Out Of The Frying Pan…

Who was the genius who came up with the idea of *rubber* spatulas? It just defies the whole concept of cooking. Cooking = heat. Heat melts rubber. Go figure.

In My Inbox

I know it’s spam – but it still made me laugh. Subject: FURRY NAKED BARNYARD FRIENDS! Since when were animals *not* naked?

Pree-tee

I’ve been feeling antsy. Ready for a change, but I’m not sure what. Today I decided to get my hair dyed. Pree-tee. The chunky highlights that so many Koreans have in a rainbow of colors.

I took the bus downtown. I remember one of my Korean girlfriends pointing out a good hair salon, and I’ve passed it several times, now I just need to find it again. Hmmmm. Maybe if I go to the main plaza I’ll remember which street to take. The main plaza was hustling and bustling with people, as it always is. Older people slowly meandering this way and that. Middle school girls in their oh so conservative school uniforms. Younger couples arm in arm. I was trying to get my bearings when I noticed people gathered around a table. I crept closer. There were mostly older women, housewives, ajumaa. They were making something. Oooooo – lotus flowers. So pretty. Hot pink and baby pink crepe paper petals overlapping, surrounded by intensely green leaves. As I stared an older women motioned for me to come closer. She handed me a dixie cup, poked my fingers in a tub of paste, and guided me in making a lotus flower. From what I could gather, it was a religious group (I got a pamphlet about a temple) and the lotus flowers are to commemorate Buddha’s birthday in a couple of weeks. I think. Maybe.

I continued to wander, now carrying my beautiful hot pink lotus flower. I went up this street and that. After about 45 minutes, I stopped. *sigh* I’m never going to find it. I looked up and lo and behold, there it was. Talent Hair Salon. I climbed the stairs and walked in. I smiled at the receptionist. I had practiced what I would say during my wandering. Annyong ha-say-yo. Pree-tee jushipshay-yo. She looked very flustered. I seem to have that effect on people. She took my bag, my lotus flower, and my jacket and put them in a locker. She helped me into a robe and led me to a chair. It was a good sized salon, maybe 25 or 30 stations. Almost all of the stylists stared at me, giggling. I heard whispers of “miguk… miguk….”

I sat down in the chair. Three stylists came over, giggling. I smiled, said hi, then repeated, “Pree-tee jushipshay-yo. Bleach-chee.” They laughed, fingered my hair, then one left and returned moments later with a hair color sample chart. I pointed to the color I wanted, then held up chunks of my hair to indicate I only wanted *part* of my hair dyed, not all of it. Another left then returned, mixing a pungent foam concoction which made my eyes sting. I squeezed my eyes to keep from crying. I felt her applying the foam to my hair. It was at that moment I realized the tenacious nature of communication. What do they think I’ve asked for? I kept my eyes closed. It’s only hair, I thought. The worst that could happen is, well, I guess it could all fall out. Okay, so I’d save money on shampoo.

An hour later my head was being shampooed and massaged. By far, the best part of going into a hair salon. Okay, even if the dye job is a disaster, it was worth however much won I’m paying to have this done. Back to the chair and the drying began. I still kept my eyes closed. Please, just let it look, not monstrous. I only opened my eyes when I heard the *snip* *snip* of the scissors. I tried to stop her, but it had already been done. I have the bangs of a 12 year old again. Just then, I caught my image in the mirror. Wow. It definitely wasn’t what I expected. But I wasn’t displeased. I kind of like it. She had dried my hair so that it wasn’t the normal wavy mane that usually surrounds my face. It was slick as glass, hanging straight by my face, appearing to have grown an instantaneous 3 inches longer. Delicate streaks of bleach blond wove in and out of the dark background. She, very proud of her work, said, “So pretty.” Khamsa hamnidaaaa. And I really meant it.

I walked out on the street and stopped. I was a little disoriented. Which way to the bus stop? As I turned, I was face to face with a young Korean man. “Oooooo – more beautiful….” he said. The ultimate compliment upon leaving a beauty salon…

Pabo

Pabo means “stupid” in Korean. I hear it all the time. The students tease each other, my Korean friends will use it sometimes jokingly, sometimes in earnest.

