Tracing My Roots - Inspired by Korea, Part 2

When my friend in Texas recently told me she wanted to take the Transsiberian railroad trip starting spring 2014, it sounded like the perfect opportunity to visit the motherland. The seeds for the journey had already sprouted.

This past weekend, instead of firemaking, I called up a Korean friend that I had met by chance (magic?) and travelled to where she lives, one of the better cities, Chuncheon. It wasn't random - I was finally picking up a guitar! She was working the afternoon-evening shift both days, but first we met for spicy Mexican food. 

My friend encouraged me to visit an art gallery while she was at work. Sadly, I couldn't find it the first day and so I wandered around the increasingly cold city, which although nice, is still a city. Once I got my hands on the guitar, I was happy to just sit inside the warm apartment and listen and watch my fingers making sounds. She got back from work with three of her girl friends from high school visiting from Seoul and we all squeezed in together. Over drinks, late night snacks and endless music videos until the wee hours of the morning and the next day, we also discussed both of our future travel plans. She tells me she is endlessly surprised at foreigners' positive reactions to Korea and how many interesting people and places I've been able to find. I showed her my most recent magic Internet find, a book written by a Korean woman raising her daughters in nature by herself. For her, it is almost time to take off for Western shores again and learn farming and nature in Europe. I was happy to share Jo's blog with its wealth of information. 

When I first arrived, almost immediately, she told me about her recent visit to an art space not far from her place, called '야생 갤러리' which means 'Wild Gallery.' As she told me the story, I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing. An established Korean wildlife documentary filmmaker and photographer, who teaches part time at Kangwon National University where my friend has gone to school, runs this small space in Chuncheon. But that's not even the half of it. 최기순 Choi Ki-sun has been working in the Russian wilderness for 15 years, documenting wild animal life, particularly amur leopards, bears and tigers. He also owns a property in Hongcheon, outside of Chuncheon, where Korean students and nature lovers come to stay.

Finally, on Sunday, before we parted ways she gave me his phone number. "I remember - he is not here now," she said. "He is in Seoraksan looking for a cat." Wow, said my brain and probably my face. So I finally found 야생 갤러리.

And then, after a couple of days of text messaging in which I foolishly pretended I could speak Korean, 최기순 drove to meet me in Sabuk on his way to work in Taebaksan. After a brief misunderstanding, we ended up meeting for nearly 4 hours. In broken Russian and Korean, he showed me endless photos of his work in Russia. He has followed a family of amur leopards for 10 years, a nearly extinct species. With some rangers, he has taken care of orphaned bear cubs for 2 years, nursing and sheltering them before letting them back out into the wild.

His eyes were bloodshot from fatigue, from staying in a dugout cave in the snow near Seoraksan and Inje, on the watch for wildlife. He would be working more in the next days and soon going back to Russia to shoot more footage. After years of work in broadcasting, he hopes to make a full-length film for showing in theaters. The Russian word for wildlife photography is "foto ohota" which literally means photo hunt. Though I don't want to make light of serious work, I can't help but think of this well-loved cartoon from my parents' generation.

When he is not living and trekking in the wilderness, 최기순 is teaching at the university and putting his heart into the Hongcheon center, which he named 까르 돈 'cardon' after the Russian name for the special house where the natural preserve guards live. His partner, an American musician who is also an English teacher in Korea, now helps run the center, which flourishes in the summer with students and visitors.

When he showed me his work, I felt no sense of bragging or showing off. Only 100% laser-sharp focus on his passion and sharing it with the world. The leopards, bears and tigers' eyes seem as though they are looking through at your soul in the photos and videos. Between his trips to Russia, I was so fortunate to have a chance to meet this person. When I told him I was interested in having land and building a community somewhere, maybe Korea, he immediately said 'no! buy land in Russia, there's so much wild beauty!'

So from seeing these photos, I am really hoping I can see at least a few of these places next year. Vladivostok and Kamchatka, for a start. Maybe I won't get close to the animals, but I can at least get close to the land.

The journey continues.

How The City Became the Illusion and Nature Became the Reality

I never lived in the "country." My family is from Moscow. Some Russians have a dacha, a vacation country house. I'm not sure of the number and I don't think it's only wealthy people. I've always heard about it and have extremely vague memories, or at least photos, of myself bathing outside at a family dacha as a baby and toddler.

