Dear Family,
A week ago, Friday, I blissfully recorded in my little Thanksgivings Book, 'I have a cell phone – happy day!!' Having neither that blessed contrivance nor a land line, life in Seoul has been laboriously inconvenient. But now I'm finally able to get back in touch with friends that I said good bye to five months ago, and be more involved with people whose company I appreciate and enjoy.
I should have called myself the happy owner of this toy and tool a month ago, had it been in my power to make it so. After speaking to some people who had themselves gone through the process of finding a new phone, and feeling myself, if not linguistically competent, at least fumblingly capable of tackling the thing alone (foolish girl!), I wandered off, of a Thursday evening, to beard the lion in its den. Spotting the bright orange store front of a LG Telecom establishment, I stepped hesitantly through the door, and waited for a sales person to notice my presence, and offer his help.
Allow me to digress here. I must note that Korea is excessively 'service' oriented. If I buy a cake, the clerk will slip some candles under the lid of the box, smile sweetly up at me from behind the counter, and pronounce, 'sahbeece!' When I bought my fish, I asked the sales man how much it would cost to replace some of the parts in my water filter. He smiled grandly, 'sahbeece!' and then added for my benefit, 'no cost!'
I appreciate that mispronounced English word when it's applied to freebees, but it irritates me when service takes the form of personal assistance. Scanning the shelves in the hair products aisle, for example, a pretty, dark haired girl always steps shyly toward me, and attempts to ask in English what I'm looking for. 'Molahyo.' I shrug, hoping (without expecting) to be left in peace. Emboldened by my indecisiveness, the sales lady plucks up her courage, and begins a veritable lecture, in rapid Korean, on the various pros and cons of each of the dozens of product ranged before me. I try to appear disinterested, but she will not be daunted, and finally, with a multitude of colorful labels swimming before my baffled eyes, and my wrists sticky with hairsprays of various fragrances, I shake my bewildered head, declare, with a shameless disregard for the truth, that I don't need anything, and make a dash for freedom. Especially during my first year here, this frequently reenacted scene overwhelmed me, and I learned to keep a wary eye open for those daunting figures of benevolent accommodation, and to flee before they had a chance to open their mouths . Over the last while I have learned to simply ignore helpful voices and hands, and while I have yet to appreciate the help, at least I can value the humor of the situation.
But now, as I paused uncertainly on the threshold, I was hopeful, for the first time, of being personally assisted. Not knowing where to begin without the help, I waited expectantly to be addressed. But, to my astonished dismay, no one stepped forward. Instead, after glancing up at me, each turned a different shade of red, and applied himself, with a steady fixedness wonderful to behold, to his various job. And it struck me that I had made an irreme diable mistake in applying cosmetics before sallying forth.
I freeze myself, again, in this unexciting frame, and apologize for another necessary digression. It must be understood that, as a general rule, when I want to be taken seriously in Korea, I wear makeup. It took me some time to make the useful discovery that, when I do so, others are a little bit intimidated, and so I step out of the realm of 'ignorant child' and into that of 'the symbol and representative of the entire western world.' My perspective is, granted, rather exaggeratory, but the principle applies. With this in mind, and hoping for my desires to carry more weight, I had dressed myself up, completely forgetting that cell phone establishments (for some undiscovered reason) are peopled, almost exclusively, by young men. And, in their case alone, my methods backfire on me.
Most Korean men, between the ages of eighteen and thirty, behold me from a distance with curious wonder, and up close are reduced to varying degrees of mortal fear and trembling. Last year, one of the Korean teachers at SCG introduced me to a group of her friends. The girls shyly smiled, with their hands over their respective mouths, while the gentlemen, unable to take recourse in nervous giggles, bravely ploughed through the ordeal, dropping and upsetting everything in reach. I tried to appear small and un-intimidating, but was apparently unsuccessful, because after a moment, one of the guys pulled his friend aside and whispered, "I don't think I can do this without a drink. "
His remark was overheard, and my friend asked, "Have you never met a foreigner before?"
He replied in a rush, but with an appropriate degree of awe and reverence, "I've never been even this close to a foreigner!"
I return now to the small shop in which I left myself standing in an attitude of naive expectancy. As soon as I realized that, so far from having educed a universal atmosphere of peace and good will, I had effectually struck terror in the hearts these poor men, I attempted to atone for my inexcusable folly by making the first move, thereby helping them to help me. So I stepped up to the counter, and assumed a general air of hopeful uncertainty. Still, their various tasks completely consumed them, and no move was made to assist me. I became impatient, and mercilessly turned upon the man nearest, demanding, in English, "Do you speak English?"
"No." He replied, in English.
"Well, do you have any inexpensive cell phones?" Still in my native tongue.
"No, everything here is expensive."
Seeing the uncertainty in my face, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and in a reckless maneuver to dispose of me manfully, pointed to a KTF store up the street, "Over there. I think there are cheap phones there."
I shook my head over the bitter animosity that apparently exists between LG and their unsuspecting rivals in business, bowed my thanks, and crossed the street.
I may as well have spared myself the pains; I fared no better there. After wandering the streets for the better part of two hours, and visiting half a dozen establishments, all of whose phones were "very expensive", I bit my lower lip in agitation, attempted to console myself with a forty-cent ice cream from McDonalds, and made my weary way home.
A week later, Boyeun (a fellow teacher from last year, and very good Korean friend) offered her help. Together we revisited one of the establishments which I had previously darkened with such unconscious dismay, and within five minutes I had gleefully exchanged $30 for a unassuming phone of modest proportions. The clerk, setting up my account, required a copy of my passport and ID card, both of which I had had the foresight to bring along. But alas!
Informatively: "This visa is only good for six months."
Anxiously: "Yes?"
Heartlessly: "Well, we can't set up an account for you, unless you have a visa that will let you stay for a year."
Pleadingly: "But I don't work in Korea. I'm a student, so I can't get a longer visa. I will be here for at least a year and a half, but I have to renew my visa every six months."
Firmly: "I'm sorry."
So was I. Very sorry. My $30 was returned, and I made a noble attempt to be pleasant company to Boyeun for the rest of the evening. But I was glad to finally go to bed, and start tomorrow fresh.
But Boyeun, bless her!, didn't let the matter rest, and the next time I saw her, she handed me one of her old cell phones, saying, "You still won't be able to set up an account, but at least this way you can use pre-paid, and you don't have to buy a phone."
And so, to wrap up a very long story (my apologies, family): I now have a lovely little phone, the minutes of which I pay for in advance, and am rendered nearly as happy by it as I was upon receipt of my new stove.
Before leaving you in peace, I would like to offer a general apology, to all of you who have been so good as to email me over these last few weeks, for being so silently unresponsive. Excuses are generally very weak things, but I flatter myself that I have two that are at least passable. The first may appear the stronger, but they both carry, in my humble opinion, equal weight. My internet connection has been down during the entire second half of last month, and most of this month as well. I think that most of you will readily admit that this is a great deterrent to timely communication, and for those of you who are unconvinced, allow me to plead in my favor, that even had my connection not been down, I certainly hadn't the mental energy, after studying myself into a headache every evening, to stay on the computer a moment longer than necessary. However, these two disincentives are now removed and over the course of the next few days I hope to be able to be in closer personal touch. Meanwhile, your emails are as encouraging and brightening as ever, so please continue to support me with them!
Much love,
Elisabeth
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Demise of 'Double-U'
Dear Family,
These last two weeks have been quite inimitable, and tonight I experience, to an equal degree, the strangely compatible sensations of exultation and exhaustion.
An ordinary day, for me, consists of several hours of study after class. As the day of the finals approached, my study hours lengthened, until over this last week, it has been a regular thing for me to be immersed in Korean from nine in the morning to nine in the evening. Often, I would rub my burning eyes, and sit back to rest my neck and shoulders, pushing myself on with the thought: "Only a few more days, Lis. Just work at it for a few more days. You can rest then. Not yet. Not yet." Then I would bend again over my books until my mind ached. There is so much to learn and know, and my mind feels so very numb, sometimes.
Wednesday morning finally arrived, and I made it through the grammar & vocabulary, listening, and reading tests, without too much ado. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to studying for the morrow's interview, which was the only part of the whole ordeal that I was seriously worried about and dreading. When Thursday morning dawned, I got on my knees and told God that I didn't think I would be able do it. "But we both know why I'm here," I reminded Him, "So let's have a go at this together."
The twenty-minute interview over, I bowed to the teacher, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind me. At the gentle sound of the clicking latch, a hammering pulse abruptly began to pound behind my eyes, and I took myself home to rest. But, rather than subsiding, the headache worsened, and I finally gave in, before heading to school this morning, and took an aspirin.