I had just come home from DongA and I was very excited. I had bought a multi-pack of toothbrushes and there was a game card on the package. I love games. I will enter every sweepstakes that I can get my hands on. And I usually win. Not the Publisher’s Clearing House million dollars type of win, but wins nonetheless. I opened the package of toothbrushes and pulled out the entry form. Oh. It’s all in Korean. Duh. What did I expect. Hmm. But there are pictures of the prizes – a trip to Paris, an electronic thing of some sort, toothbrushes.

I excitedly called Sang Jae. Jobsay-yo… “Hello. Who are youuuuu? Korean girl? Speak English.” What are you doing tonight? “Class, Rori.” When do you finish? “Soon. Why?” I need you to come over and help me with something. It’s very important. “Okay. Later. Bye.”

He arrived a couple of hours later. “What is this so important?” I showed him the package. He stared at me in utter disbelief. I need you to help me with this contest. The entry form is in Korean. Just help me complete it. “Rori. No. Not win. Too many people. No. I will not help.”

I spent the next 20 minutes trying to convince him why he should help me complete the form. I told him about all of the contests I had entered and the prizes I had won. I showed him pictures of the prizes I could win in this contest. I told him he could come to Paris with me. I think, out of sheer desperation to get me to be quiet, he agreed to help me complete the form. Under his breath he muttered, “pa-booooo….”

I sat up straight and stared at him. Ani-o. Nanun pabo-ga ani-ay-yo. He stared back at me in amazement. What? What? “I can’t believe.” What? “You. Your Korean. It’s right. So smart. I will help you now.”

Look out Paris, here I come….

The Crab Princess

We’ve started a new session at school, which means my schedule changed. I now have Wednesdays and Sundays off. I’m very happy to have Sundays off. Sundays equal lazy.

This being my first free Sunday in quite a while, I wanted to take a trip. Where to go? I pulled out my new best friend, my Lonely Planet. Hmmm. Conflicting desires. I want to go on an exciting trip, but I also want to sleep in. Where can I go that’s close by?

My friend Sang Jae had originally said he wanted to come with me. But then, on Friday, he said he needed to study for an upcoming test. As I was researching on Saturday night, he called. “Where we go tomorrow?” But, I thought you said you needed to study. “Later. Trip close. Near. Where?” Wellllll, I was thinking of going to Juwangsan National Park – it doesn’t appear to be too far away and there are spectacular waterfalls there. Let’s not leave too early, though. Call me when you wake up tomorrow.

We left around noon. We agreed that he would drive until the first rest area, then I would drive, so he could study his English phrases. As he was driving, I picked up his English phrase book. The odd numbered pages had English phrases, the even numbered pages had the same phrases in Korean. I picked out some that I thought would be useful and tried to pronounce them. More than once he turned to me and said, “What language you speaking?” Korean. Your language. Good? “Ani-oooooo. Not Korean. Some strange island language, only you speak.” He would correctly say the phrase in Korean and I would repeat it, over and over and over. He finally took the book away from me.

We arrived to the rest stop – we were both starving. We ordered our favorite – dolsot bibimbop – mixed rice in a stone bowl. We finished the meal with instant coffee from a vending machine then I was in the driver’s seat.

We passed a large yellow sign, “Police Enforcement.” “Don’t speed. Smile.” and with that he leaned over, gave a peace sign and said “kim chiiiiii.” What are you doing? “Police. Camera. Take picture.” There were radars and cameras mounted over the highway to catch speeders. I had never thought of smiling for a law enforcement camera before, but I guess it makes sense. I mean, if they’re going to post your picture everywhere as a potential criminal, you may as well look good…

We drove and drove and drove. Where was this park? It looked so close in the book. We exited from the expressway. Sang Jae asked the toll booth clerk which way to Juwangsan. She said go straight, then pass the university, then veer left. And then a bunch of other stuff. Okay, easy enough. As I was driving, Sang Jae said, “Yeongdeok, only one hour past university.” Yeongdeok? What’s that? “Oh. Famous for crab.” Changmal? Really? Oh, my god. I love crab. “Let’s go there. Beach. So good.” Awesome!