But that's just a "vacation." The full time "real" life is Moscow, where in the past the amount of cars on the road today was unimaginable. People lived by the metro and with their feet. Once the Soviet machine started grinding down, "Western" life seeped in and nowadays materialism has the city firmly within its grasp. As so often happens after a stint with the devastation of war, food shortages and state economic repression. In Korea, as well.

When my family first left the motherland, we moved West to the Rockies. Surrounded by mountains, I took them for granted. Then, because of lovely oil, we spent my middle and high school years in the Texas suburbs, a mushrooming landscape of cookie-cutter houses and lawns and strip malls that slowly but surely kills the rural community that used to be there. In high school, each drive across 3 massive highways to the heart of the museum district and downtown was like a pilgrimage to the light outside of the tunnel. The city was everything I ever wanted. I applied to Columbia because it was in New York, the fabled center of everything. I ended up living in Boston and then Lille, wonderful lively places that I would go back to again in a heartbeat. Over time, I began to eat fresh food and visit the places where it was produced. And made a movie about one of those places. And so began the re-awakening.

And now I've reached a point where something deep inside of me wants nothing to do with the city. Despite the art shows, basement shows, social centers, collective houses, bike rides, farmer's markets and bridges over water, in the city I feel less than human. I am missing an invisible layer of skin. The separation from nature makes me a monster, someone who cannot even relate to and communicate well with other people. I care about sexual and gender politics and worker's rights and collective living and dumpster diving but even more, I have come to care about working outside with the soil and letting nature teach me things that "society" has never done.

I've only begun. Last year, in Greece, I began answering the call of the night dream I had in Lille that told me to find my home in nature. In Houston, I sought out the community gardens where the din of the busy streets was outside these havens. And now, in Korea, I am beginning to dig really deep.

Jeungsan area, on the way to Hambaek, Gangwondo summer bike ride near Sabuk

I know next to nothing. The more I try to grow small vegetables, volunteer in big fields, read on farming, primitivism, eating well and its relationship to radical politics, the more big and complicated everything seems. It's complicated because for 20 + years my brain has been filled with only the things I've learned in confined classrooms, sitting at confined desks. Even at the university level, my classes and film internships were based on facts and figures and computer screens and enclosed walls. The process of unlearning and learning annew is more entrenched, requires far more engagement and openness than formal "education." So does the process of creating vibrant natural, rural communities when so much of the young, energetic excitement is clustered within the urban walls. But it's happening and will continue to happen.

I say this as someone from privilege beyond most people's wildest imagination. I am a white upper middle class American from an immigrant family that has, by and large, achieved the "dream." I've had access to the best education money can buy. I have never wanted for anything or even had to work that hard. (Oh, also I am cis and hetero). They gave me and others so much privilege for the price of our real freedom. While we still have nature on Earth, still have people clamoring for an end to madness, I intend to take the privilege to be here, now, doing what I can for as long as I can. There will be failures. And I will probably still return to the city again and again. But I'd rather fail on the road to reality than stumbling to chase a bygone illusion.

***

WWOOF Korea photo. My dirty grape gloves.

WWOOF Korea photo. Us in the sun.

October was a month close(r) to home, including two trips to Handemy Village - a Korean ecovillage! - in the mountains of beautiful Danyang, not far from Guinsa. I got over my Guinsa mishaps quick as 13 of us finished off grape picking season for our October group WWOOF.

I really enjoyed this place, even for just two days. So much that I went back 2 weeks later to volunteer for the first English camp. Best of all, it was a Halloween theme camp, complete with carved pumpkins, a treasure hunt and painted faces. These elementary and middle school kids are great - full of energy, though still often tired from so much activity.

The story of Handemy is that several years ago, the founder revived the school that was to be shut down in the area and renovated this traditional village. There are still regular Korean families living on the grounds, but now it's also a place where children learn in the classroom and out in the fields and WWOOFers come from all over the world.