I held my breath as my score card was passed to me, with a smile and a nod. Unfolding it, my eyes eagerly scanned the page, and I slowly exhaled when they spotted what they had hoped, but hardly expected, to find. While my classmates were all smiling, laughing and congratulating each other, I sat quietly, folded my paper without reading the note that my teacher had written at the bottom, and slipped it back into its envelope. And the sharp pain in my temples and behind my right eye, began instantly and mercifully to subside.
So I have officially passed Korean, level one.
I recently added some new fish to my tank, which, as it turned out, had a vicious streak, and began taking their issues out on my very gentle gold fish. I quickly grew weary of snapping on the tank to settle their disputes, but was loathe to leave 'Double-U' to his fate. So for a short while he lead an isolated, cramped existence in a mason jar. The solitary confinement apparently didn't suit his constitution, however, because he instantly went into a steady decline, growing languid and droopy, until one day he simply was no more. Due to a flash of rare and brilliant foresight, I had magnanimously bestowed my handsome, bright orange fishy, with his black fins and tail, on the unsuspecting Wilkes, a day before his untimely demise, and so, having subjected myself to the more immediate pain of separation, was spared the greater pain of disposing of the body. I now look with an choleric eye upon my remaining fish, especially Sorbet, whose color reminds me exactly of that desert, only perhaps rather less deliciously. He has little idea of how very often he falls under my the wrath of my righteous indignation, nor how very close he has come, on more than one occasion, to meeting his Maker. He may count himself fortunate that I haven't yet been able to bring myself to retaliate quite so vengefully, but toy, rather, with the idea of foisting…ahem!…with the idea of bestowing him upon my very good friends, as a consolation, of course, for their recent loss.
I must be off,
Elisabeth
These last two weeks have been quite inimitable, and tonight I experience, to an equal degree, the strangely compatible sensations of exultation and exhaustion.
An ordinary day, for me, consists of several hours of study after class. As the day of the finals approached, my study hours lengthened, until over this last week, it has been a regular thing for me to be immersed in Korean from nine in the morning to nine in the evening. Often, I would rub my burning eyes, and sit back to rest my neck and shoulders, pushing myself on with the thought: "Only a few more days, Lis. Just work at it for a few more days. You can rest then. Not yet. Not yet." Then I would bend again over my books until my mind ached. There is so much to learn and know, and my mind feels so very numb, sometimes.
Wednesday morning finally arrived, and I made it through the grammar & vocabulary, listening, and reading tests, without too much ado. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to studying for the morrow's interview, which was the only part of the whole ordeal that I was seriously worried about and dreading. When Thursday morning dawned, I got on my knees and told God that I didn't think I would be able do it. "But we both know why I'm here," I reminded Him, "So let's have a go at this together."
The twenty-minute interview over, I bowed to the teacher, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind me. At the gentle sound of the clicking latch, a hammering pulse abruptly began to pound behind my eyes, and I took myself home to rest. But, rather than subsiding, the headache worsened, and I finally gave in, before heading to school this morning, and took an aspirin.
I held my breath as my score card was passed to me, with a smile and a nod. Unfolding it, my eyes eagerly scanned the page, and I slowly exhaled when they spotted what they had hoped, but hardly expected, to find. While my classmates were all smiling, laughing and congratulating each other, I sat quietly, folded my paper without reading the note that my teacher had written at the bottom, and slipped it back into its envelope. And the sharp pain in my temples and behind my right eye, began instantly and mercifully to subside.
So I have officially passed Korean, level one.
I recently added some new fish to my tank, which, as it turned out, had a vicious streak, and began taking their issues out on my very gentle gold fish. I quickly grew weary of snapping on the tank to settle their disputes, but was loathe to leave 'Double-U' to his fate. So for a short while he lead an isolated, cramped existence in a mason jar. The solitary confinement apparently didn't suit his constitution, however, because he instantly went into a steady decline, growing languid and droopy, until one day he simply was no more. Due to a flash of rare and brilliant foresight, I had magnanimously bestowed my handsome, bright orange fishy, with his black fins and tail, on the unsuspecting Wilkes, a day before his untimely demise, and so, having subjected myself to the more immediate pain of separation, was spared the greater pain of disposing of the body. I now look with an choleric eye upon my remaining fish, especially Sorbet, whose color reminds me exactly of that desert, only perhaps rather less deliciously. He has little idea of how very often he falls under my the wrath of my righteous indignation, nor how very close he has come, on more than one occasion, to meeting his Maker. He may count himself fortunate that I haven't yet been able to bring myself to retaliate quite so vengefully, but toy, rather, with the idea of foisting…ahem!…with the idea of bestowing him upon my very good friends, as a consolation, of course, for their recent loss.
I must be off,
Elisabeth
Saturday, November 03, 2007
보고 싶은 가족이
보고 싶은 가족이 - Dear Family,
I do enjoy Saturdays! That is the one day a week that I allow myself the luxury of sleeping in as long as I like, and of not opening my Korean books all day. Instead, as the day gets lazily underway, I usually turn on quiet music, and take up some craft or art to employ myself with. Such a very pleasant and relaxing way to spend a cold afternoon, snuggled in my little house! Last weekend I wrote some letters, and this weekend I painted my window. I haven't curtains, you see. And my front, wood-paned window looked a little bleak all by itself. So a few weeks ago I bought some watercolors and paintbrushes. I haven't had time to actually use them until today. After sketching an outline, in black, I thinned down all the paints, and colored in my hills and tree and river and sunshine and clouds, feeling as though I were painting in the pages of a coloring book. After they dried, I fitted the windows back in their tracts. Against the light from outside, the water colors took on a stained glass effect, as I'd hoped they would, so I'm quite happily pleased with the results.
Days are growing colder. I've been keeping my eye on Oregon weather, and though we have yet to catch up to you, it's cold enough here that the mosquitoes are finally dying off. That is a very good thing. For nearly the whole month of October, I would jerk awake three or four times a night to a high pitched whine in my ear. After a few nights of particularly fruitless mosquito hunts, supplemented by empty threats, I discovered that if I leapt out of bed and flicked the light on instantly, the mosquito usually wouldn't have time to fly further than a few feet from the head of my bed before being stunned by the light, and settling on a wall. Then it became a simple matter for me to reach for the sandal I keep under my bed, for just such a purpose, and deal the penalty of capitol punishment on the offending party. Of course, in the chill night air, such procedure would thoroughly wake me, and not being the one of those fortunate few who fall asleep the moment their heads touch the pillow, my only consolation lay in the fact that my opponent had fared worse than I.
Finals are upon us. In just a week and a half the interrogation begins, and for three days we'll feel the pressure of having our writing, grammar, reading, listening, and speaking skills minutely examined and picked to pieces. An intimidating prospect, but one that I look forward to more with impatience to be finished than with dread. We'll be given two weeks, after that, to recover from the ordeal. Then those of us who are fortunate enough to have passed inspection will move on to level two, while the rest of us are corralled heartlessly back to the beginning. I want to pass. Replace that verb with a dozen more potent, and the mark may come close to being hit. I desire, wish, aspire, long, yearn… You may be glad that I haven't a thesaurus by me now, or the list would be indefinitely extended. But even so, I have perfect calm in God's hand over all. I know that the outcome, whatever it may be, will be governed by Him, and so I experience no trepidation, no anxiety. Just a very strong desire to be given a few days to rest. That God is my strength is reassuring, because where my own abilities fail, His never reach an end. He is always strength, and I am always His. Thus, by right of love, I have unlimited access to His unlimited help.
On Friday evenings I've been attending a Bible study that meets in a little coffee shop about fifteen minutes, on foot, from my house. I find it particularly pleasant. It's a very small group, composed of a few enthusiastic individuals. Since I haven't found a church, yet, that I feel at all one with, these few hours of fellowship on Friday are a blessing to me.
I've been studying Psalm 18, and am struck again and again by the violence of God's response to David's cry for help, and by the calamitous discomfiture into which the world is cast in response to God's wrath. And why? How can David have had such a hearing with One to Whom the earth responds by undulating and violently agitating, and the mountains and hills by quivering with fear? It's incredible to me that God allows Himself to be so swayed by our words. But He does. And so, please continue to lift me before Him…
Elisabeth
I do enjoy Saturdays! That is the one day a week that I allow myself the luxury of sleeping in as long as I like, and of not opening my Korean books all day. Instead, as the day gets lazily underway, I usually turn on quiet music, and take up some craft or art to employ myself with. Such a very pleasant and relaxing way to spend a cold afternoon, snuggled in my little house! Last weekend I wrote some letters, and this weekend I painted my window. I haven't curtains, you see. And my front, wood-paned window looked a little bleak all by itself. So a few weeks ago I bought some watercolors and paintbrushes. I haven't had time to actually use them until today. After sketching an outline, in black, I thinned down all the paints, and colored in my hills and tree and river and sunshine and clouds, feeling as though I were painting in the pages of a coloring book. After they dried, I fitted the windows back in their tracts. Against the light from outside, the water colors took on a stained glass effect, as I'd hoped they would, so I'm quite happily pleased with the results.