He continued to practice phrases in English. “I’ll be right back. That sounds very interesting. Do you need to see some identification? I need a reservation for two.” Every now and then I would say the phrase, emphasizing the correct accent on syllables. He would repeat. I would repeat. He would repeat again. I concentrated on the road, we were getting closer to the mountains. The road became more narrow, and more windy. And the scenery more green. Everywhere, walls and walls of green. The day was overcast, so if I blurred my vision I felt as though I was entering into a world of moss. I drove slower and slower as the road became curvier and curvier. “I think I will bomb it.” What? What does that mean? “I think I will bomb it.” Bomb it? Bomb what? “Bomit.” Vomit? That’s in the book? “No. The curves. So sick.” I glanced over. Oh, my god. Should I stop? Are you okay? “Okay. I’m okay.” Thankfully the road straightened soon after that. We had crossed the mountain and were nearing the coast.

Soon thereafter we entered the town of Yeongdeok. We stopped to ask directions to the crab. At that point Sang Jae took over driving responsibilities. We drove down a long road bordering a river. There were buildings in the distance. As we got closer, we realized they were the crab restaurants. Old women stood in the road, motioning and barking to come eat in their restaurant. We drove slower and slower. We passed huge tanks of crabs in front of the restaurants. Huge tanks of huge crabs. All alive and snapping this way and that. I squealed. I love crab. I haven’t had it since November. Oh, the anticipation!

We drove past restaurant after restaurant after restaurant. Umm, why don’t we stop? Let’s eat. “You, you just want crab. Me, I want to see ocean. Ocean, then eat crab.” Oh, okay. Sounds good. The restaurants ended, we had entered a commercial fishing area. Palettes and palettes of fish and squid lay drying by the side of the road. Slow down, I want to get a picture! He slowed a bit, then sped up. Then came to a screeching halt. We had reached the ocean. It was beautiful. The road dropped to craggy rocks where the surf pounded at irregular intervals. We watched the ocean from the car. C’mon, let’s explore. “Too cold.” No, c’mon. It’ll be fun. We carefully made our way down and over the rocks, avoiding slipping into the tidal pools of algae and ocean critters. The sea spray felt wonderful. It was cold, but a crisp, clean, refreshing cold. The overcast sky gave the ocean an ominous gray color. We watched the waves crash upon the rocks then whooooooosshhhhhhhhhhh! An especially strong wave had crashed and splashed into the air, sending spray a good 15 feet into the air and only inches from our faces. We both screamed with delight. We wandered back over the rocks to the car. Destination – dinner.

Sang Jae picked a restaurant that had a huge model of a crab on its exterior. We walked in and were ushered to a table upstairs by the window. We sat on the floor and stared out at the boats, docked for the evening. The waitress came by, he talked to her for a bit, then she left. What did you order? “Crab.” I know crab, but what? “You’ll see.” Eating has never failed to disappoint me here. Never. This was no exception.

First came the tiny side dishes. One of a crab meat and egg and maybe potato concoction. A dish of fresh kelp. A platter of boiled peanuts. And a plate of live things in shells. I’m not sure what. I’ve seen them in the ocean, but I don’t know what they are called. We used our chopsticks to poke its sluglike body then tug, tug, tug til it resistingly slid from its twisted shell. Dipped in a hot sauce, and popped into our mouths. Not bad. At that point, the waitress came over, laughing. We were doing it wrong. She picked up another shell and a spoon. She tapped the shell till it broke, leaving the sluglike animal exposed then used a dainty forklike utensil to pull it from its home. Sang Jae was all over it. He picked up the next shell and started tapping. “Baby, baby, ba-by….” I couldn’t stop laughing; he was enjoying this process so much.

No sooner than we had finished these treats did the main course arrive. I stared in amazement. There, on a platter, was the hugest crab I have ever seen. Huge. The legs were at least a good 12 to 18 inches long each. I watched as the waitress took scissors and began to cut the legs and other parts, placing them in front of me. I waited until she finished, then gingerly pulled some meat from a leg. It was so tender and flaky. I placed it in my mouth and it simply melted. It needed no accompaniment. No butter, no salt, no spices, no sauce. Just fresh, boiled crab. We ate in silence, picking as much of the tender meat as possible from the legs. A couple of times a scrap of crab meat would fly across the table from Sang Jae’s fork and land in my lap – I think we were both unaccustomed to using the scissors and poking materials placed before us. After we were done, I picked up a shell from a leg and examined it to make sure there was no meat left in it. Sang Jae laughed. “No more. Good?” Oh, soooooooo goooooood. So delicious. Thank you for bringing me here.