The next time I go there - hopefully for the next English camp! - I'll be sure to snap more shots. For now, suffice it to say that I was really inspired by the project and it made me feel - again - that Korea has so many amazing things going on right under our noses but not quite broadcast far and wide. Teaching kids language through farming - sounds like a great idea and it plays out well. There is a young Korean woman working there, who studied in the US and speaks English and Korean perfectly. She comes as a real asset to the kids and community in many ways. Living in the dorms with the loud, rambunctious Korean children can't be easy, but it seems that the unstructured and outdoors-focused life is very rewarding. For me, it would be a perfect gig. Just visiting, volunteering and enjoying the atmosphere is enough of a lovely experience for now, though.

 

Seoraksan Scenes. Photos by Hannah.

In between the Handemy trips was a second and triumphant trip up the northeastern Gangwon coast. We started with a low-key EPIK teacher/coteacher YangYang conference and ended with a beautiful weekend traipse through Sokcho and up Ulsanbawi peak at Seoraksan. This second Seoraksan visit,  during a weekend festival was absolutely mobbed with people. The fall colors were only just starting to turn and the daytime weather was absolutely gorgeous. Fall is prime hiking season in Korea, though I've noticed over time that its not quite as popular with younger people. A shame, too, because I love hiking. The seaside northernmost city of Sokcho proved to have many delights as well, from watching the fishermen at dusk, surrounded by all kinds of beautiful dead starfish, to the lively established North Korean refugee enclave.

The last weekend of October was one of the hundreds of local traditional festivals - Yang Yang Salmon Fest. I got there too late to catch a fish with my bare hands, but we all enjoyed eating it surrounded by Korean families immensely impressed with our American friend's salmon seasoning. We got massively lost trying to find a Halloween party in the woods so we ended up at a super expensive noraebang in Gangneung and a nice motel. The next day, we enjoyed the last of what can properly be called warm weather, around Gangneung and Jeongseon.

Yes, this was the last of single layer clothes. It was a good ride before winter.

Monsoons and Dog Days

Sabuk summer rain

It's already August and I've been in Korea a whole 5 months. So what went down in my life in the month of July?

A lot. And also not a lot. It seems like it flew by.

As the lillois were leaving for Busan and Jeju, beautiful summer rain poured down on us in Sabuk. I love summer rain. I hope that by the end of summer, I will have at least one chance to dance in the rain.

The next day, the sun shined down upon us and I was brimming with energy. As visiters from the outside, my friends inspired me to take a closer look at Sabuk's history. I discovered a whole new part of this town, full of abandoned buildings and exploding green gardens. And the coal memorial where the nice man lets me take tons of beautiful free postcards. So psyched to finally have postcards of this place!  I've decided to work on a Sabuk documentary with my students next semester. I'm not quite sure how I will undertake this experimental project, but I'm pretty excited about it. It will give me a chance to work on something interesting with my students and to get to know the place where I live better. Of course, at one point we will be in bitter cold winter...

Sabuk abandoned apartments

Sabul coal lift

The first week of July brought more sunshine and positive energy - I was feeling pretty good. The school staff took a 2-day trip down to the Yeosu Expo. I wasn't too jazzed about the expo itself as its pretty much a huge, flashy show of watered-down tidbits from various countries around the world and over-the-top water and light shows. Some Koreans eat this stuff right up. Anyway, I enjoyed the company of an American and Korean teacher.

Yeosu Expo playtime

Yeosu Expo nightshow

The trip schedule was packed pretty tight with lots of driving, but we enjoyed the pension near Jiri mountain and the carousing. Koreans, especially older Korean men, take everything out through drinking. Random violence, expressing controlled anger, can overtake even the calmest of people. Russians do this too - I'm not a fan of this cultural aspect, but it is what it is. Hopefully, the younger generations can learn to deal with their problems while sober and save the drinking for genuine fun times. Who knows. 

This was my second visit to Jeollanam-do and it's still the most beautiful part of Korea that I've seen. Damyang has a lovely tree-lined walking trail and a big bamboo forest. It's famous for bamboo and all kinds of fruits. We had a great meal at a restaurant for lunch - that day was one where I really appreciated Korea again. Wanting to communicate with the Korean teachers who hardly speak English, I was pushed again to do some intense language study on the bus. These moments come not so frequently nowadays and even though I'm studying, I'm not sure my skills are improving at the moment. Hopefully, more opportunities will arise. 

