Dear Family,
It had been my intention to write last weekend, but I was hindered by an unfortunate cold. Along with correspondence, school has suffered a bit, too. I attempted to participate, and at least showed my face in class every day but Monday. But gallant attempts notwithstanding, an exploding head and raw throat forced me to leave school early every day. My teachers were unhappy, because people will be sick, sometimes, but what has that to say to anything??
Now, if I had been emotionally upset, if I had felt unhappy or depressed, my absence would have been much more acceptable. Koreans are remarkably feelings-sensitive, and place a great deal amount of stress on the importance keeping them buoyant. One’s kibun (mood, or state of mind) is, to quote ‘The Korean’ by Michael Breen, “of prime importance. Not only does feeling good make you feel good, but it’s also better for your health.” So it didn’t really surprise me that the first question asked when I showed my face again after a long absence was, “maeumae nappayo? - Are your feelings bad?”
I heartily enjoy my Asian classmates. There are four tables in every class room. I’m not really sure why or how it happens, but somehow students tend to congregate at each table, either by age or by nationality. Tables are very loose-knit, intermingling freely with everyone else, while still maintaining an indefinite, almost imperceptible, special-bond amongst table-mates. Last semester, we western students began at the same table, but before the end of the first week I had migrated over to the Japanese table (I’m still not quite sure how that happened), and I found myself, before many days, one of their ‘group’ (though I hesitate to use such an uncompromising word). I was surprised to find that I felt remarkably more at my ease amongst them than I had with the Canadians and Americans, but didn’t give it much thought. This semester it’s the same story over again, only this time it’s the Chinese students with whom I rub shoulders. We have a great time together laughing and chatting, and I’m amazed at how instantly I feel at my ease in their midst. I hang out a lot with westerners outside of class, and had begun to worry that I’m not letting myself adjust properly to eastern society. But realizing that, when I’m in a group of both westerners and Asians (either in or out of class), I generally prefer to mingle with the Asian crowd, my nagging doubts were stilled.
A week ago, March 14th, was White Day. White Day is the counterpart of Red Day, Feb 14th (known to the western world as Valentines Day). On Red Day tradition demands that a girl buys something sweet and thoughtful for her man; and on White Day, the guy for his girl. Rose Day will be next month, again on the 14th, and that day is reserved for us singles: friends exchange roses. Black Day, the 14th of May, is set aside for those unfortunates who have neither significant other nor friend, and on this day anyone who received nothing on any of the above holidays is expected to eat Ja Jang Myun, a Chinese dish of noodles and black sauce. Pretty tasty, actually.
For these last six months, I’ve hopped from church to church, looking for something that would challenge and encourage me. Unfortunately, the churches that I’ve been to in Seoul (as in many places, I suppose) seem to lack any real spiritual life. I finally settled on Seoul Union, which meets quite near my house. It’s the only church that I’ve been to in Seoul (and I’ve been to many!!) whose members are mostly good, solid families. A lot of churches cater to young, single adults, which is fine in it’s place. Since I only ever hang out with people my age, it’s nice to be around families with kids, and to have older Christians in my life. So, in hopes of getting to know the people there better, I decided, a month ago, to make Seoul Union my regular place of worship. Unfortunately, the same Sunday that I began regularly attending there, they decided to get some small groups started. So now, directly after service, we’re all is split up according to age, and moved into our own rooms for fellowship and discussions. I can see the point of it, but for me it was a disappointment, because now there’s no real way for me to interact with anyone outside of my own age group, and so my major reason for going there is now nullified. But I find that, if nothing else, I can use church attendance as a declaration to others of where I stand.
Often, as class begins of a Monday, our teachers will ask us what we did over the weekend. When the question gets to me, I’ll describe my Saturday then say,
“And on Sunday I went to church.”
I find that, if I announce that right at the very beginning of the semester, it rather paves the way for me to talk about Christianity later. My class mates know where I stand, and I have quashed all my natural inclination to remain neutrally silent on the matter at the very beginning. In a class full of students from all around the world, my beliefs often raise curiosity. Our common language being Korean, we are none of us fluent enough, yet, to be able to discuss religion in depth, but that will come with time. And meanwhile, most know enough of the basics of Christianity to be able to make the association between my lifestyle and my beliefs.
The Friday night small group that I attend (really my main source of fellowship) meets in the Sinchon area, in a little orange coffee shop called (for some indefinite reason)The Seven Monkeys. There’s a bus that will take me from my front door and drop me right out front, but I prefer to walk. At a spanking pace, it takes about a half an hour. When I stroll, I give myself 45 minutes. Since I always study late on Fridays (so that I can take Saturday off), I only ever give myself time for a fast walk. In the winter time that’s good, because it kept me from freezing. Come summer, it will be a little more wilting. Anyways, we’ve begun reading Philip Yancey’s ‘What’s so Amazing About Grace?’ We haven’t gotten past the first two chapters yet, but it’s provided some good discussions so far, and I look forward to seeing where it will go.
Two weeks ago I wrote in my journal,
“I think that I have felt a little bit discouraged lately. It’s difficult to keep on working enthusiastically toward hazy goals. And when my progress seems so slow, and my way so fraught with difficulties, it’s tempting to wonder if God really did lead me here, of if I’m just here...just because...” It is hard to keep my head up, and a smile on my face – so very alone.