But our meal wasn’t over. The waitress took away the carnage we had created and replaced it with a small cauldron of spicy seafood soup. More small dishes arrived. Spinach, pickled radish, spicy squid, turnips, and a delicious crab, seaweed and rice mixture. We finished it all, then were brought small cups of instant coffee. We sat looking over the sea. Happy? I asked Sang Jae. “Oh, yes. So happy. This was delicious.” I think so, too. “But you scare me.” What? What are you talking about? “Crab come. You so serious. I never see you not smile. So serious. I not know you like crab so much. You scare me.” We laughed. “Ke kong joo.” Did you just call me a dog princess? He laughed. “No. No. Crab princess. You, princess of crabs. I think, 100 years before, you crab. That why you love so much.” Yes. You are right.

We got back into the car. Sang Jae, I think we should drive down the coast to Pohang, then cut across to Daegu. I think it will be faster than going back through the mountains. “No. No. Back same way.” Okay…. He looked at the map for a while. I was navigating through the narrow streets lined with crab. Annyong hi kay ship shay yo, beautiful crabs! I love you! He laughed. “Lori, go this way. Let’s go Pohang. Then take Expressway to Daegu.” I stared at him. I know I said that last sentence out loud. It makes me wonder how much of communication is really understood. I decided not to argue. Good idea.

An hour and a half later we were back in Daegu. Perfect day. This was a perfect day. Thank you. “Really?” Of course! We went for a drive, we saw the mountains, we ate crab, we saw a beautiful sunset on the way home, what else could we ask for? “I think, I think the USA people know how to enjoy leisure time. I think that is good.” Yes, it is. Yes, it is.

The Crunchy Bugs

I’ve been noticing there is an increasing number of tiny, slow moving, black bugs that crunch when I kill them in my apartment. Which is quite curious, because since discovering that I have a screen on my “porch” I’ve religiously made sure it’s closed, especially when the sliding doors are open. Where are these critters coming from? I’ve never seen anything quite like them. They seem to have wings, but don’t fly. They slowly wander across my floor, and don’t scurry when I swoop down to kill them. I almost feel bad killing them, they’re not even trying to escape death.

Tonight, when I returned home from school, I noticed quite a few on the floor. What are these things? I then spied a few clinging to the side of the refrigerator. Hmmm. I pulled a chair to the side of the refrigerator. Oh, my god! They were slowly swarming around a black plastic bag on top of the refrigerator. I squealed and jumped off the chair. Ugh!

Armed with a roll of paper towels, I climbed back on the chair and started squishing. What was in the bag? Oh…. I remember now. I buy my rice and beans from a lady on the corner who sells them from large buckets. She measures out a square box and pours the contents into a flimsy black plastic bag. I don’t have any containers in my house, so I usually just throw the bags on top of the refrigerator. I go through the rice fairly quickly (I’m averaging about 3 kilograms a week now), but I guess the beans have been there for a bit longer. Long enough to allow critters to spontaneously procreate.

Tomorrow’s sole goal. Tupperware.

New Photos! of my trips to Andong and Katbawi…

Highlights From My Most Recent Trip To Woobang Tower Land

In The Line In The Bathroom:

I’m standing there, towering over all the small Korean women, when I feel something very wet and sticky on my arm. I’m hesitant to turn around. This just can’t be good. Wet and sticky in a bathroom just isn’t a good combination. Curiosity wins. I slowly turn around, and there, in his mother’s arms, is a baby, stroking my arm with the duk (glutinous oblong rice pasta) he’s been slobbering on. I smile. He smiles back.

Conversation While Waiting In Line For A Roller Coaster:

He: I had chicken on a stick for only 1,000 won today. That’s 71 cents. From one of the street vendors.

Me: Was it good?

He: Yeah. But that’s not the point. How can you produce chicken for only 71 cents? It was a big stick.