Days are growing colder. I've been keeping my eye on Oregon weather, and though we have yet to catch up to you, it's cold enough here that the mosquitoes are finally dying off. That is a very good thing. For nearly the whole month of October, I would jerk awake three or four times a night to a high pitched whine in my ear. After a few nights of particularly fruitless mosquito hunts, supplemented by empty threats, I discovered that if I leapt out of bed and flicked the light on instantly, the mosquito usually wouldn't have time to fly further than a few feet from the head of my bed before being stunned by the light, and settling on a wall. Then it became a simple matter for me to reach for the sandal I keep under my bed, for just such a purpose, and deal the penalty of capitol punishment on the offending party. Of course, in the chill night air, such procedure would thoroughly wake me, and not being the one of those fortunate few who fall asleep the moment their heads touch the pillow, my only consolation lay in the fact that my opponent had fared worse than I.
Finals are upon us. In just a week and a half the interrogation begins, and for three days we'll feel the pressure of having our writing, grammar, reading, listening, and speaking skills minutely examined and picked to pieces. An intimidating prospect, but one that I look forward to more with impatience to be finished than with dread. We'll be given two weeks, after that, to recover from the ordeal. Then those of us who are fortunate enough to have passed inspection will move on to level two, while the rest of us are corralled heartlessly back to the beginning. I want to pass. Replace that verb with a dozen more potent, and the mark may come close to being hit. I desire, wish, aspire, long, yearn… You may be glad that I haven't a thesaurus by me now, or the list would be indefinitely extended. But even so, I have perfect calm in God's hand over all. I know that the outcome, whatever it may be, will be governed by Him, and so I experience no trepidation, no anxiety. Just a very strong desire to be given a few days to rest. That God is my strength is reassuring, because where my own abilities fail, His never reach an end. He is always strength, and I am always His. Thus, by right of love, I have unlimited access to His unlimited help.
On Friday evenings I've been attending a Bible study that meets in a little coffee shop about fifteen minutes, on foot, from my house. I find it particularly pleasant. It's a very small group, composed of a few enthusiastic individuals. Since I haven't found a church, yet, that I feel at all one with, these few hours of fellowship on Friday are a blessing to me.
I've been studying Psalm 18, and am struck again and again by the violence of God's response to David's cry for help, and by the calamitous discomfiture into which the world is cast in response to God's wrath. And why? How can David have had such a hearing with One to Whom the earth responds by undulating and violently agitating, and the mountains and hills by quivering with fear? It's incredible to me that God allows Himself to be so swayed by our words. But He does. And so, please continue to lift me before Him…
Elisabeth
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A Very Good Stove
Dear Family,
It feels rather more like three months than three weeks have passed between my last email and this. Oregon seems so long ago and far away, it's such a different world! Sometimes it's hard to picture you all going about your daily lives there, as I do here, with the same vitality of life and moment by moment experiences.
Last week and this have been occupied with preparing for our mid-terms. We had our writing, listening, reading tests on Friday, which I think I did okay on. In any case, I felt well enough prepared for those. Tomorrow we've an interview, which is a little more nerve wracking to look forward to. At least with reading and writing one can take what time he needs and go back to review his answers before submitting them. But speaking is a different matter. One must, of necessity, be somewhat spontaneous, and there isn't the time-to-think allowance. I'll probably do okay, if I don't get too flustered, but there's no guarantee on that . Actually, provided you check your email in the early afternoon, I'll be taking my interview as you read this.
And then life, or at least school, goes back to normal.
Tomorrow, directly after the interview, I make my way to Apgujeong Station, about forty-five minutes away, for what will hopefully be my last check up in relation to my wisdom teeth extraction.
I had my sutures out two weeks ago, and what pleasant relief that was! The swelling in my mouth had gone down right away, leaving those loose and abrasive. That was, I announce with a general feeling of gratitude, the worst of it. The dentist had told me that, because of where the nerves in my jaw run in relation to the roots of my teeth, I should expect to experience numbness and tingling for a few months after the extraction. On the left side, he said, the nerves were so close that he couldn't recommend the extraction of those teeth, and that if I chose to have them out, I should be prepared to loose the feeling on that side of my mouth for up to one and a half years. As you know, I decided to brave the consequences and have them pulled anyway, for a number of inconsequential reasons. When I went back a week after the event for a check up, he looked at my throat and gums and jaw, and asked if I was experiencing any numbness or tingling yet (it's supposed to take up to a week to begin to loose feeling). When he saw that there was no swelling, no pain (I never had to take the painkiller he had prescribed), and no nerve damage, he exclaimed, "You had all four wisdom teeth out at once, and there are no complications. That is impossible." Since my mouth was hanging open with a mirror and pick in it, I was unable to answer. But I smiled with my eyes, and thanked God with my heart, thinking, "Yes, that's just like You."
The gas range that gawkily adorned my kitchen when I moved in was much improved, in appearance only, by a thorough scrubbing. In response to every other aspect thereof, the best attitude that I could muster was a half-hearted, "Well, at least it's something." But that something, the flame of which was altogether impish and capricious, may as well have been a nothing, for all the use I got out of it. Before the flame would condescend to even catch, I had to flick the knob between the on and off positions at least a half dozen times. At that point, it would flicker for only a second before going out again. After two or three more minutes of knob flicking, the stove would acknowledge me master of the situation, and the flame would stay lit. But only at a full blaze. There was no turning it down even the smallest degree. Really, the only thing it was good for was boiling water, because that is unburnable. But even then, I couldn't use my pot, because the flame would lick up its sides and melt its plastic handles. Nevertheless, undaunted and determined, I would light the flame, brave the nauseating gas fumes, and hold my big frying pan up several inches above the fire to cook at a simulated low heat. Needless to say, I did more eating out than home cooking during those first weeks.
The fix-it man, the same who had replaced all my toilet parts as I was moving in, came by about two weeks ago, at my request, and looked at the stove, to see if he could fix it. After tinkering a bit, he shook his head gravely, and pronounced the solemn verdict, "You need a new stove."
I sighed, and nodded, "Yes, I thought I might. Thank you for looking at it."
He then took himself off, and I made a mental note to go stove shopping over the weekend.
Fifteen minutes later, there was another knock on the door. I opened it to find that the fix-it man had returned, "Here is a new stove." He nodded over his shoulder, and stepped aside to make way for a second man, bent double with a heavy box on his back. I was surprised, thought not displeased, and followed them curiously into the kitchen.
"It costs a hundred fifty thousand won (about $150)." Mr. Fix-it casually informed me.
I was appalled, "Oh! That's too expensive!"
He shook his head grandly, "No, this is a very good stove."
"But I don't have a lot of money. And I know I can get one for only fifty thousand."
Again, "It's a very good stove." in a placid tone of voice.
"I don't want a good stove." I objected, with some asperity, "I want a cheep stove!"
I was then treated to the, 'Now, now! Be a good child!' look that, as a foreigner, I've grown accustomed to, but have yet to learn to accept gracefully. Seeing, however, that there was nothing to be done, and since the new stove had by this time been installed by my friend's companion, I swallowed further objections, and attempted to appreciate the magnanimousness that had prompted this gesture, however unsolicited it may have been.
As it turned out, and which I discovered just a few minutes later, Mr. Fix-it had already paid for the stove on behalf of my landlady, his sister-in-law, and was having it installed as an addition to the apartment, with no expectation of being reimbursed. When I discovered this, I was, of course, consternated at the recollection of my very un-gracious behavior, and attempted to atone for it by thanking him kindly, and acknowledging in enthusiastic accents that it was indeed a remarkably good stove.
Apparently unconscious of my duplicity, he smiled pleasantly and promised to return soon to fix the leak under my sink.
At his departure, I tripped euphorically back into the kitchen, rapturously embraced my beautiful, very good stove, and immediately set about to scrambled myself some eggs. I don't, ordinarily, find that dish particularly appetizing, but I must say, I've never before tasted more delectable eggs. Even still, the thought of my new gas range fills me with ecstasy, and I wonder that I never before appreciated the beauty of that particular convenience, as I do now.
There's so much more to write of, but I need to get to bed, so it will have to wait.
Meanwhile, may God bless and keep each one of you, as He has me,
Elisabeth
It feels rather more like three months than three weeks have passed between my last email and this. Oregon seems so long ago and far away, it's such a different world! Sometimes it's hard to picture you all going about your daily lives there, as I do here, with the same vitality of life and moment by moment experiences.
