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.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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.
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 l
ove 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.
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 l
ove 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.
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