But then I heard a bird sing for the first time since winter descended in all its lofty coldness, and my heart thrilled in response. Every spring birds sing again. Every summer the earth is warm. Leaves fall and crackle underfoot every autumn, and every winter the snow is as white as the last. How is it that the work of God never looses its novelty? That its beauty is not diminished by repetition? How is it that a budding flower causes my heart to sing, as though I had not seen a hundred before it and will not see a hundred again? How can this morning’s sunrise be more beautiful than the last, and tomorrow’s be more beautiful still? Why does my soul exult at another gust of wind? Why do the eternal stars calm my mind? Why does sunshine relax me, or the splash of cold water make my body tingle, or the feeling of soft, green grass under-foot make me want to run and dance and sing, all as though I were experiencing these pleasures for the very first time? In some inexplicable way the touch of God transforms the ordinary into the eternal, and my eternal soul resonates in response.
So God reminded me that His work in His time will never be insipid. I can be certain that the work He is doing in and through my life will take on, similarly, a freshness and a daily beauty. An eternality. And my heart was calm again.
Thank you for listening to my ramblings. Please continue to pray for me...I need the presence and strength of God more than ever before,
Elisabeth
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
He will Have His way
Naomi,
I've a plane ticket for the 10th of June. I don't know if that's my departure date, arrival date, or (since I'll be crossing the international date line) both. My return flight is set for August 20th, but that's a changeable ticket, so that date is just a tentative guess.
Okay, lets see how much of the history of this last week I can fit into this email, before three o'clock.
Up until just a week ago (the 20th, to be exact), I had been planning, after some prayer (thought none of it very whole-hearted, you know...I think I was more running my already-plans before God, than asking Him what He wanted me to do), on definitely coming home, this summer.
Last Wednesday (did you know that I hate Wednesdays? Always have.) Mom sent me an email, letting me know how much I had in my CD acct. at Sterling. I was startled to find that the CD contained about $8000 less than I'd supposed. Immediately I began looking through and adding up how much I've spent so far, and (based on that) how much more I'll need to complete all six levels at Sogang. As it turned out, even if I decided not to come home, I would only have enough to get through level five. Coming home would cut that down to level four. Which, of course, threw all my plans into absolute confusion.
My first reaction was to cut down on every expense not absolutely essential. Since I already live frugally, the only thing else to do was to turn off my heat and cancel my internet connection (which former I did a week ago, and which latter I'll do this afternoon). Also, of course, I called home, and told them not to be expecting me.
But, even though I didn't have any idea of really coming back, at that point, I found that I couldn't get it out of my heart. I began to pray about it more seriously, and for this last week have been under more pressure and prey to more anxiety than I have since being in Korea this second time.
After a few days of feckless indecision, I wrote an email (at Beka's suggestion, bless her!) to the elders at Camas, which I also forwarded to Sharri and to Dad. In it I stated some of the pros (recuperation, refocus, and preparation for another nine months, as well as the opportunity to get to know the Camas Church better) and cons (lack of resources) of coming home, ending with,
"While I was praying about it, yesterday, it occurred to me that I just don't know enough to be able to make a wise decision. Everything is uncertainty and supposition, and I'm a little bit afraid that my own desires will get in the way of me hearing God clearly, or recognizing what He wants me to do in this case."
Travis and Tim both wrote back, advising me (for their various reasons) to come back home. I felt that I should wait for Dad's reply, as well, before making a final decision. If he agreed with Travis and Tim, considering how unlikely a response that would be, I should know for certain that I ought to plan the trip. As it turned out, his response, after praying about it was, that he felt that the decision needed to be between me and God, as he felt too far removed from the situation to be able to make give very definite advice.
As I relate these circumstances, Sister, I've only, so far, touched on actions and thought process. You must be aware, I know, that my emotions were neither so orderly nor so under control. There was so much at stake, and I felt that the wrong decision would be detrimental. I was aware that God is able (and does) take the choices that I make, and turn them for His glory, but my heart was not there. All my wisdom urged me to follow the advice of those more mature in judgment than I. But that same wisdom screamed at me that to throw a semester of Korean to the wind was foolishness beyond permission.
After wrestling, with no clarity, for days, I no longer even wanted to come home. You know how much I've put into being able to learn Korean. You know how important it is to me, and how much I've given up, how much pleasure and comfort I've put aside, in order to pursue what I believe with all my heart God has called me to do. To leave the language program half way through, is not merely giving up fluency in Korean, but everything that I've worked toward and thrown myself into for these last two years, and more. Every sacrifice that I've made in the way of loneliness, frugality, discomfort. Failure at that which I'm persuaded God has set before me would be the price I must pay for two months in Oregon. The thought of such an exchange left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I was, through all this, persuaded that God could, and would provide for me, by whatever means, if He asked me to go home. But I was in no way certain that He would do so, if I chose to go back without His sanction, and this left my heart in no little anxiety, because still I hadn't heard from God.
The ticket reservation that I had made, while waiting for direction, was to expire by the weekend, so (since I was communicating with my travel agent via email and everything was slower) I needed now to make my decision immediately.
At this point, I felt that, where my own wisdom failed, it would be foolish to ignore the advise of those whom I've asked to take some rule of authority in my life. As I had no clearer direction for myself, there seemed nothing else to do, but come home.