 

Totem Poles along the Damyang forest walk

Damyang Bamboo Forest

Damyang lunchtime

Damyang view

When we got back that night, the middle school foreign teacher and I hung out with the high school science teacher and my badass girl students who win in national science competitions. They were taking pictures of the moon with the telescope. It was a really nice moment of being part of the community. I'm also proud of the science teacher who I feel works hard to elevate the girls' self-esteem and passion for science.

Sabuk moongazing

The next day, we had our yellow belt taekwondo test which was not ideal but less stressful than I imagined. I'm not good at taekwondo - I just have to accept this. But I do my best and I keep my body moving and healthier than before. It is a cultural experience that I would not get anywhere else.

The lillois were flying out the next weekend, so we had to have a proper goodbye, which meant getting smashed at a noraebang and watching the sunrise while stumbling around Hongdae on a Friday. I was joined by a new Japanese WWOOF friend and her Finnish buddy.

We were supposed to head back to Hansol, the Namyangju farm early the next morning but of course that was postponed until the afternoon. It was another amazing weekend at the farm, this time under the monsoon. We weeded the hell out of the strawberry greenhouses and some people painted the burgeoning compost toilet. At night, we sang songs around a fire with the puppy running around. My favorite part is how the farmer is not only genuinely interested in sharing his passions and his work, he tries to bring out the magic in each person he meets. Truly wonderful.

Then, I had a weekend in Seoul to myself. (Now cancelled) Mark Kozelek was playing and it's always a joy to see just him and his voice and his nylon-string guitar, though the show in Hongdae the night before was probably better. 

Dongdaemun (East Gate) Seoul

Cheongyangni, Seoul train station

The semester was coming to a close and I was restless - it seems I did nothing at all of value until Jisan Rock Festival the last weekend in July. There, I saw amazing shows by Radiohead, Korean metal bands and the highlight, one of my favorite legendary bands - The Stone Roses. I hardly took any pictures. It's all memories now. I was really looking forward to this festival and parts of it were really good while other parts were lonely or overwhelming. But seeing this music, the affirmation of life, was worth all of it.

And that's about it. Next up is Jeju.

Travelling Magic, WWOOF Korea and What is Activism?

After recounting some of last year's adventures, I now have a bit of travelling magic back in my life - a couple from Lille that I met through the social center have been staying with me this week in the middle of nowhere, Korea. After I came back to France from Greece last summer, Justine told me she was adopted from Korea and they would come visit me. And after a year they've finally made it. This past Saturday, they came from a few days in Seoul to meet me in Sokcho on the North Coast and we spent the night in Seoraksan National Park, exploring as much as we could of this beautiful natural place with its peaks and temples. From Sokcho, we happened to take the same bus as the director of a hagwon, private English academy, in Seoul (who later asked if I wanted to work for her!) and she helped us find a big cheap room in a nice motel in the park.

The next day was less successful because of the endless bus rides, the 2012 Danoje Festival lacking the atmosphere we were looking for, and their heavy luggage, but we still managed to make it to Gyempo Lake and Beach in Gangneung. We made it back to Sabuk late but not-too-late and crashed.

This week, two of my WWOOF Korea buddies came to Sabuk for a night, making it four  people in my apartment, and we had a really nice group outing to a lovely restaurant in Gohan where the owner does wood carvings. Pretty intense stuff for a weeknight in this neck of the woods.

So for about a month now, the weekends have been fresh, interesting, tiring, occasionally frustrating, but overall really vibrant and eye-opening. And definitely too short. In mid-May, the weekend before Buddha's birthday, with my bike, I hopped a ridiculously early Saturday morning bus to Seoul to go to the first English tour of the War and Women's Human Rights Museum in Hongdae. It was a lovely day and the tour was sobering but hugely informative and a chance to meet great activists and new people. That was definitely the turning point in me finally beginning to appreciate the different opportunities available in Korea. 

Afterwards, I gave myself no chance to rest as usual as I wandered around Hongdae looking for a good jimjilbang to crash at - I found out much later there is one right on the main street, but this one in a hidden corner worked just fine.