Last week and this have been occupied with preparing for our mid-terms. We had our writing, listening, reading tests on Friday, which I think I did okay on. In any case, I felt well enough prepared for those. Tomorrow we've an interview, which is a little more nerve wracking to look forward to. At least with reading and writing one can take what time he needs and go back to review his answers before submitting them. But speaking is a different matter. One must, of necessity, be somewhat spontaneous, and there isn't the time-to-think allowance. I'll probably do okay, if I don't get too flustered, but there's no guarantee on that . Actually, provided you check your email in the early afternoon, I'll be taking my interview as you read this.
And then life, or at least school, goes back to normal.
Tomorrow, directly after the interview, I make my way to Apgujeong Station, about forty-five minutes away, for what will hopefully be my last check up in relation to my wisdom teeth extraction.
I had my sutures out two weeks ago, and what pleasant relief that was! The swelling in my mouth had gone down right away, leaving those loose and abrasive. That was, I announce with a general feeling of gratitude, the worst of it. The dentist had told me that, because of where the nerves in my jaw run in relation to the roots of my teeth, I should expect to experience numbness and tingling for a few months after the extraction. On the left side, he said, the nerves were so close that he couldn't recommend the extraction of those teeth, and that if I chose to have them out, I should be prepared to loose the feeling on that side of my mouth for up to one and a half years. As you know, I decided to brave the consequences and have them pulled anyway, for a number of inconsequential reasons. When I went back a week after the event for a check up, he looked at my throat and gums and jaw, and asked if I was experiencing any numbness or tingling yet (it's supposed to take up to a week to begin to loose feeling). When he saw that there was no swelling, no pain (I never had to take the painkiller he had prescribed), and no nerve damage, he exclaimed, "You had all four wisdom teeth out at once, and there are no complications. That is impossible." Since my mouth was hanging open with a mirror and pick in it, I was unable to answer. But I smiled with my eyes, and thanked God with my heart, thinking, "Yes, that's just like You."
The gas range that gawkily adorned my kitchen when I moved in was much improved, in appearance only, by a thorough scrubbing. In response to every other aspect thereof, the best attitude that I could muster was a half-hearted, "Well, at least it's something." But that something, the flame of which was altogether impish and capricious, may as well have been a nothing, for all the use I got out of it. Before the flame would condescend to even catch, I had to flick the knob between the on and off positions at least a half dozen times. At that point, it would flicker for only a second before going out again. After two or three more minutes of knob flicking, the stove would acknowledge me master of the situation, and the flame would stay lit. But only at a full blaze. There was no turning it down even the smallest degree. Really, the only thing it was good for was boiling water, because that is unburnable. But even then, I couldn't use my pot, because the flame would lick up its sides and melt its plastic handles. Nevertheless, undaunted and determined, I would light the flame, brave the nauseating gas fumes, and hold my big frying pan up several inches above the fire to cook at a simulated low heat. Needless to say, I did more eating out than home cooking during those first weeks.
The fix-it man, the same who had replaced all my toilet parts as I was moving in, came by about two weeks ago, at my request, and looked at the stove, to see if he could fix it. After tinkering a bit, he shook his head gravely, and pronounced the solemn verdict, "You need a new stove."
I sighed, and nodded, "Yes, I thought I might. Thank you for looking at it."
He then took himself off, and I made a mental note to go stove shopping over the weekend.
Fifteen minutes later, there was another knock on the door. I opened it to find that the fix-it man had returned, "Here is a new stove." He nodded over his shoulder, and stepped aside to make way for a second man, bent double with a heavy box on his back. I was surprised, thought not displeased, and followed them curiously into the kitchen.
"It costs a hundred fifty thousand won (about $150)." Mr. Fix-it casually informed me.
I was appalled, "Oh! That's too expensive!"
He shook his head grandly, "No, this is a very good stove."
"But I don't have a lot of money. And I know I can get one for only fifty thousand."
Again, "It's a very good stove." in a placid tone of voice.
"I don't want a good stove." I objected, with some asperity, "I want a cheep stove!"
I was then treated to the, 'Now, now! Be a good child!' look that, as a foreigner, I've grown accustomed to, but have yet to learn to accept gracefully. Seeing, however, that there was nothing to be done, and since the new stove had by this time been installed by my friend's companion, I swallowed further objections, and attempted to appreciate the magnanimousness that had prompted this gesture, however unsolicited it may have been.
As it turned out, and which I discovered just a few minutes later, Mr. Fix-it had already paid for the stove on behalf of my landlady, his sister-in-law, and was having it installed as an addition to the apartment, with no expectation of being reimbursed. When I discovered this, I was, of course, consternated at the recollection of my very un-gracious behavior, and attempted to atone for it by thanking him kindly, and acknowledging in enthusiastic accents that it was indeed a remarkably good stove.
Apparently unconscious of my duplicity, he smiled pleasantly and promised to return soon to fix the leak under my sink.
At his departure, I tripped euphorically back into the kitchen, rapturously embraced my beautiful, very good stove, and immediately set about to scrambled myself some eggs. I don't, ordinarily, find that dish particularly appetizing, but I must say, I've never before tasted more delectable eggs. Even still, the thought of my new gas range fills me with ecstasy, and I wonder that I never before appreciated the beauty of that particular convenience, as I do now.
There's so much more to write of, but I need to get to bed, so it will have to wait.
Meanwhile, may God bless and keep each one of you, as He has me,
Elisabeth
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Various Instruments of Torture
Dear Ones,
Chusok, Korean Thanksgiving, is upon us. This is the second most important holiday in Korea, next only to their three day New Year celebration. All my shopping for the week was done in advance, because shops will be closed up until Thursday. Seoul is a pretty quiet city during this week, because most families have traveled to other parts of Korea, to spend the holiday at the home of the paternal family's eldest son. When the families are together, they visit their ancestors' graves to set out food and pay obeisance. It used to be believed that every person has three spirits. When a person dies, one of those spirits enters the spirit world, one remains in the grave, and one returns to the house of the family. So I think the idea is to keep the 'grave spirit' happy, so that the 'house spirit' will protect the family, instead of becoming a menace. I don't know if that's still a serious belief any more, but the custom of ancestor worship is still observed, and some of my Christian friends have experienced conflict with relatives, who consider their refusal to bow to be nothing more than a disrespectful demonstration. For myself, the holiday is nothing more or less than an welcomed break from school.
I'm a little headachy, because I've been cleaning. On Thursday I had my wisdom teeth pulled, and since then the least exertion wipes me out. It puzzles me a little bit, because it really wasn't that much of an ordeal.
Ruth came with me to the dentist's, which I was glad for. It was a good thing to have her company to keep my mind off of what I uneasily looked forward to as my impending doom. After getting only a little bit lost, and understandably exasperating our poor taxi driver, we arrived at the office just on time.
My dentist is wonderful, and was very patient with all my nervous questions. I was glad to learn that he didn't mean to put me under, but only to numb me. Somehow, the idea of being knocked out while native parts of my mouth were forcefully removed wholly unsettled me. However, when the dentist picked up a three inch long needle I nearly changed my mind. I closed my eyes, but Dr. Jung didn't like that. He made me open them again, and look at him. He told me later that he needed to be able to watch my pupils, to make sure that I was reacting to the anesthesia okay. And so I nervously watched the needle being brought to my mouth, and clenched my fists as felt it burry itself in my jaw. It hurt, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I was surprised to feel tears rolling down my face. The needle was drawn out, and re-pierced me again and again, until my whole mouth began to ache. It was an eternity and eighteen shots, before Dr. Jung was satisfied. He sat me up, and left me for five minutes while the numbness spread mercifully through my jaw and over my face, until all I could feel was a five pound lower lip.
The first tooth came out quickly. While Dr. Jung worked, I tried to keep my mind else where. I was pretty certain that when the tooth was ripped out, it would feel intolerable. So I put into practice a little trick I've used before: I pulled to mind all the blessings in my life, particularly those related to the present situation, and thanked God for them. "God, thank You for a good dentist. Thank You that I have enough money to do this. Thank You that Ruth could come with me. Thank You we were able to find our way here. Thank you for…" I fired them off in rapid succession, leaving no room for uncomfortable thoughts, and as always, this calmed me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I was feeling a pressure somewhere in my mouth, but it was entirely painless, and I was surprised when Dr. Jung announced, "The first tooth is out."
After that, all nervousness dissipated, and I began to be interested in the proceedings. I opened my eyes, and watched various instruments of torture being lifted toward my mouth. Always they came away covered in blood, which was actually pretty gross. I didn't like to watch Dr. Jung preparing to sew up my gums after each tooth was pulled, but otherwise found it interesting.