I decided to pray about it one more time, and then (as a decision must be made), simply choose one of the two options at random. So I got on my knees, and reminded God of His promise, in James 1:5, to give wisdom to the seeker. Immediately, as clearly as if spoken verbally, I heard, "It is wisdom to trust in Me." Simultaneously with those words, came the very clear understanding that my decision wasn't one of circumstance, but one of trust. If I chose to stay here, I would be choosing to trust in my frugality, my resources, to make it as far in Korean as possible. If, on the other hand, I chose to go home, I would be placing myself in the most vulnerable place imaginable, where the above were concerned, and leaving myself nothing on this earth to trust, but God Himself. And in that split second, my decision was made.
Oddly, that decision didn't bring a sense of peace, as I had expected it to. I contacted my travel agent and told her to purchase my ticket, then let everyone concerned know that they would see me in June. But my heart was despondent, and it was all I could do, through the whole of yesterday, to hold back tears that would come, and to pursue my normal activities. I was tired and headachy and cross, and decided this morning that, rather than spend another day so pointlessly dejected, I would pray again, and not leave God's presence until my heart had been calmed by Him.
At first I couldn't stay focused at all. For about an hour or so, my mind wandered pitifully, and at random, until finally God brought to my mind those beautiful verses in Mat 6 about God clothing the lilies of the field, and making provision for the birds. From there, I explored other verses about God's goodness and faithfulness, until I came to Psalm 146:5-6 "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God: Which made heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that therein is: Which keepeth truth for ever."
Sister, is there any comparison to the gentle goodness of God? Remarkable Goodness displayed in His desire to wrest all other dependencies from me. I don't, and probably never will, understand why He takes such trouble to shape and form my life. Why He has so determined to have all my heart, and has diligently and minutely directed and prepared my way. And Remarkable Gentleness displayed in the method He has chosen for accomplishing His work. In what more protective, sustaining way can He have moved than to bring me home, to people who will love, and challenge, and support me? What way more gracious, than to allow me the comfort, for a season, of those dearest to my heart? How carefully He must have worked to bring about this circumstance, which will at once both remove me from my dependencies and self-conceit, all the while coddling my spirit.
The understanding of all this allowed me, finally, the relief of tears, and I find my heart light, today, for the first time in many days.
To conclude: I will come home this summer, and when I get back to Korea, only expect to take one more semester at Sogang. Where God will move me from there is an absolute blank. If He provides, financially, for me to continue, I will be very glad in that. If He ask me drop out of school, He'll probably have to wrestle with me again, but I know He will have His way, because He is determined to have me. All I can count on, for certain, is that He will lead in an entirely unpredictable, and astoundingly brilliant way, so I need not concern myself, at this point, with pointless speculation.
This has ended up being much longer than I had intended. But I don't know how to shorten it, and still include everything. And, somehow, I'm persuaded you won't mind the detail. ^^
I love you, and am wholeheartedly looking forward to seeing you in June!!
Jonny
I've a plane ticket for the 10th of June. I don't know if that's my departure date, arrival date, or (since I'll be crossing the international date line) both. My return flight is set for August 20th, but that's a changeable ticket, so that date is just a tentative guess.
Okay, lets see how much of the history of this last week I can fit into this email, before three o'clock.
Up until just a week ago (the 20th, to be exact), I had been planning, after some prayer (thought none of it very whole-hearted, you know...I think I was more running my already-plans before God, than asking Him what He wanted me to do), on definitely coming home, this summer.
Last Wednesday (did you know that I hate Wednesdays? Always have.) Mom sent me an email, letting me know how much I had in my CD acct. at Sterling. I was startled to find that the CD contained about $8000 less than I'd supposed. Immediately I began looking through and adding up how much I've spent so far, and (based on that) how much more I'll need to complete all six levels at Sogang. As it turned out, even if I decided not to come home, I would only have enough to get through level five. Coming home would cut that down to level four. Which, of course, threw all my plans into absolute confusion.
My first reaction was to cut down on every expense not absolutely essential. Since I already live frugally, the only thing else to do was to turn off my heat and cancel my internet connection (which former I did a week ago, and which latter I'll do this afternoon). Also, of course, I called home, and told them not to be expecting me.
But, even though I didn't have any idea of really coming back, at that point, I found that I couldn't get it out of my heart. I began to pray about it more seriously, and for this last week have been under more pressure and prey to more anxiety than I have since being in Korea this second time.
After a few days of feckless indecision, I wrote an email (at Beka's suggestion, bless her!) to the elders at Camas, which I also forwarded to Sharri and to Dad. In it I stated some of the pros (recuperation, refocus, and preparation for another nine months, as well as the opportunity to get to know the Camas Church better) and cons (lack of resources) of coming home, ending with,
"While I was praying about it, yesterday, it occurred to me that I just don't know enough to be able to make a wise decision. Everything is uncertainty and supposition, and I'm a little bit afraid that my own desires will get in the way of me hearing God clearly, or recognizing what He wants me to do in this case."
Travis and Tim both wrote back, advising me (for their various reasons) to come back home. I felt that I should wait for Dad's reply, as well, before making a final decision. If he agreed with Travis and Tim, considering how unlikely a response that would be, I should know for certain that I ought to plan the trip. As it turned out, his response, after praying about it was, that he felt that the decision needed to be between me and God, as he felt too far removed from the situation to be able to make give very definite advice.