Her: Labor is cheap. Land is cheap. Feed is cheap. It happens.

He: I’m dubious. Have you noticed there are no rats here. Or cats.

Me: Don’t go there.

He: Think about it.

Me: Oh, c’mon. Be for real.

He: I’m just saying. Everyone puts those huge bags of trash on the sidewalk. Every day. Lots and lots of food scraps. Wouldn’t you expect rats?

Me: (thinking)

He: And you don’t see cats anywhere. So there aren’t natural predators to take care of any rats.

Me: (still thinking)

He: I’m just saying…

Actually On The Roller Coaster:

I’m screaming “Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” and shrieking. From behind me, I hear my friend screaming, “Oh, kim chiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” What the ????

Trying To Kick The Soccer Ball:

I love midway games. Give me a chance to win a prize and I’m so all over it. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of games like this at Woobang Tower Land. Tons of video games, but very few carnival games. I found one, though. Try to kick a soccer ball through a giant (and I mean giant, like, 20 foot) tire. Doesn’t matter that I’ve never played soccer. Or that no other women are attempting to do this. I get in line. I pay my 1,000 won. I kick the first ball. It hits the base of the tire, but comes nowhere close to the opening. I attempt this feat 5 more times, with no success whatsoever. As I’m returning to the line for the ride, my friend says, dripping with sarcasm, “God, that was so good, Lori. Just, like 4 more feet and you so would have won.” Gee, thanks….

The man in line behind us tapped me on the shoulder. “So good. You American? American women. So strong. You excellent athlete. Very, very good at soccer.” The irony of his words seemed to be lost on him. But it made me smile.

Hellllllll-llllllooooooo~~~~~~~

Is how I always greet my classes. I never really noticed how I was saying it until one day I started class *without* saying it and the children became quite agitated. “Teacher, what’s wrong? No Hellllllll-llllllooooooo today. You okay?”

One class in particular, two elementary boys and a girl, anticipate my greeting every class. They sit in their seats, watching the door. As soon as I burst in, they sit up taller, taking a deep breath. I start my greeting, and they say it with me. They’ve gotten quite good. They’ve begun imitating my intonation when they answer questions in class. Which at first annoyed me, but now I just laugh.

Tonight the lesson was about countable and uncountable nouns. We had read the dialogue and I was explaining the grammar lesson. When I’m teaching they often will mouth words as I do, or imitate my hand gestures. Again, at first it annoyed me, but I then I thought, “at least they’re paying attention….” Tonight as I was delivering the lesson, I noticed one of the boys had already completed the first exercise. I then noticed they had all completed it. I quickly thought to myself, “Have we already done this lesson? I didn’t think so.” I was obviously confused, and they were obviously pleased with themselves. So I asked them, Have we already covered this? Did I forget? “No, teacher.” But, but you all have already done the first exercise? How? They all faced me with huge grins. “During break. We want surprise you. We study lesson. We know.”

This is one of those moments when I’m really glad to be a teacher….

I Figured Out How *Not*…

to make pa-jeon, the delicious pancake concoction I consume on a regular basis. It’s delicious. Incredibly so. Flatter than a pancake, but almost all vegetables (mostly green onion), usually containing squid legs, too. And so tasty. I had some for lunch again today. After mmming and smacking my lips, I commented I wanted to learn how to make it. My friend said, “So easy.” Chang-mal?? “Yes, really. That, that, that, with water. Paste. And fry.” That what? Egg? “No. No egg.” Flour? “No, no flour.” What, then? I think flour. “Wheat. When (and he rubbed his hands together as if grinding). Meal.” Yes, flour. Powder, right? “Yes. Very easy.”

I believed him. On the way home I bought some flour. I sauteed mushrooms, carrots, green onions and sprouts. I mixed together flour and water. Hmmm. It’s a paste, but I don’t think this is going to work. I mixed it some more. I think I do need to add an egg. So I added an egg, to help it stick together. I poured the mixture over the sizzling vegetables. After a minute, I flipped it.

It didn’t look like the pa-jeon I’ve had in restaurants. Not even close. It could best be described as a cross between a pancake on steroids and a fallen torta. That pretty much describes how it tasted, too. Thank god for kim chi.