And travelling magic happened that night too. I met up with Gangwon teachers for the Lotus Lantern Festival, but joining them was a Finnish girl visiting Korea for a month. After a random big dinner, the festival and nice outside drinks, which produced a lot of walking and some ho-hum stereotypical Korean-foreigner interactions, me and the traveller ended up back in Hongdae. We chanced upon the last show of a white-boy band at Strange Fruit, one of the tiny, cozy underground bars. So the night ended on a good note and I made a new friend.

The Sunday, as most Sundays in Seoul are for me, was a case of wandering and river cycling but I did manage to check out the beautifully decorated Bongeumsa Temple.

And it only gets better from there...

Food, Food Everywhere 

Which brings me back to...WWOOF Korea! While deciding on whether or not I would go to Chuncheon's Mime Festival for Buddha's birthday weekend, the decision was made for me by WWOOF Korea posting a call for a group volunteering trip.

That was the weekend that brought me one of the most frustrating but also some of the best and future-giving Korean moments. I arrived in warm, quiet Bucheon neighborhood in Seoul at midnight on a Friday and was so happy I chose to stay at the WWOOF Korea Guesthouse lived in by a Japanese staff member and his girlfriend - they've since moved out and I can't wait to see the changes to the house. I was able to reminisce on WWOOF Greece, learn about WWOOF Japan and how the Korean chapter is and always becoming much more open, welcoming and full of group volunteering opportunities.

I did a write-up about this, my first experience, and a brief description here.

To wrap up, we were in the famous Boseong green tea region of Jeollanam-do, the southwestern province and we were helping a small(er) organic tea farmer weed his fields in preparation for summer tea harvesting. Drinks, laughter, and me being completely lost for lack of Korean. And the still cheap Yeolpo green tea & sea water spa with our nakedness overlooking the beach was a fabulous last touch. If only someone hadn't made the executive decision to drive back to Seoul from Boseong Sunday evening instead of Monday. It would have saved me the headache of arriving in the city at 3 a.m. after a long day of work and a 7-hour drive ending in rain, and finding that I had nowhere to stay after all. I had the option of either waiting at the bus terminal for the 6 a.m. bus to Sabuk or choosing a jimjilbang in Seoul. Honestly, I had a really hard time in the jimjilbang, I didn't sleep at all that night and felt like the positive vibes I had experienced were somehow less real. Like I had done something wrong. 

Thankfully, all that went away the next day as I saw WWOOF people again. Snacks in the WWOOF garden and shared curry by the river on no sleep. And the next two weekends brought lovely Sunday visits to Hansol, the organic chicken farm in Namyangju, the rapidly growing biggest organic farming region in Asia. When I first met the farmer Mr. Kim and a bunch of other WWOOF members and supporters on a Seoul Saturday, it was "Yu-gi", June 2nd, which also means "organic" in Korean. We learned, to our great surprise and delight, that Seoul has an island with a huge public organic garden and compost toilets! If only every city, especially every city with a river, had something like this - urban living would improve so much. Here's the link to more photos. 

How hypocritical of me is it to work on a chicken farm as a vegetarian? Well, they hardly ever slaughter the chickens, except as a special feast like on my first trip there, and the eggs are fresh and delicious. And the middle-aged Korean farmer is a badass, well-travelled, good English-speaking, even radical-minded guy who has built up the place for nearly 30 years. He leads around a 1,000 families in the area in the quest to be even more organic and sustainable. And he founded Slow Food Korea , a short ride from the farm in the same area. I have yet to go there, but it's next on my list as I keep exploring. In two weeks, there will be a compost toilet painting party. I can't wait.

What is Activism? 

I ask myself this question nearly every day and nearly every day, the definition keeps changing - expanding, contracting, becoming fuzzier or clearer depending on the mood.

To be an activist, do you have to be always active? To wave signs? To shout? To smash bank windows? To chain yourself to trees? To occupy the college campus? To attend meetings? To bomb cars? To rescue animals from fur farms? To never drive? To tag public ads? To do street theater? To play in a folk punk band? To read or report for independent media? To ride a bike to work? To eat vegan? To get most of your food from dumpsters? To wash your clothes with soap and water? To wear certain kinds of clothes? To hitchhike instead of taking the bus or train? To garden in your backyard? To keep guns? To protest guns? To befriend people from many different backgrounds? To read political literature? To compost? To take cold showers? To reject religion? To volunteer at the infoshop? To organize shows at the social center? To talk a lot against all the -isms that could possibly come to mind?