The second tooth was out, and Dr. Jung let me close my mouth for a minute to rest. I was glad for that, because my neck was beginning to ache. Before he began again, I asked if I could use a mirror to watch the next one being pulled. To my disappointment, he shook his head.
The third tooth came out as unconcernedly as the previous two had. Almost as though it didn't consider itself bound to me by our previous four years of experience together, and would just as soon be out of my mouth as in.
The last tooth, however, was not so complying. My lower, left jaw wasn't as numb as the rest of my mouth. I had wondered if I should tell him so before he began, but hadn't wanted him to give me another shot, and so had kept silent. When he reached in and began to loosen that last tooth, I felt it being worked out of the socket, and began to regret my squeamishness. My neck was so tired, by this time, that I couldn't hold my head against the dentist's pull. His aid gripped my forehead and lower jaw and held me in place, and as they pulled against each other, the muscles in my neck and shoulders began to tremble spasmodically with weariness. When Dr. Jung showed me the tooth after it was all over, I saw why this one had been so difficult. The roots were bent and twisted at the tip, nearly to a ninety degree angle, so that they were almost barbed. "We have a saying in Korea," Dr. Jung smiled, "A person is like the roots of his teeth. If the roots are twisted, then his personality is very unique." Is this good or bad?
Dr. Jung sat me up, and gave me a glass of water and ibuprofen. Remembering the last time I'd attempted to take a drink while my upper and lower lips were both numb, this time I tipped my head back to keep the water where it should be, and gratefully swallowed the pain killer.
I wanted to stand, so I looked over to where Dr. Jung was pulling of his gloves. "Can I gelluf?" The sound of my voice startled me into giggling, and I modestly covered my mouth with my hand, a very Korean gesture. "I thoun thransh!"
Dr. Jung, bless him, speaks very equitable English, but his skills were no match for my slurred words. Fortunately, he seemed to understand that I was finding amusement in the way my words 'thounded' and just smiled.
I wasn't supposed to talk much, and since I had wads of netted padding stuffed into all four corners of my poor, swollen mouth it was more comfortable to be still. But when we went back out to the waiting room to find Ruth, I wanted to relate all my experiences to her. This attempt earned me a gentle rebuke from Dr. Jung, "Don't talk!"
I was really alert, so instead of taking a taxi back, as I'd intended, we rode the subway. Aside from drooling blood the whole way home (Ruth had happily thought to provide me with tissue, bless her!), it was an uneventful ride.
I was happy to be home, and to be still. But I couldn't rest, so I sat down and wrote a simple poem, to remind myself of God's goodness:
Lord, You have searched, and have known my ways:
When I wake, when I sleep, how I structure my days.
Your hand rests upon me, my thoughts are Your own.
My path is compassed, all my ways You have known.
Every word on my tongue You have heard in my mind.
You uphold and compass me before and behind.
I cannot conceive why I should be thus sought;
Such wonderful knowledge is greater than thought!
Where can I hide from Your Spirit in me?
Where from Your presence of love shall I flee?
If I raise up to heaven, my way You prepare.
If I lie down in hell, You remain by me there.
If I fly on the wings of the dawn, to be free,
Or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there will Your hand in my own lead my feet,
Will Your right hand enfold me and make me complete.
How precious and rare are Your thoughts about me,
More numerous in count than the sand of the sea.
Before I was born, Your love set me apart.
You have purchased my mind, and have captured my heart.
Search me, O God, know my thoughts and my ways.
May each breath that I take render glory and praise
To the One Who so fearfully and wonderfully chose
His wisdom and power in me to disclose.
Chusok, Korean Thanksgiving, is upon us. This is the second most important holiday in Korea, next only to their three day New Year celebration. All my shopping for the week was done in advance, because shops will be closed up until Thursday. Seoul is a pretty quiet city during this week, because most families have traveled to other parts of Korea, to spend the holiday at the home of the paternal family's eldest son. When the families are together, they visit their ancestors' graves to set out food and pay obeisance. It used to be believed that every person has three spirits. When a person dies, one of those spirits enters the spirit world, one remains in the grave, and one returns to the house of the family. So I think the idea is to keep the 'grave spirit' happy, so that the 'house spirit' will protect the family, instead of becoming a menace. I don't know if that's still a serious belief any more, but the custom of ancestor worship is still observed, and some of my Christian friends have experienced conflict with relatives, who consider their refusal to bow to be nothing more than a disrespectful demonstration. For myself, the holiday is nothing more or less than an welcomed break from school.
I'm a little headachy, because I've been cleaning. On Thursday I had my wisdom teeth pulled, and since then the least exertion wipes me out. It puzzles me a little bit, because it really wasn't that much of an ordeal.
Ruth came with me to the dentist's, which I was glad for. It was a good thing to have her company to keep my mind off of what I uneasily looked forward to as my impending doom. After getting only a little bit lost, and understandably exasperating our poor taxi driver, we arrived at the office just on time.
My dentist is wonderful, and was very patient with all my nervous questions. I was glad to learn that he didn't mean to put me under, but only to numb me. Somehow, the idea of being knocked out while native parts of my mouth were forcefully removed wholly unsettled me. However, when the dentist picked up a three inch long needle I nearly changed my mind. I closed my eyes, but Dr. Jung didn't like that. He made me open them again, and look at him. He told me later that he needed to be able to watch my pupils, to make sure that I was reacting to the anesthesia okay. And so I nervously watched the needle being brought to my mouth, and clenched my fists as felt it burry itself in my jaw. It hurt, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I was surprised to feel tears rolling down my face. The needle was drawn out, and re-pierced me again and again, until my whole mouth began to ache. It was an eternity and eighteen shots, before Dr. Jung was satisfied. He sat me up, and left me for five minutes while the numbness spread mercifully through my jaw and over my face, until all I could feel was a five pound lower lip.
The first tooth came out quickly. While Dr. Jung worked, I tried to keep my mind else where. I was pretty certain that when the tooth was ripped out, it would feel intolerable. So I put into practice a little trick I've used before: I pulled to mind all the blessings in my life, particularly those related to the present situation, and thanked God for them. "God, thank You for a good dentist. Thank You that I have enough money to do this. Thank You that Ruth could come with me. Thank You we were able to find our way here. Thank you for…" I fired them off in rapid succession, leaving no room for uncomfortable thoughts, and as always, this calmed me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I was feeling a pressure somewhere in my mouth, but it was entirely painless, and I was surprised when Dr. Jung announced, "The first tooth is out."
After that, all nervousness dissipated, and I began to be interested in the proceedings. I opened my eyes, and watched various instruments of torture being lifted toward my mouth. Always they came away covered in blood, which was actually pretty gross. I didn't like to watch Dr. Jung preparing to sew up my gums after each tooth was pulled, but otherwise found it interesting.
The second tooth was out, and Dr. Jung let me close my mouth for a minute to rest. I was glad for that, because my neck was beginning to ache. Before he began again, I asked if I could use a mirror to watch the next one being pulled. To my disappointment, he shook his head.
The third tooth came out as unconcernedly as the previous two had. Almost as though it didn't consider itself bound to me by our previous four years of experience together, and would just as soon be out of my mouth as in.
The last tooth, however, was not so complying. My lower, left jaw wasn't as numb as the rest of my mouth. I had wondered if I should tell him so before he began, but hadn't wanted him to give me another shot, and so had kept silent. When he reached in and began to loosen that last tooth, I felt it being worked out of the socket, and began to regret my squeamishness. My neck was so tired, by this time, that I couldn't hold my head against the dentist's pull. His aid gripped my forehead and lower jaw and held me in place, and as they pulled against each other, the muscles in my neck and shoulders began to tremble spasmodically with weariness. When Dr. Jung showed me the tooth after it was all over, I saw why this one had been so difficult. The roots were bent and twisted at the tip, nearly to a ninety degree angle, so that they were almost barbed. "We have a saying in Korea," Dr. Jung smiled, "A person is like the roots of his teeth. If the roots are twisted, then his personality is very unique." Is this good or bad?
Dr. Jung sat me up, and gave me a glass of water and ibuprofen. Remembering the last time I'd attempted to take a drink while my upper and lower lips were both numb, this time I tipped my head back to keep the water where it should be, and gratefully swallowed the pain killer.
I wanted to stand, so I looked over to where Dr. Jung was pulling of his gloves. "Can I gelluf?" The sound of my voice startled me into giggling, and I modestly covered my mouth with my hand, a very Korean gesture. "I thoun thransh!"
Dr. Jung, bless him, speaks very equitable English, but his skills were no match for my slurred words. Fortunately, he seemed to understand that I was finding amusement in the way my words 'thounded' and just smiled.