As I relate these circumstances, Sister, I've only, so far, touched on actions and thought process. You must be aware, I know, that my emotions were neither so orderly nor so under control. There was so much at stake, and I felt that the wrong decision would be detrimental. I was aware that God is able (and does) take the choices that I make, and turn them for His glory, but my heart was not there. All my wisdom urged me to follow the advice of those more mature in judgment than I. But that same wisdom screamed at me that to throw a semester of Korean to the wind was foolishness beyond permission.
After wrestling, with no clarity, for days, I no longer even wanted to come home. You know how much I've put into being able to learn Korean. You know how important it is to me, and how much I've given up, how much pleasure and comfort I've put aside, in order to pursue what I believe with all my heart God has called me to do. To leave the language program half way through, is not merely giving up fluency in Korean, but everything that I've worked toward and thrown myself into for these last two years, and more. Every sacrifice that I've made in the way of loneliness, frugality, discomfort. Failure at that which I'm persuaded God has set before me would be the price I must pay for two months in Oregon. The thought of such an exchange left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I was, through all this, persuaded that God could, and would provide for me, by whatever means, if He asked me to go home. But I was in no way certain that He would do so, if I chose to go back without His sanction, and this left my heart in no little anxiety, because still I hadn't heard from God.
The ticket reservation that I had made, while waiting for direction, was to expire by the weekend, so (since I was communicating with my travel agent via email and everything was slower) I needed now to make my decision immediately.
At this point, I felt that, where my own wisdom failed, it would be foolish to ignore the advise of those whom I've asked to take some rule of authority in my life. As I had no clearer direction for myself, there seemed nothing else to do, but come home.
I decided to pray about it one more time, and then (as a decision must be made), simply choose one of the two options at random. So I got on my knees, and reminded God of His promise, in James 1:5, to give wisdom to the seeker. Immediately, as clearly as if spoken verbally, I heard, "It is wisdom to trust in Me." Simultaneously with those words, came the very clear understanding that my decision wasn't one of circumstance, but one of trust. If I chose to stay here, I would be choosing to trust in my frugality, my resources, to make it as far in Korean as possible. If, on the other hand, I chose to go home, I would be placing myself in the most vulnerable place imaginable, where the above were concerned, and leaving myself nothing on this earth to trust, but God Himself. And in that split second, my decision was made.
Oddly, that decision didn't bring a sense of peace, as I had expected it to. I contacted my travel agent and told her to purchase my ticket, then let everyone concerned know that they would see me in June. But my heart was despondent, and it was all I could do, through the whole of yesterday, to hold back tears that would come, and to pursue my normal activities. I was tired and headachy and cross, and decided this morning that, rather than spend another day so pointlessly dejected, I would pray again, and not leave God's presence until my heart had been calmed by Him.
At first I couldn't stay focused at all. For about an hour or so, my mind wandered pitifully, and at random, until finally God brought to my mind those beautiful verses in Mat 6 about God clothing the lilies of the field, and making provision for the birds. From there, I explored other verses about God's goodness and faithfulness, until I came to Psalm 146:5-6 "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God: Which made heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that therein is: Which keepeth truth for ever."
Sister, is there any comparison to the gentle goodness of God? Remarkable Goodness displayed in His desire to wrest all other dependencies from me. I don't, and probably never will, understand why He takes such trouble to shape and form my life. Why He has so determined to have all my heart, and has diligently and minutely directed and prepared my way. And Remarkable Gentleness displayed in the method He has chosen for accomplishing His work. In what more protective, sustaining way can He have moved than to bring me home, to people who will love, and challenge, and support me? What way more gracious, than to allow me the comfort, for a season, of those dearest to my heart? How carefully He must have worked to bring about this circumstance, which will at once both remove me from my dependencies and self-conceit, all the while coddling my spirit.
The understanding of all this allowed me, finally, the relief of tears, and I find my heart light, today, for the first time in many days.
To conclude: I will come home this summer, and when I get back to Korea, only expect to take one more semester at Sogang. Where God will move me from there is an absolute blank. If He provides, financially, for me to continue, I will be very glad in that. If He ask me drop out of school, He'll probably have to wrestle with me again, but I know He will have His way, because He is determined to have me. All I can count on, for certain, is that He will lead in an entirely unpredictable, and astoundingly brilliant way, so I need not concern myself, at this point, with pointless speculation.
This has ended up being much longer than I had intended. But I don't know how to shorten it, and still include everything. And, somehow, I'm persuaded you won't mind the detail. ^^
I love you, and am wholeheartedly looking forward to seeing you in June!!
Jonny
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Little Bits and Pieces of my Life
Dear Family,
I hope you are all well!
As for myself, I’m enjoying a short break between semesters. Level 2 has risen, wrestled, and been defeated. One week from now level 3 will raise to the challenge, and attempt success where levels 1 and 2 have failed. That conquered, I will be half way through the language program. Which is baffling to realize!
Meanwhile, I’ve been teaching myself to write with my right hand. From writing so many hours of Korean vocabulary (the most effective way I’ve so far discovered of stimulating memorization), my left hand has begun to cramp and to be rather weak and shaky. I find that icing it for a few hours, after studying, helps a lot, but what a way to spend a cold winter evening! So now I’m training my other hand to obey me, and am happy to be able to report that my right-handed penmanship is becoming stronger and more readable each day.