Summer roses on a Seoul bike path

It can be those things and a whole lot more. Or it could be none of them. It could be just sitting quietly in nature with a good novel. It could be spending a lot of time with your family. It could be cooking dinner for your housemates. It could be being the best teacher you can be. It could be helping your neighborhood plant trees. It could be playing basketball with your students. It could be smiling at everyone you see on the street. Or only smiling when you truly feel it.

I'm thinking about this now in particular as I finally reach the point where I'm positively processing my time in Europe, all the people I met, all the things I learned. When I was first coming to Korea, my biggest apprehension was definitely how I would go about finding an activist community. I was evenly torn between that and finding quiet, natural places to spend my time. It turns out that I want both. My time with WWOOF here so far has been the most inspiring time and I can see it branching out in all kinds of amazing and more eye-opening directions. And because I feel happy when I do it, I can radiate positive energy to others. Unlike so many other things that I've taken part in, which were fun but often felt more like I should do this because if I don't I'm not living up to my values. 

Having visitors from the past, melting with the present and influencing the future is really exactly what I need at this time. 2012 is half gone, drama-free and I've lived to be a quarter of a century old now. I - and I hope everyone I know - am becoming more and more of the activist and person I want to be, day by day.

Monsoon beginning, Sabuk

Gonna Make This Garden Grow

Earlier this week, I felt a sudden urge to connect the dots between last year's travels and my current life. If I wait much longer, the urge will fade and then reappear too late for me to remember it enough. So I think I'm ready to tell those stories now. And to keep myself in the background. This may be my last post on Korea for a little while, so I will gather experiences in the meantime.

Winter has bid us goodbye, not to return for a good six months. It's hard to believe it. Soon it will be summer swelter. I'll be super glad not to live in heat-rising-from-the-pavement Seoul. At the Lille house in April last year, we painted this on our garden wall:

To me, this is as much about cultivating a healthy spirit as healthy soil. Despite many setbacks, I'm still working on this goal. I love Pete Seeger and Arlo Guthrie's 1981 version of "The Garden Song" and I like to play and sing it a lot during this time. Only this year, I haven't had the opportunity. I taught it to my French students, but haven't yet found a way to incorporate it into a lesson this year. It's somewhat ironic that I had a big beautiful garden in the middle of the city, but not in a rural mountain town.

Nevertheless, kale and mustard leaf seeds are sprouting on my balcony. Every time I pass fields with old Korean men and women digging in the soil, I want to jump off my bike, out of the bus, off the train to kick off my shoes and join them. But I also know that many of them have been working the land all their lives and their backs are permanently stooped because of it. As mentioned before, Gangwon-do may be known as the province of backwards farmers, but they're not actually producing much. This land is not food friendly and needs lots of work. So I gathered together all the possible options for WWOOFing in this and other parts of Korea. I've decided that I will devote as much of my summer vacation to it as possible, which should be at least 2 weeks. A stay on Jeju island sounds like the most intriguing option, especially if I can bike down there to catch the ferry. However, since I'll be at the Jisan Valley Rock Festival for the last weekend in July, it may make more sense to find a farming community around the west or northwest before heading south for a while.

Last week I did Earth Day lessons. Some were more successful than others, because they were extra burnt out from studying for midterms this week. Besides learning "Big Yellow Taxi" - they got to laugh at Joni's voice - I had them make "My Earth" books, with some cool results. The challenge of teaching low-level high school English is finding activities that are both age and level appropriate. Artistic projects seem to always be a win, except when they're super tired. I get to see their different personalities come out through creative expression. Plus, I like seeing what the kids are aware of in terms of environmental problems. Using less detergent and shampoo and a focus on picking up trash surprised me a bit. I even got an anonymous text over the weekend - I did one lesson where some students had to guess my phone number - asking me the name of the "song about the environment." That made me smile.