I wasn't supposed to talk much, and since I had wads of netted padding stuffed into all four corners of my poor, swollen mouth it was more comfortable to be still. But when we went back out to the waiting room to find Ruth, I wanted to relate all my experiences to her. This attempt earned me a gentle rebuke from Dr. Jung, "Don't talk!"
I was really alert, so instead of taking a taxi back, as I'd intended, we rode the subway. Aside from drooling blood the whole way home (Ruth had happily thought to provide me with tissue, bless her!), it was an uneventful ride.
I was happy to be home, and to be still. But I couldn't rest, so I sat down and wrote a simple poem, to remind myself of God's goodness:
Lord, You have searched, and have known my ways:
When I wake, when I sleep, how I structure my days.
Your hand rests upon me, my thoughts are Your own.
My path is compassed, all my ways You have known.
Every word on my tongue You have heard in my mind.
You uphold and compass me before and behind.
I cannot conceive why I should be thus sought;
Such wonderful knowledge is greater than thought!
Where can I hide from Your Spirit in me?
Where from Your presence of love shall I flee?
If I raise up to heaven, my way You prepare.
If I lie down in hell, You remain by me there.
If I fly on the wings of the dawn, to be free,
Or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there will Your hand in my own lead my feet,
Will Your right hand enfold me and make me complete.
How precious and rare are Your thoughts about me,
More numerous in count than the sand of the sea.
Before I was born, Your love set me apart.
You have purchased my mind, and have captured my heart.
Search me, O God, know my thoughts and my ways.
May each breath that I take render glory and praise
To the One Who so fearfully and wonderfully chose
His wisdom and power in me to disclose.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Indomitably Plunging
Family o' mine,
Today is Saturday, and what a lovely day it is. Overcast and cool. I don't usually like autumn, being the forerunner of winter. But always before I've possessed some means of dominating summer's ruthless heat. Now I have no AC, no fan, and even open windows at night are taboo, because this is mosquito season. So, while I still stand in dread of the coming frigid temperatures, today's coolness is very welcome.
I write, not because I really have anything to say, but because I miss you all. Saturdays are slow and lazy, which is nice in some ways. But it does leave me with a lot of unoccupied time on my hands. Mom is sending me two boxes of books, which I expect to get any time now. I look forward to that.
Meanwhile I continue to plod doggedly along. But perhaps the words 'plod' and 'dogged' are too arduous. I have, after all, been back at it for only two weeks. Maybe I should save that expression for some five or six months down the road, where it may be more applicable, and be content at present to 'plunge indomitably forward.'
Ah yes, that's much more apt! When I picture a man standing to take an indomitable plunge, I can see fire burning in his eyes, and can feel the charge of electricity coursing through his body. That same thrill of vigorous life has been my experience since being back in Korea. I love to wake up every morning. I love to breath, and to flex my fingers, and to shiver with delight at God's all-ness. I love to sing to myself, and to wait for the traffic light to turn green, and to watch the sky grow dark every evening. I love all the wonder of feeling and thinking and breathing and doing that comes with being alive.
I picked up a bug, while in China, that I just don't seem to be able to shake. This morning my head was feeling particularly uncomfortable. But later, after school, I slept for two and a half hours, and hopefully the rest will help me to be able to fight whatever this is that's taking me out.
I had my first dream in Korean. Yay! Well, maybe it wasn't really in Korean, but I dreamt I was studying, and through the whole dream all of my hundreds of vocabulary words and phrases were shooting themselves through my mind, over and over and over and over again. It was actually kind of stressful, but hey! If I can sleep and learn at the same time, I'll be the last to complain.
I really love the challenge of learning Korean. Studying this language stretches my mind. It focuses my energy. It tantalizes and teases, laughing at my efforts. It dances and skips just out of reach. But someday I shall get the better of it, and I love to hope for that time.
I appreciate my language teachers, too. Last year, I took one level at Ewha, and there's no comparison between my present experience and that. The Sogang teachers enjoy their job and want us to learn, and the program here is really student friendly. Lots of speaking/listening time, which is what I need more than anything. My strong points are reading and writing, but the oral skills just kill me. I feel, though, like I'm finally breaking through that. It's still a challenge, and often frustrating, but I'm on the up-hill, and that excites me.
My back has been aching lately. It's the same old story, from when I fell on the ice several years ago, in New Hampshire. It hurts especially when I sit for long periods of time, so three hours in the morning during class, and two or three hours of study in the afternoon leaves me with a sharp pain between my shoulders that sometimes goes away quickly, but other times lasts for days. So please be praying for me.
I'd like to thank you again for your emails. I'm sorry that I've been so bad about responding in a timely fashion. I still don't have a phone line in my house, hence no internet connection, so communication with the outside world is really slow right now. But to be unable to reciprocate as I would like to, makes me appreciate your friendship all the more.
Missing you all,
Elisabeth
Today is Saturday, and what a lovely day it is. Overcast and cool. I don't usually like autumn, being the forerunner of winter. But always before I've possessed some means of dominating summer's ruthless heat. Now I have no AC, no fan, and even open windows at night are taboo, because this is mosquito season. So, while I still stand in dread of the coming frigid temperatures, today's coolness is very welcome.
I write, not because I really have anything to say, but because I miss you all. Saturdays are slow and lazy, which is nice in some ways. But it does leave me with a lot of unoccupied time on my hands. Mom is sending me two boxes of books, which I expect to get any time now. I look forward to that.
Meanwhile I continue to plod doggedly along. But perhaps the words 'plod' and 'dogged' are too arduous. I have, after all, been back at it for only two weeks. Maybe I should save that expression for some five or six months down the road, where it may be more applicable, and be content at present to 'plunge indomitably forward.'
Ah yes, that's much more apt! When I picture a man standing to take an indomitable plunge, I can see fire burning in his eyes, and can feel the charge of electricity coursing through his body. That same thrill of vigorous life has been my experience since being back in Korea. I love to wake up every morning. I love to breath, and to flex my fingers, and to shiver with delight at God's all-ness. I love to sing to myself, and to wait for the traffic light to turn green, and to watch the sky grow dark every evening. I love all the wonder of feeling and thinking and breathing and doing that comes with being alive.
I picked up a bug, while in China, that I just don't seem to be able to shake. This morning my head was feeling particularly uncomfortable. But later, after school, I slept for two and a half hours, and hopefully the rest will help me to be able to fight whatever this is that's taking me out.
I had my first dream in Korean. Yay! Well, maybe it wasn't really in Korean, but I dreamt I was studying, and through the whole dream all of my hundreds of vocabulary words and phrases were shooting themselves through my mind, over and over and over and over again. It was actually kind of stressful, but hey! If I can sleep and learn at the same time, I'll be the last to complain.
I really love the challenge of learning Korean. Studying this language stretches my mind. It focuses my energy. It tantalizes and teases, laughing at my efforts. It dances and skips just out of reach. But someday I shall get the better of it, and I love to hope for that time.
I appreciate my language teachers, too. Last year, I took one level at Ewha, and there's no comparison between my present experience and that. The Sogang teachers enjoy their job and want us to learn, and the program here is really student friendly. Lots of speaking/listening time, which is what I need more than anything. My strong points are reading and writing, but the oral skills just kill me. I feel, though, like I'm finally breaking through that. It's still a challenge, and often frustrating, but I'm on the up-hill, and that excites me.
My back has been aching lately. It's the same old story, from when I fell on the ice several years ago, in New Hampshire. It hurts especially when I sit for long periods of time, so three hours in the morning during class, and two or three hours of study in the afternoon leaves me with a sharp pain between my shoulders that sometimes goes away quickly, but other times lasts for days. So please be praying for me.
I'd like to thank you again for your emails. I'm sorry that I've been so bad about responding in a timely fashion. I still don't have a phone line in my house, hence no internet connection, so communication with the outside world is really slow right now. But to be unable to reciprocate as I would like to, makes me appreciate your friendship all the more.
Missing you all,
Elisabeth
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Domestic Humdrum
Dear Family,
Two hours ago I very much wanted to sit down and write to you all. Instead, I dutifully forced myself to memorize Korean vocab. Now that I've finished with that, and have a few free minutes, I want to do nothing more than to lie down, shut my eyes, and turn my mind off.
Last night was the first night I spent in my little home. It was also the first night that I've been alone since leaving the States. I had forgotten how very quiet and lonesome a room can be, with no one else to break the silence.
I had also forgotten how very close God draws in the stillness.
It's been a difficult week. Every morning I raise early to get some time with God. Those few hours before ten o' clock are the most relaxed time of day for me. The remaining twelve hours I simply walk through one step at a time.