My head, as well as my hand, is aching for relief, and as a means of clearing from it the cobwebs of Korean, a Chinese classmate and I have begun meeting, once a week, for Chinese lessons. I have been enjoying these heartily, and find them relaxing, since (both of us having busy schedules and full heads) we’re taking it pretty easy. I’ve been amused, however, by the two responses that I generally receive, when I tell my friends of it. In one camp, well wishers are concerned for my sanity, and caution me not to over do it. In the other, I’m unofficially classified ‘genius’, and wondered at from afar. So far, the most rational responses I’ve received have been from the Wilkes and Amy Horn, which is no real surprise, considering our relative situations.
Titus and Ruth: That sounds really good! Do you think we could do it with you?
Amy: Glad to hear about your Chinese lessons...that sounds like a blessing, and a good way to relax your head from Korean.
Namdaemun (Great South Gate), which was South Korea’s No.1 National Treasure (compliments to it having been built in the 1400’s), was set fire to, a few weeks ago, by a disgruntled citizen, who was dissatisfied about the outcome of a decade-old land dispute. It was a shame, and when I first heard news of it, I was floored. There has been so much destruction to Korea, over the years, by other countries, and so little of her history has been preserved, that this senseless damage really upset me. So I called Rebekah, who (having wandered with me through the streets and alleyways of that ungainly market which sprawls at it’s feet) could sympathize with my dismay, and after talking for a little while, felt quite better enough to apply my mind to other things.
There was another fire in this area, a few weeks ago. Standing cold and formidable on the hill behind my house, a public high school caught fire, and proceeded to be consumed. It was late in the afternoon, so there were no crowds of people in the halls, and the fire seemed to catch slowly enough to allow plenty of time for laggards to make good their escape. I was studying, and hadn’t heard the crowds gathering outside my house, from where there was a clear view of the action. Shouting men, and flashing lights aren’t out of the norm enough for them to really claim my attention, so I gave only half an ear, and wasn’t diverted until a siren screamed just outside my window. That surprised me, and throwing on my coat, I stepped on to the front step just in time to witness a fire engine backing up (apparently the driver hadn’t realized that my alley is something of a dead end) to the computer-generated tune of Fur Elise, in lieu of that more generally accepted series of beeps which one would expect to hear in association with the backing up of a large and cumbersome vehicle. My very intimate understanding of the Koreans’ love of bells, whistles and random tunes notwithstanding, this caught me off guard, and regardless of circumstances, I was hard put not to laugh at the absurdity of that pleasant melody warbling imperturbably forth, from such a vehicle and at such a time.
I’ve begun attending a small to medium sized church on the campus of nearby Yonsei University. My attendance is really more a matter of form, than otherwise, as it’s been difficult for me to find my niche among them. They’re trying to form a small group that will meet after services, which I’ll begin attending as a means of getting to know the people there better. Meanwhile, my main source of fellowship comes, rather, from two other small groups, organized by a different church, that meet in my area, one on Thursday evenings, and the other on Fridays. Outside of the time I spend with Titus and Ruth, these evenings are the highlight of my week, stimulating, creative, and challenging. And English. ^^
Yesterday and all last evening it snowed. I was going out to meet some friends, and my first reaction, as I stepped outside, was to reach for my umbrella in imitation of then native inhabitants of this country, to protect myself from becoming white with the world. Stopping myself, I gave a little laugh, left my pink umbrella on it’s accommodating hook, and put on a pair of black gloves instead. It was beautiful snow. It flitted about in perfectly symmetrically flakes, clinging to the bare limbs of the trees, and setting gently on the sidewalks and streets in little flurries. I held my hands up, exulting inside that something so small could have been fashioned be so perfectly. All evening it continued to fall, and I stopped near my house, on my way back home, and patted together a very little snow man (passers-by at first seemed concerned by this irregularity, but when they saw that it was just a foreigner, they exchanged comprehending glances and passed on), which I set on the curb, thinking all the while of Amy Horn, of course.
Well, this email makes up in length, if nothing else, what my last lacked. I enjoy telling you all little bits and pieces of my life on this side of the world, and look forward to hearing back from you...
With much love,
Elisabeth
I hope you are all well!
As for myself, I’m enjoying a short break between semesters. Level 2 has risen, wrestled, and been defeated. One week from now level 3 will raise to the challenge, and attempt success where levels 1 and 2 have failed. That conquered, I will be half way through the language program. Which is baffling to realize!
Meanwhile, I’ve been teaching myself to write with my right hand. From writing so many hours of Korean vocabulary (the most effective way I’ve so far discovered of stimulating memorization), my left hand has begun to cramp and to be rather weak and shaky. I find that icing it for a few hours, after studying, helps a lot, but what a way to spend a cold winter evening! So now I’m training my other hand to obey me, and am happy to be able to report that my right-handed penmanship is becoming stronger and more readable each day.
My head, as well as my hand, is aching for relief, and as a means of clearing from it the cobwebs of Korean, a Chinese classmate and I have begun meeting, once a week, for Chinese lessons. I have been enjoying these heartily, and find them relaxing, since (both of us having busy schedules and full heads) we’re taking it pretty easy. I’ve been amused, however, by the two responses that I generally receive, when I tell my friends of it. In one camp, well wishers are concerned for my sanity, and caution me not to over do it. In the other, I’m unofficially classified ‘genius’, and wondered at from afar. So far, the most rational responses I’ve received have been from the Wilkes and Amy Horn, which is no real surprise, considering our relative situations.