I haven't gone on many decent bike rides in the past two weeks, unfortunately. Last weekend, it rained like crazy so a BBQ was cancelled but since I had the bus ticket, I still decided to head to Chuncheon, Gangwon's province capital. An hour by train to Seoul, this is a decent-sized but not-too-crazy "lake" city, with tons of bike paths. I itch to go back there on two wheels. Besides walking down to the lake, the best part was staying at the big 찜질방- the infamous elaborate Korean sauna where we all get naked together. But separately. It was a spontaneous decision after walking too long in the rain and it was funny to be the only foreigner, getting stared down. Ha ha. I went in the early evening and the wake-up call is around 8 a.m. so the next time I will go to some town and spend the day there. I wanted to stay for hours in those heated baths, even surrounded by chatting naked Korean women of all ages, sizes and backgrounds. And curling up on a mat in PJs. Most awkward moment was waking up next to a random middle-aged Korean guy at 3 a.m., probably drunk. Stealthily creeped downstairs and found myself a nice replacement mat. I had dreams about farming in New Zealand and awoke to a nice program about the Caribbean. 

We had even nicer weather this past weekend and I ended up at a famous festival in Yeongwol with my bike which quickly turned into a drive and lovely steep walk up to Hwanseong Cave, clear the other direction near the Samcheok coast. This is the biggest limestone cave in Korea, but we enjoyed the journey there and the surroundings most of all. For the Koreans I've seen, enjoying the outdoors is no casual matter - you gotta dress the part, bright pants and jackets, visors and hiking poles, even on a hot day. And you can get cheap, delicious and relatively healthy food and cold beers wherever you go.

Major bonus points for that. The day ended with a night on the town in Yeongwol, where I had my fill of late-night drunken conversations with Western guys, surrounded by partying Korean college kids. I always like to argue with guys, especially when they get to talking about how it's "natural" to dominate women, but it's also interesting to be in on those talks.

This week, midterms mean I have virtually no classes but still have to come to work. Time to brush up on Korean, play basketball on the courts, and...not go to Seoul for May Day. :(

A friend of mine expresses herself through short comics instead of long-winded posts. I wish I had a talent like that. Mostly, things are going well, but as an INFP personality, there is a world on the surface and then there is a whole 'nother world below the surface. That internal world tends to take over a lot and it is there that I'll find nagging discontent and a need to go beyond just the way things are. This week, I also began to have the old spring freakout. You know what I'm talking about. Restlessness. Less sleep. Desire to jump up and down and all around...and frolic through fields...and get touchy with beautiful people.











I came to Korea for more teaching experience, saving money, getting away from city life and experiencing a new culture. While it's certainly meeting all of those expectations, I'm not sure it's what I actually want, as opposed to telling myself it's what I want. My happiest moments have come from staying in a big house with several people and a big garden, riding my bike all the time, cooking, eating and sharing tons of vegan/vegetarian food, having a decent job, lots of places to explore, live music and community events. Instead of moving towards this ideal lifestyle, it seems I keep purposely moving away from it. For what exactly? Financial security? A constant need for changing location? Nevertheless, I'm sticking it out and seeing what it has in store. It may, in the end, prove to be the best adventure yet.

Springtime Lessons

"What if it's broken?" Korean English at Family Mart

Even on a hilltop in the middle of nowhere, you still gotta work out.

After a winter revival in the first week in April, we suddenly had a lovely warm weekend and I obviously took my new two-wheeled friend out for several spins. Korean roads are pretty well kept, even in these rural parts, and long-distance trains and buses comfortably take them on board.

Samcheok

The freedom I feel on a bicycle, especially a quality one that doesn't hurt to ride, is just about unbeatable. Paved open mountain roads around my town. Coastal roads and the beach. On Sunday night, an insane solo 20 kilometer night ride from Taebaek, the smallest city in Korea. Only in motion do I feel truly alive. (But I wouldn't do the last one again. The 2.5 km tunnel near Gohan is deafening and nearly suffocating.)

Despite my good distance endurance for cycling, Taekwando and the weight training that comes with it are beginning to seriously kick my ass. Though an active person, I've never put a high priority on physical fitness and with mirrors all around, I suddenly feel more self-conscious than ever about my body. Realizing my own weaknesses only makes me push harder. A weekly regimen of stretching, yoga, Taekwando, weights and cycling comes on top of teaching, writing, cooking, reflecting. Good for mind and soul as well.

Samcheok

And What About the Language?