Classes began on Monday, and are so far pretty easy. I've familiarized myself with the contents of the workbook we're now using, so I don't feel like my mind is frantically grasping at simple concepts. That is a feeling which I am, unfortunately, all too familiar with. The only difficult part of school, so far, is the vocabulary memorization. They tell me that the grammar gets more complicated at the levels progress, but that doesn't intimidate me. I like puzzles, and language is like that for me. It's a mental challenge to wrestle with. But vocabulary is just drudgery, and I have a really hard time remembering which crazy sounds belong to what concepts.
After school I come directly home, and do what I can to beautify my very unbeautiful house. Hours of sorting, and cleaning, and unpacking have left me with something resembling a comfortable home. Yesterday I bought myself a fridge, washer, bed, wardrobe, and desk from a English teacher who's heading back to the states. It makes me happy to finally be settling in.
I still have to clean the kitchen and bathroom. That's going to be a big job, and I'll probably tackle it tomorrow. The previous renter must have been a southern deep-fryer, because the entire kitchen, from ceiling to floor, is bespattered with grease. I'm going to have to pull out the stove, cupboards, and sink to scrub the yellow walls behind them back to their natural blue color.
Actually, yesterday I wasn't very enthusiastic about the kitchen, at all. Except that's describing my feelings mildly. To begin with, the entrance to the kitchen is barely as wide as I am across the shoulders, and not nearly as tall. It looks as thought it was built for a dwarf, and I've lost count of the number of times I've turned and smacked my head into the frame. The bright yellow linoleum is blotched and stained beyond repair, and the cupboards, once sky blue, are now a faded, nondescript muddy color. And smack in the middle of the room, taking up at least a quarter of the floor space, stands a deep, electric blue washing machine. Add to that a rust stained gas range, a small, aluminum sink, the cord hanging from a single florescent light, and rust colored gas and water pipes snaking their lugubrious ways across the walls, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what that particular room looks like.
As I lay awake last night, I chided myself for being disgruntled, and determined that, if initiative, creativity, and resourceful energy can turn a dreary kitchen into an artistic cubby hole, then I shall try my hand at all three. As soon as I get the time, I'll set to work, and see if I can't achieve something with a little flair.
Wow. That was half a page of unexceptional, domestic humdrum. My apologies! Unfortunately, there's not much else to write of. I hit the ground running, when I landed on Korean soil, but so far the race has involved nothing more than school, domesticity and, when I get the chance, an occasional meal.
I did want to let you know, though, that I've been so blessed by the all emails that you've sent! I wish I could somehow convey how much it means to me when you send one or two sentences just to let me know that I'm in your thoughts and prayers. I usually check my email in the morning, and those notes that I receive help to set the pace for the entire day. They really make all the difference between the feelings of close camaraderie and absolute aloneness.
I pray for God's protection and guidance over you. Please continue to come before Him boldly and unceasingly on my behalf,
Elisabeth
Two hours ago I very much wanted to sit down and write to you all. Instead, I dutifully forced myself to memorize Korean vocab. Now that I've finished with that, and have a few free minutes, I want to do nothing more than to lie down, shut my eyes, and turn my mind off.
Last night was the first night I spent in my little home. It was also the first night that I've been alone since leaving the States. I had forgotten how very quiet and lonesome a room can be, with no one else to break the silence.
I had also forgotten how very close God draws in the stillness.
It's been a difficult week. Every morning I raise early to get some time with God. Those few hours before ten o' clock are the most relaxed time of day for me. The remaining twelve hours I simply walk through one step at a time.
Classes began on Monday, and are so far pretty easy. I've familiarized myself with the contents of the workbook we're now using, so I don't feel like my mind is frantically grasping at simple concepts. That is a feeling which I am, unfortunately, all too familiar with. The only difficult part of school, so far, is the vocabulary memorization. They tell me that the grammar gets more complicated at the levels progress, but that doesn't intimidate me. I like puzzles, and language is like that for me. It's a mental challenge to wrestle with. But vocabulary is just drudgery, and I have a really hard time remembering which crazy sounds belong to what concepts.
After school I come directly home, and do what I can to beautify my very unbeautiful house. Hours of sorting, and cleaning, and unpacking have left me with something resembling a comfortable home. Yesterday I bought myself a fridge, washer, bed, wardrobe, and desk from a English teacher who's heading back to the states. It makes me happy to finally be settling in.
I still have to clean the kitchen and bathroom. That's going to be a big job, and I'll probably tackle it tomorrow. The previous renter must have been a southern deep-fryer, because the entire kitchen, from ceiling to floor, is bespattered with grease. I'm going to have to pull out the stove, cupboards, and sink to scrub the yellow walls behind them back to their natural blue color.
Actually, yesterday I wasn't very enthusiastic about the kitchen, at all. Except that's describing my feelings mildly. To begin with, the entrance to the kitchen is barely as wide as I am across the shoulders, and not nearly as tall. It looks as thought it was built for a dwarf, and I've lost count of the number of times I've turned and smacked my head into the frame. The bright yellow linoleum is blotched and stained beyond repair, and the cupboards, once sky blue, are now a faded, nondescript muddy color. And smack in the middle of the room, taking up at least a quarter of the floor space, stands a deep, electric blue washing machine. Add to that a rust stained gas range, a small, aluminum sink, the cord hanging from a single florescent light, and rust colored gas and water pipes snaking their lugubrious ways across the walls, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what that particular room looks like.
As I lay awake last night, I chided myself for being disgruntled, and determined that, if initiative, creativity, and resourceful energy can turn a dreary kitchen into an artistic cubby hole, then I shall try my hand at all three. As soon as I get the time, I'll set to work, and see if I can't achieve something with a little flair.
Wow. That was half a page of unexceptional, domestic humdrum. My apologies! Unfortunately, there's not much else to write of. I hit the ground running, when I landed on Korean soil, but so far the race has involved nothing more than school, domesticity and, when I get the chance, an occasional meal.
I did want to let you know, though, that I've been so blessed by the all emails that you've sent! I wish I could somehow convey how much it means to me when you send one or two sentences just to let me know that I'm in your thoughts and prayers. I usually check my email in the morning, and those notes that I receive help to set the pace for the entire day. They really make all the difference between the feelings of close camaraderie and absolute aloneness.
I pray for God's protection and guidance over you. Please continue to come before Him boldly and unceasingly on my behalf,
Elisabeth
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Bleach and a Bucket
Dear Family,
Today was a long one. After church this morning, I headed over to my apartment, armed with bleach and a bucket. I was amazed at how much dirtier the place was that I had supposed. It seemed like the longer I scrubbed, the dirtier it got, until my fingers were raw and I completely wore a hole through one of the rags I was using.
Several grueling hours into the afternoon, a little old man stepped through the door, "Hangungmal issayo? Do you speak Korean?"
"Only a little." I replied.
"It's okay, I speak English." He introduced himself as my landlady's brother-in-law, and informed me that he had come to fix the toilet.
While he replaced all the toilet parts, inside and out, we chatted. I was glad for the brake, and he was happy to practice his English while spinning stories of his adventurous younger years.
My landlady, a little, eighty year old ajumah, came by a few minutes later to see how I was progressing with my work. She nodded, smiled, and jabbered away in Korean. I regularly inserted a comprehensive, 'Nae' at what I hopped were appropriate intervals. She seemed satisfied, and soon tottered away only to return a few minutes later with a vitamin yogurt drink for me. I laughed, thanked her kindly, and went back to work.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to finish the kitchen and the bathroom, and then I'll be ready to move in. Yay!
I don't have time to write more, but know that you're loved,
Elisabeth
Today was a long one. After church this morning, I headed over to my apartment, armed with bleach and a bucket. I was amazed at how much dirtier the place was that I had supposed. It seemed like the longer I scrubbed, the dirtier it got, until my fingers were raw and I completely wore a hole through one of the rags I was using.
Several grueling hours into the afternoon, a little old man stepped through the door, "Hangungmal issayo? Do you speak Korean?"
"Only a little." I replied.
"It's okay, I speak English." He introduced himself as my landlady's brother-in-law, and informed me that he had come to fix the toilet.
While he replaced all the toilet parts, inside and out, we chatted. I was glad for the brake, and he was happy to practice his English while spinning stories of his adventurous younger years.
My landlady, a little, eighty year old ajumah, came by a few minutes later to see how I was progressing with my work. She nodded, smiled, and jabbered away in Korean. I regularly inserted a comprehensive, 'Nae' at what I hopped were appropriate intervals. She seemed satisfied, and soon tottered away only to return a few minutes later with a vitamin yogurt drink for me. I laughed, thanked her kindly, and went back to work.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to finish the kitchen and the bathroom, and then I'll be ready to move in. Yay!
I don't have time to write more, but know that you're loved,
Elisabeth
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Back Home
Very Dear Family,
I'm back in Korea, and it's so good to be home! Who would have thought that I'd ever be able to call it 'home' with real sincerity?