Titus and Ruth: That sounds really good! Do you think we could do it with you?
Amy: Glad to hear about your Chinese lessons...that sounds like a blessing, and a good way to relax your head from Korean.
Namdaemun (Great South Gate), which was South Korea’s No.1 National Treasure (compliments to it having been built in the 1400’s), was set fire to, a few weeks ago, by a disgruntled citizen, who was dissatisfied about the outcome of a decade-old land dispute. It was a shame, and when I first heard news of it, I was floored. There has been so much destruction to Korea, over the years, by other countries, and so little of her history has been preserved, that this senseless damage really upset me. So I called Rebekah, who (having wandered with me through the streets and alleyways of that ungainly market which sprawls at it’s feet) could sympathize with my dismay, and after talking for a little while, felt quite better enough to apply my mind to other things.
There was another fire in this area, a few weeks ago. Standing cold and formidable on the hill behind my house, a public high school caught fire, and proceeded to be consumed. It was late in the afternoon, so there were no crowds of people in the halls, and the fire seemed to catch slowly enough to allow plenty of time for laggards to make good their escape. I was studying, and hadn’t heard the crowds gathering outside my house, from where there was a clear view of the action. Shouting men, and flashing lights aren’t out of the norm enough for them to really claim my attention, so I gave only half an ear, and wasn’t diverted until a siren screamed just outside my window. That surprised me, and throwing on my coat, I stepped on to the front step just in time to witness a fire engine backing up (apparently the driver hadn’t realized that my alley is something of a dead end) to the computer-generated tune of Fur Elise, in lieu of that more generally accepted series of beeps which one would expect to hear in association with the backing up of a large and cumbersome vehicle. My very intimate understanding of the Koreans’ love of bells, whistles and random tunes notwithstanding, this caught me off guard, and regardless of circumstances, I was hard put not to laugh at the absurdity of that pleasant melody warbling imperturbably forth, from such a vehicle and at such a time.
I’ve begun attending a small to medium sized church on the campus of nearby Yonsei University. My attendance is really more a matter of form, than otherwise, as it’s been difficult for me to find my niche among them. They’re trying to form a small group that will meet after services, which I’ll begin attending as a means of getting to know the people there better. Meanwhile, my main source of fellowship comes, rather, from two other small groups, organized by a different church, that meet in my area, one on Thursday evenings, and the other on Fridays. Outside of the time I spend with Titus and Ruth, these evenings are the highlight of my week, stimulating, creative, and challenging. And English. ^^
Yesterday and all last evening it snowed. I was going out to meet some friends, and my first reaction, as I stepped outside, was to reach for my umbrella in imitation of then native inhabitants of this country, to protect myself from becoming white with the world. Stopping myself, I gave a little laugh, left my pink umbrella on it’s accommodating hook, and put on a pair of black gloves instead. It was beautiful snow. It flitted about in perfectly symmetrically flakes, clinging to the bare limbs of the trees, and setting gently on the sidewalks and streets in little flurries. I held my hands up, exulting inside that something so small could have been fashioned be so perfectly. All evening it continued to fall, and I stopped near my house, on my way back home, and patted together a very little snow man (passers-by at first seemed concerned by this irregularity, but when they saw that it was just a foreigner, they exchanged comprehending glances and passed on), which I set on the curb, thinking all the while of Amy Horn, of course.
Well, this email makes up in length, if nothing else, what my last lacked. I enjoy telling you all little bits and pieces of my life on this side of the world, and look forward to hearing back from you...
With much love,
Elisabeth
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Being in Touch
2/7
Dear Family,
It is far too long ago that I last wrote. It’s kind of tough getting back into the swing of things, after having been so royally entertained with first my sister’s company, and then with Amy’s. I find that I’ve begun to let things fall behind, and have a difficult time applying my mind to things that were before simple matters. Talking to my sister, the other day, I laughingly described it as ‘post-company syndrome’ and suppose that pretty accurately sums it up. But I know that moping won’t help me to get back into the swing of things, so today I gave myself a mental shake, rolled up my sleeves, and put myself to work.. Work is always therapeutic.
So are game rooms. I hadn’t wanted to go to Bible study, last Friday evening. After having frustrated myself to the point of tears over evasive Korean expressions, I wanted nothing more than to lie down on my bed, and never move again. But, supposing it would be a good thing for me to get some fresh air (it being nearly a half-hour walk to my destination) and to interact a bit with others, I bundled myself up and took myself off. Excellent intentions notwithstanding, I couldn’t rouse my thoughts to engage in what was toward, and don’t suppose I said two words together. Instead, quietly sipping a latte, my mind, belying my erect position, slept. Our group broke up at ten o’clock, and I would have headed home, had some brilliant individual not suggested heading over to a game room. I decided to join them for a short time, at least, and we all made our way up the street. The atmosphere of a game room is much like that of a coffee shop, warm and small, with lots of tables and comfy (or not quite) chairs. We entered, sat, and after a cursory glance at the game menu, opted for Speed Scrabble. I began to wake up, and by the time we had done with that and moved on to other games, I was fully alert and enjoying myself thoroughly. We didn’t leave until past midnight, and by that time I felt entirely restored to my normal self, and was persuaded that few things (if any) hold a candle to a good game with good friends!
