary was a yoga and health retreat where I hoped to get back some of my peace of mind.  It was a hippy getaway with a vegetarian menu and all of the zen you could imagine.  They didn't even have an ATM machine... which posed to be a problem with all of the delicious food.  

Anyways, the next week was great.  Ellen and I shared a bungalow and we read and sat by the beach during the day.  Most of our time was spent deciding what delicious food we would eat next.  I spoke to a man who was a "Light healer" who developed his own form of "Light Therapy" who was married to a textile artist.  I met an Australian Fireman who was there for some yoga lessons.  I also enjoyed spending time with an English DJ who was there getting away from his "crazy" ex-girlfriend, and another English girl who was a herbalist who was traveling for an indefinite amount of time.  The group of people there were interesting and of a different mind set than the average Joe.  It was very refreshing.  

After 5 days at The Sanctuary I left totally happy and relaxed.  I was thrilled to end my trip away from the craziness of the "full moon party" but also self assured that I was able to function as a solo traveler.  It was time to go back to Bangkok and take the flight home to the ROK.  

Just be warned...  when leaving a developing country... make sure you have a little extra money to give the customs people if they feel like they can take advantage of you.  There's really nothing you can do if they insist that you owe their government money.  Luckily, my friend Jimmy was at the airport standing in line when I was told I owed the government of Thailand 4,500 baht = $100 for over staying my visa... (which I didn't).  I was removed from costumes and told to find the money... or?  I'm not sure...  So... I feel very lucky to have good Karma and good friends who can pull me out of situations like that.  

Customs aside, Thailand was an AMAZING place and I suggest everyone should go there.  I have never felt so relaxed or have experienced so many sides to paradise.   

Mom-  We're going to take a trip there in a year or two... and I'm not taking no for an answer.  

Koh Lanta, AKA Best Place EVER!

The next day we boarded another boat to Koh Lanta. Koh Lanta was by far my favorite island. On the boat over, we met a very nice couple from eastern Europe who accompanied us to a bungalow we had reserved. We arrived on Koh Lanta, not to find a tourist trap, but a relaxed, peaceful island. We would stay here for almost 2 whole weeks, and every minute of it was sublime.

We changed places from our original bungalow to one that was across the street and directly on the beach. The sand was at our door step and our window opened to the clean blue water. The place we stayed was called "Aecha Hut" and was owned and operated by a large family who was always coming and going. We never knew exactly who worked there or did what, but everyone was super friendly and welcoming.

The bungalow was mostly made from dark wood and had a bamboo ceiling. The bathroom was attached and had an open air ceiling to the palm trees that hung over it. Lets just say, hearing the ocean while doing your business was an experience everyone should have! We had a small porch, with a hammock that looked directly at the uninterrupted ocean. The beach was clean, clear, and hardly had anyone on it. Jared and I both agreed that we could stay at this place for a very long time.

The next order of business was to get a motor bike and tour the island. So, we rented a bike and went on our way. Jared, a seasoned driver, calmed my motor bike fears after the first 2 days of being his passenger. I always wore my helmet, and after a couple days released the death grip I had on him when we first boarded.

Walking along the small road near our bungalow, we came upon Joy and Nee's cafe. This place was an open air kitchen with a bamboo roof. They served the most wonderful EVERYTHING for the cheapest prices we had paid yet. We ended up eating there at least once a day, every day. My favorite was their green curry, and their spring rolls were divine! We didn't have one bad meal there and the little ladies that cooked were really fun to talk to. Jared even found a new love for Massaman Curry and ate it almost every day.

After being on Koh Lanta for a couple days, our buddy Jason came to meet us. He had just been touring around the main land, and strolled up one day while we were sitting on our porch. So, then there were 3, and we had a blast! We got him settled, and walked down to Joy and Nee's for some food.

The next couple days we explored the island. We went on jungle hikes, saw some elephants, Jared went scuba diving, we got some reading done, and just enjoyed being peaceful. If I got up early enough I could run on the beach and then take a swim. After, I would walk up to the store, grab some granola and some fresh yogurt and have a simple breakfast. This was the life I could get used to.

After being there for a while, Jared and Jason purchased a fishing rod and spent the evenings fishing in front of our place. The first time Jared sunk his bate he caught a good sized Jack fish. Everyone in ear shot ended up coming down to the shore to see what he had caught. They were very impressed that the tourist caught his own fish. That night, we barbecued the fish and played cards. It was great. A couple nights later he caught another one and we did the same thing, only I got to run to the market, get some garlic and prepare it for the grill. Delicious!

While the boys were fishing, I bought myself some paints and sat on the beach sketching and painting. It was so relaxing taking in the sunset and seeing the shadows form in the dusk. We were completely at peace.