No Worse Off for the Wear

Spam. Yep. Processed, over-salted, canned, pork shoulder. It's choice. It's upper-class. As Chusok gifts, SCG went all out, purchasing for each of it's 800 plus employees fifteen packaged cans of delectable Spam.

There's a lot of construction going on in the area. The ninth subway line is being put in right in front of the SCG building. It won't be completed for another two years, which is a shame. But it's fun to watch the workers go. These people don't mess around. I'm amazed at the amount of work that they can accomplish in a very short space of time. Equally amazing is their accompanying sense of propriety and decorum. Between each construction cone is tastefully placed a potted flowering plant.

Feeling sick on Wednesday, and with a pounding head, I desired neither to eat at the school cafeteria nor to fix myself lunch. Kimbop (seaweed, rice, and half dozen vegetables and meat all wrapped together) is one Korean food that I can't get enough of. Sold for only $2.00 a wrap, just around the corner from my apartment, I decided to place an order to go.
I stepped up to the counter, "Kimbop tu. Two kimbop." I said, adding the word for tuna, "ttushe."
"Neh," the counterperson affirmed, "Kimbop tu."
She reached for an ordinary roll of kimbop, without tuna. I stopped her, "Aniyo. Ttushe!"
She looked baffled, leaving me to suppose that I had the wrong word. I was quite certain that I had at least the consonants right, so I tried a different combination of vowels, "Ttusha?"
No luck.
"Tteshu? Ttoshe?"
I was becoming conspicuous. A spectacle. To my mortification, every eye in the entire establishment was now, with intrusive curiosity, gaping up at my chagrined face, and laughing smiles began to show on several of their own.
Ok. Fine. Different consonants. I took a deep breath and, pausing only long enough between each word for her expression to grow more baffled, began again, "Ttuche? Techu? Tashu?"
How supremely exasperating. "Tuna!!!" I finally sputtered, "I just want tuna!"
"Oh!" a laughing voice spoke up from behind, "Tuna. Chamchi."
With some embarrassment, I bowed my gratitude to this helpful individual. Turning to address myself again to the sales clerk, I proceeded with dignified composure, "Chamchi kimbop tu."
Oh well. The hard-earned tuna kimbop tasted delicious, and I had a good laugh with Teresa over the whole episode later, so I'm no worse off for the wear. And I now know how to order tuna.

Every now and again, the kindergarten goes on a class field trip. As their teachers, we Americans are required to go along. I don't mind at all, because we often to go very interesting places, and I get to see some parts of Korea that would otherwise remain a mystery to me. Speaking only English, we have no real responsibilities during these outings. The Korean teachers watch over our little charges, organizing and arranging everything, so we're left on our own to explore to our hearts' content. The first field trip was to a traditional village, where the royal family used to live. That was interesting, and I'll send pictures of that one of these days. The second was to a vineyard, of which I also have a few pictures.

An update on my present situation: I didn't move upstairs on the 28th as expected. Teresa and I still live together in apartment 201. This arrangement is permanent. I was uncertain, at first, about how well we two would get along. But, despite disparity of personality and taste, it's working quite expectedly well. This set up a bonus for me, because this way I'm able to save the money that would otherwise be spent on furnishing an apartment for myself. Teresa doesn't benefit from this arrangement as I do. Exceptionally gracious, she has asked me to stay, thus participating in sending me through school next year. I appreciate her generosity, and we continue to deal famously together.

My mind has lately been quite preoccupied with thoughts of the future. Specifically, how I'm to proceed (both logistically and financially) after I finish language school. The concern is, arguably, premature, but I should like to be directing my time now, in what small ways I can, toward the end at which I eventually hope to arrive. I relish not the prospect of finding myself, three years hence, at a loss as to how to proceed. Even in the midst of these concerns, though, I have been impressed with a deep sense of gratitude for God's trustworthiness. He knows, and is in every way capable and stable. There is such deep rest in that knowledge. I wrote a poem a few days ago that wraps it up pretty well:

This pensive seen upon my mind embossed:
The ruffled surface of a blue-green sea.
Foamy ripples, troubled swellings tossed
Upon the sandy shore, as if to flee
Those restless winds that chafe, and goad, and fret
The ruffled surface of a blue-green sea.
Waves swell and crest against the tempest's threat,
And ache, and sigh, and weep;
And gusty night hours creep;
And yet…the unstirred deep…

Please keep me in your prayers. I don't love God as I ought, and this troubles me. My own communication with Him has been dry lately, and I find myself missing His palpable presence with longing. But, as a dear friend so often reminds me, who am I that I should choose my way? He must use what means He will, be it dryness or discouragement or loneliness, in order to bring me to where I ought to be. And, in loving me as He does, He surely partakes of my weariness. What deep love, then, must compel Him to allow me to struggle, while His own heart weeps with mine. His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I love you dearly,
Elisabeth