2/10
The Chinese New Year came and went over this last week, and I turned 25 with it. In Korea, Lunar New Year is not only the biggest holiday of the year, but it’s also the day that everyone adds a number to his age. Start with the fact a child is considered a year old at birth, and it can get really complicated really fast. One year at birth, and another added on New Years Day means that babies born on the 6th of this month are already two years old. As inaccurate as this system is, Koreans don’t usually exchange ages, but birth years. In reply to “How old are you?” the common reply is “I was born in 19__.”
Only one more week of class to go before finals. I’ll be happy to be done with level two, so that I can tackle level three. Learning is frustrating, sometimes. I have a lot of knowledge in my head, but don’t feel like I’m really able to make it very applicable. I know all of the material that we’ve covered so far, but I can’t make it happen when I need to. I find myself reverting to baby-talk when I’m on the spot, then slapping my head later for not having spoken as I ought to have been able to. I know I just need more practice. I need to hang out with more Koreans who don’t speak any English. Most of my Korean friends are bi-lingual, and we end up communicating in my language, because it’s smoother that way.
Well, I feel like this email is a little bit choppy, and neither very interesting nor very communicative. I’ve been pretty tired lately, and have had a hard time making my mind engage. But I wanted to be in touch, and to give you all a brief update on how things are going.
I’ll write again soon; meanwhile I pray God’s blessings on you,
Elisabeth
Dear Family,
It is far too long ago that I last wrote. It’s kind of tough getting back into the swing of things, after having been so royally entertained with first my sister’s company, and then with Amy’s. I find that I’ve begun to let things fall behind, and have a difficult time applying my mind to things that were before simple matters. Talking to my sister, the other day, I laughingly described it as ‘post-company syndrome’ and suppose that pretty accurately sums it up. But I know that moping won’t help me to get back into the swing of things, so today I gave myself a mental shake, rolled up my sleeves, and put myself to work.. Work is always therapeutic.
So are game rooms. I hadn’t wanted to go to Bible study, last Friday evening. After having frustrated myself to the point of tears over evasive Korean expressions, I wanted nothing more than to lie down on my bed, and never move again. But, supposing it would be a good thing for me to get some fresh air (it being nearly a half-hour walk to my destination) and to interact a bit with others, I bundled myself up and took myself off. Excellent intentions notwithstanding, I couldn’t rouse my thoughts to engage in what was toward, and don’t suppose I said two words together. Instead, quietly sipping a latte, my mind, belying my erect position, slept. Our group broke up at ten o’clock, and I would have headed home, had some brilliant individual not suggested heading over to a game room. I decided to join them for a short time, at least, and we all made our way up the street. The atmosphere of a game room is much like that of a coffee shop, warm and small, with lots of tables and comfy (or not quite) chairs. We entered, sat, and after a cursory glance at the game menu, opted for Speed Scrabble. I began to wake up, and by the time we had done with that and moved on to other games, I was fully alert and enjoying myself thoroughly. We didn’t leave until past midnight, and by that time I felt entirely restored to my normal self, and was persuaded that few things (if any) hold a candle to a good game with good friends!
2/10
The Chinese New Year came and went over this last week, and I turned 25 with it. In Korea, Lunar New Year is not only the biggest holiday of the year, but it’s also the day that everyone adds a number to his age. Start with the fact a child is considered a year old at birth, and it can get really complicated really fast. One year at birth, and another added on New Years Day means that babies born on the 6th of this month are already two years old. As inaccurate as this system is, Koreans don’t usually exchange ages, but birth years. In reply to “How old are you?” the common reply is “I was born in 19__.”
Only one more week of class to go before finals. I’ll be happy to be done with level two, so that I can tackle level three. Learning is frustrating, sometimes. I have a lot of knowledge in my head, but don’t feel like I’m really able to make it very applicable. I know all of the material that we’ve covered so far, but I can’t make it happen when I need to. I find myself reverting to baby-talk when I’m on the spot, then slapping my head later for not having spoken as I ought to have been able to. I know I just need more practice. I need to hang out with more Koreans who don’t speak any English. Most of my Korean friends are bi-lingual, and we end up communicating in my language, because it’s smoother that way.
Well, I feel like this email is a little bit choppy, and neither very interesting nor very communicative. I’ve been pretty tired lately, and have had a hard time making my mind engage. But I wanted to be in touch, and to give you all a brief update on how things are going.
I’ll write again soon; meanwhile I pray God’s blessings on you,
Elisabeth
Monday, December 31, 2007
"I like this place..." - Shakespeare
Hello Dear Family,
I've been heartily enjoying my sister's company, as is evidenced by my recent lapse in communication. I haven't written in over a month, and feel that it's about time to catch you up on all the present happenstances of daily life in Korea.
As you know, Rebekah (whom I introduce to my Korean friends as Becky, a much more linguistically manageable name) arrived two weeks ago, on a Monday evening. Four days later my Christmas break began, and we've spent these last nine days visiting all those exciting places in Korea that everyone other than its residents have toured. I haven't really been out much, since getting back here, so it's been good for me to spend some of my days out of doors. If only to spite the frigid temperatures.