My time in China was amazing. Because of the canceled NK tour, I was the only person who decided to go ahead and go up to China instead. Being last minute, everything was a little bit disorganized, which my friends there felt badly about. From my perspective, however, it was great. I think I was able to get a much better picture of how things work there, and of the different projects and relationships that the foreigners in that area have going, than I would have if my days and hours had been more planned, and filled in with exciting things to do and see. As it was, I was able to meet a lot of people, and just tag along and watch them relate and work.
It was a good time to focus, too, and to remember why I'm here. A lot of westerners moved into that area after having studied Korean for only a few months, and every one of them voiced their regret at not having learned Korean more fluently before moving up to China. I was encouraged to plough through school, and to not let myself get distracted by other opportunities before I'm well prepared. That was a good reminder, and I'm eager to start studying Korean again.
While I was there, I was taken up to Tumen, a little border city. We walked around, and had a great view of the city and some people on the other side of the river. Then we went out onto the river on a long, narrow log raft. A little Chinese man stood at the back with a long river pole, and pushed us up stream, just four feet off the bank of NK. It was a great experience, with water lapping at our feet, through the gaps in the unsteady raft, and tall reeds on the shore just out of reach.
I flew to Beijing three nights ago, and the next morning took off for Seoul.
Coming out of the airport, I caught a bus to an area close to my destination. I was dropped of in front of an elaborate, black-glass hotel, with limos, porters, the whole nine yards…far out of my league.
"Can I take your bags in?" asked a pill-capped boy.
"No, no!" I hastily replied. "Get me a taxi, please."
I asked the driver to take me to Naksapyeong Station, and from there walked uphill with two 60lb suitcases, a backpack, and my carry-on, until I found a pay phone.
Brenda came down to pick me up, and brought me back to her apartment where I'll stay until I have a place to move into.
Yesterday morning I registered with Sogang, and then spent the rest of the day wandering on foot around Sinchon with Titus and Ruth looking for an apartment. Toward evening I found a place that I like, within walking distance from the university, very reasonably priced. Of course, it was priced according to its condition. It'll need a lot of elbow grease and the basic appliances before I can move in. But hopefully I'll get some of that done this weekend. I'd like to be moved in before school starts on Monday. That is, provided the place is still available when I go back this afternoon to pay for it. Apartments are snatched up like hot cakes in this area.
Like I said, it's really good to be back. Contrasted with my ten days in China, where everything was foreign and crazy, Seoul is warmly familiar and welcoming. And all I can think over and over again is, "God is so good to me!"
Thank you so much for holding me up in prayer over these last two weeks. God's hand has been with me in a remarkable way.
Elisabeth
I'm back in Korea, and it's so good to be home! Who would have thought that I'd ever be able to call it 'home' with real sincerity?
My time in China was amazing. Because of the canceled NK tour, I was the only person who decided to go ahead and go up to China instead. Being last minute, everything was a little bit disorganized, which my friends there felt badly about. From my perspective, however, it was great. I think I was able to get a much better picture of how things work there, and of the different projects and relationships that the foreigners in that area have going, than I would have if my days and hours had been more planned, and filled in with exciting things to do and see. As it was, I was able to meet a lot of people, and just tag along and watch them relate and work.
It was a good time to focus, too, and to remember why I'm here. A lot of westerners moved into that area after having studied Korean for only a few months, and every one of them voiced their regret at not having learned Korean more fluently before moving up to China. I was encouraged to plough through school, and to not let myself get distracted by other opportunities before I'm well prepared. That was a good reminder, and I'm eager to start studying Korean again.
While I was there, I was taken up to Tumen, a little border city. We walked around, and had a great view of the city and some people on the other side of the river. Then we went out onto the river on a long, narrow log raft. A little Chinese man stood at the back with a long river pole, and pushed us up stream, just four feet off the bank of NK. It was a great experience, with water lapping at our feet, through the gaps in the unsteady raft, and tall reeds on the shore just out of reach.
I flew to Beijing three nights ago, and the next morning took off for Seoul.
Coming out of the airport, I caught a bus to an area close to my destination. I was dropped of in front of an elaborate, black-glass hotel, with limos, porters, the whole nine yards…far out of my league.
"Can I take your bags in?" asked a pill-capped boy.
"No, no!" I hastily replied. "Get me a taxi, please."
I asked the driver to take me to Naksapyeong Station, and from there walked uphill with two 60lb suitcases, a backpack, and my carry-on, until I found a pay phone.
Brenda came down to pick me up, and brought me back to her apartment where I'll stay until I have a place to move into.
Yesterday morning I registered with Sogang, and then spent the rest of the day wandering on foot around Sinchon with Titus and Ruth looking for an apartment. Toward evening I found a place that I like, within walking distance from the university, very reasonably priced. Of course, it was priced according to its condition. It'll need a lot of elbow grease and the basic appliances before I can move in. But hopefully I'll get some of that done this weekend. I'd like to be moved in before school starts on Monday. That is, provided the place is still available when I go back this afternoon to pay for it. Apartments are snatched up like hot cakes in this area.
Like I said, it's really good to be back. Contrasted with my ten days in China, where everything was foreign and crazy, Seoul is warmly familiar and welcoming. And all I can think over and over again is, "God is so good to me!"
Thank you so much for holding me up in prayer over these last two weeks. God's hand has been with me in a remarkable way.
Elisabeth
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Safe 'n Sound
And here I am in Yanji. Thank you, my family, for your many thoughts.
As the train drew near, Yanji station was announced in mutilated English, so I had time enough to gather my wits and my belongings, and make a hasty exit.
I was exhausted and disoriented enough that most of that day remains a blur. Mike introduced me to a few of his own friends, and together they contrived (quite deliberately) to keep me away from home and sleep until around 8:00. Miserable as it was at the time, I was grateful for it later, because that night I slept like the dead. The only thing that really stands out in my mind, was crossing streets. It was insane. At first I was able to cope with being nearly run down several times in succession. But as the evening wore on, and I became more disoriented, my fried mind blew a socket whenever we came to an intersection, and it felt as though I was flying in every direction at once, as maniacal vehicles careened past and around me in the dark, often with only inches to spare. My head snapped around, but it didn't seem to matter which way I looked, there was always a worse fate over the other shoulder. The 'Intersection of Death' was especially intense, and I came, then, as near as I ever have to panicking.
That night I slept soundly, and woke up the next morning pretty rested. Which was fortunate, because at 5:00 AM a group of us took off for Baekdu Mountain. That was a beautiful experience. After a five hour drive in a rickety bus, we hiked for one or two hours up the lovely, mellow green mountain, to a waterfall. We were to have hiked up the fall, but that trail was closed due to rock slides. So we hired a SUV, instead, and drove to the very top of the mountain, from where we had a breathtaking view of the glassy, water-filled crater at it's center. About two thirds of the crater is actually in NK. So standing on top of the world, over a magnificent scope, so close to the land of my people, was exhilarating.
I could write of more, but I know how quickly an email can get very long, so I'll stop here. I mostly just wanted to let you know that I got here safely, and to thank you for thinking of me.
Elisabeth
As the train drew near, Yanji station was announced in mutilated English, so I had time enough to gather my wits and my belongings, and make a hasty exit.
I was exhausted and disoriented enough that most of that day remains a blur. Mike introduced me to a few of his own friends, and together they contrived (quite deliberately) to keep me away from home and sleep until around 8:00. Miserable as it was at the time, I was grateful for it later, because that night I slept like the dead. The only thing that really stands out in my mind, was crossing streets. It was insane. At first I was able to cope with being nearly run down several times in succession. But as the evening wore on, and I became more disoriented, my fried mind blew a socket whenever we came to an intersection, and it felt as though I was flying in every direction at once, as maniacal vehicles careened past and around me in the dark, often with only inches to spare. My head snapped around, but it didn't seem to matter which way I looked, there was always a worse fate over the other shoulder. The 'Intersection of Death' was especially intense, and I came, then, as near as I ever have to panicking.
That night I slept soundly, and woke up the next morning pretty rested. Which was fortunate, because at 5:00 AM a group of us took off for Baekdu Mountain. That was a beautiful experience. After a five hour drive in a rickety bus, we hiked for one or two hours up the lovely, mellow green mountain, to a waterfall. We were to have hiked up the fall, but that trail was closed due to rock slides. So we hired a SUV, instead, and drove to the very top of the mountain, from where we had a breathtaking view of the glassy, water-filled crater at it's center. About two thirds of the crater is actually in NK. So standing on top of the world, over a magnificent scope, so close to the land of my people, was exhilarating.
I could write of more, but I know how quickly an email can get very long, so I'll stop here. I mostly just wanted to let you know that I got here safely, and to thank you for thinking of me.
Elisabeth
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