Really buckling down and learning Korean would definitely help to become more connected with my new home. Certainly, when I watch the Talk to me in Korean early videos now, I feel like I've gone from zero to basic understanding in a rather short amount of time. It's a well-known fact that most native English teachers, even those who stay here several years, don't go beyond the bare bones of reading Hangeul and basic phrases to greet, order at restaurants, etc. And then there's those who go above and beyond what could be expected in just a year or two. I'm trying my best to take it one step at a time and not feel guilty that my preferred method - absorbing language through listening - is not really "studying." After all, the Asian continent, cultures and language families are a whole new world to me, even as a polyglot. And speaking a language is not the same as doing well in sports or something - it's a skill only measured by how well you can communicate.

Samcheok

"You Need to Give Them Motivation To Learn English"
After I took the initiative to ask why students weren't participating much in my conversation classes, my coteachers spoke with them and found out why. Yes, I understand the motivation thing. I'm beginning to understand that Korean students are bludgeoned by tests, tests, tests, grades, grades, grades, study, study, study all the time. So they're too tired to be self-motivated for just about anything except pop music, computer games, looks. That's not fair and a huge generalization, of course, but generalizations can be somewhat true. Anyway, they are super-competitive with each other, so speaking up in class and making a mistake means getting laughed at which is a big no-no. So I shouldn't correct their mistakes, I should just let their English level stay low - as long as they can half-communicate with me, no problem. No, that's not the right attitude, I know. I'm nowhere near the first or last EFL teacher in Korean to come face-to-face with the basic problem of teaching English in a country with an insane education system that is probably failing its kids. My job is to take it seriously by not taking it seriously. Working to make class fun. Smiling and laughing with my students even when no one feels like smiling or laughing. Not caring if they talk in Korean 75% of the time, as long as they learn something.

Identity Update

If I drink less and talk less, maybe I won't get into inane political or intellectual conversations at the wrong time and the wrong place. Maybe I won't lose friendships before they even got off the ground. Every time I socialize, I try to tell myself to work harder to make up for the mistakes I made last time. As though people are keeping a running tally of the stupid things I've said, my awkwardness, my inability to show myself in the best light. Every time I am accidentally late, or don't answer my phone, or go on too long about a serious topic, I feel that I am chipping away at something. I'm no longer the fun, positive person I'd like to be all the time. I'm that weird, moody, unrelate-able person.

So, no positive updates on changing identity as of yet. Though I have had some beautiful moments over the past few weeks. The highs and the lows could be drawn as close-together steep hills. The highs are usually tied to nature or one-on-one interactions. They lows are usually tied to a night of drinking, coupled with rambling, followed by moodiness and grogginess the next morning. But if I stop drinking, I stop going out. Dilemma.

Land Musings

In Korea, especially Gangwon province, gardening is all the rage. I don't mean young cool people into sustainability and all that jazz. The soil is so rocky in these parts and fertile land so hard to come by that people will turn just about ANY piece of land into a garden. Just in the small niche comprising our apartment complex, snack shops and the middle and high school, there are random veggie beds that are just beginning to sprout. The principal's house has a rather large section and it turns out that, for me, garden patch accessibility is too good to be true. The weather was amazing and I decided to get my hands dirty in the soil. I later learned a Korean teacher has dibs on that plot and the farmer next to my apartment also doesn't have space available. I feel bad about accidentally digging up someone's precious land like that, but maybe it will lead to more communication about gardening in the future. So, I will be starting seeds on my balcony instead and looking for some land later.


And I'm still on the WWOOF mission. I'm trying to gather information about alternative farming communities in Korea and so far I've come across just a few resources, for example: here. There seems to be a Natural Farming movement/practice here, which correlates with Fukuoka, whom I learned about in Greece. Despite learning and absorbing a lot of information and some hands-on experience, I'm still a beginner gardener and feel sort of guilty about that. Why is it taking me so long to get the initiative to do something as simple as planting leafy greens on my balcony? I remember how nice it was to grow my red pepper alongside my roommates' plants in Boston summer '09, but after that, I can't say I've done too much in the way of independent gardening. I'm changing that now too. I intend to be a full-fledged grower within the next few years. Passion must become action.

So, finally, I have a whole lot of different interests that require commitment to fully take root. It's up to each person to decide which activities will take priority. And not to beat herself up about what doesn't get done. It's only one life, after all.