We've taken a boat on the Han River (a first for me), ascended 136 meters up to the 3rd observation deck of Seoul Tower, nearly lost ourselves in the Namdaemun market, strolled through the quaint, traditional streets of Insadong, popped our heads out of the subway in Itaewon, the foreign side of town, enjoyed fresh, warm waffles underground, joined a DMZ tour, and of course, partaken of those necessary Korean dishes: kimche, rice, noodle soup, kimbop, mandu, and p'chingae.
Needless to say, I haven't studied much over this last week. But, having foreseen a busy Christmas break, I purchased my level two books in advance, about a month and a half ago, and committed to memory sixty-eight vocabulary words a day, between semesters. That covered all of the vocab for level two, cutting about two hours a day off of my study time once school began. So now I'm able to be relaxed and enjoy hanging out with Rebekah, without being stressed out or feeling like I'm falling behind.
It's interesting for me to watch her response to things that have become a part of my every day life. It brings back all of my impressions, from the first few months I lived here.
Walking out together out on Rebekah's first day here, I was surprised when, as I stepped out to cross a road without first looking both ways, she grabbed my arm and jerked me back onto the sidewalk. "It's okay," I laughed at her, "Drivers here are pretty alert for pedestrians." Was it only twelve months ago that I lived strictly according to the rules of crosswalks and stop lights, lest all of Seoul's maniacal drivers run me over at once?
When it comes to elbowing ones way through a crowded subway or bus, her western sense of etiquette amuses me. I'd forgotten that where I come from there's such a thing as personal space. But, as she follows in my intrepid wake, I remember the first time I had to physically move a stranger aside, and what an daunting, uncomfortable experiencethat was for me.
"What were you guys talking about?" she often asks, when I walk away from a Korean conversation, and it comes back: how lonely it was to be on the outside of interesting discussions for so very long, and how badly I once wanted to be able to at just get by in Korean.
It's good for me to remember. I get discouraged when I don't see huge leaps and bounds of progress, or immediate results. But memories provide a contrast between where I was a year ago and where I am now. I realize that my time here has been as profitable as it has been pleasant, and (to quote Shakespeare), "I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it."
Aside from the negative effects of a semi-debilitating head cold, the end of 2007 has been altogether pleasant, and I look forward to writing you all again next year.
Much love, and thank you for your prayers, and for the letters that you sent with Rebekah,
Elisabeth
I've been heartily enjoying my sister's company, as is evidenced by my recent lapse in communication. I haven't written in over a month, and feel that it's about time to catch you up on all the present happenstances of daily life in Korea.
As you know, Rebekah (whom I introduce to my Korean friends as Becky, a much more linguistically manageable name) arrived two weeks ago, on a Monday evening. Four days later my Christmas break began, and we've spent these last nine days visiting all those exciting places in Korea that everyone other than its residents have toured. I haven't really been out much, since getting back here, so it's been good for me to spend some of my days out of doors. If only to spite the frigid temperatures.
We've taken a boat on the Han River (a first for me), ascended 136 meters up to the 3rd observation deck of Seoul Tower, nearly lost ourselves in the Namdaemun market, strolled through the quaint, traditional streets of Insadong, popped our heads out of the subway in Itaewon, the foreign side of town, enjoyed fresh, warm waffles underground, joined a DMZ tour, and of course, partaken of those necessary Korean dishes: kimche, rice, noodle soup, kimbop, mandu, and p'chingae.
Needless to say, I haven't studied much over this last week. But, having foreseen a busy Christmas break, I purchased my level two books in advance, about a month and a half ago, and committed to memory sixty-eight vocabulary words a day, between semesters. That covered all of the vocab for level two, cutting about two hours a day off of my study time once school began. So now I'm able to be relaxed and enjoy hanging out with Rebekah, without being stressed out or feeling like I'm falling behind.
It's interesting for me to watch her response to things that have become a part of my every day life. It brings back all of my impressions, from the first few months I lived here.
Walking out together out on Rebekah's first day here, I was surprised when, as I stepped out to cross a road without first looking both ways, she grabbed my arm and jerked me back onto the sidewalk. "It's okay," I laughed at her, "Drivers here are pretty alert for pedestrians." Was it only twelve months ago that I lived strictly according to the rules of crosswalks and stop lights, lest all of Seoul's maniacal drivers run me over at once?
When it comes to elbowing ones way through a crowded subway or bus, her western sense of etiquette amuses me. I'd forgotten that where I come from there's such a thing as personal space. But, as she follows in my intrepid wake, I remember the first time I had to physically move a stranger aside, and what an daunting, uncomfortable experiencethat was for me.
"What were you guys talking about?" she often asks, when I walk away from a Korean conversation, and it comes back: how lonely it was to be on the outside of interesting discussions for so very long, and how badly I once wanted to be able to at just get by in Korean.
It's good for me to remember. I get discouraged when I don't see huge leaps and bounds of progress, or immediate results. But memories provide a contrast between where I was a year ago and where I am now. I realize that my time here has been as profitable as it has been pleasant, and (to quote Shakespeare), "I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it."
Aside from the negative effects of a semi-debilitating head cold, the end of 2007 has been altogether pleasant, and I look forward to writing you all again next year.
Much love, and thank you for your prayers, and for the letters that you sent with Rebekah,
Elisabeth
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A Lovely Little Phone
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
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
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.
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