I'm home in Seattle.
Overwhelmed by the lack of money, job, car.
Exhausted by everything - it wasn't like this coming home from Korea.
Unsure of how to cope with/understand Palestine from the first world democracy we live in here.
Certain I will return.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Kindness of Strangers
The sweat is dripping down my back and my right side is starting to hurt from forgetting to switch the shovel to my left hand. Out in Beit Sahour the weather is calm, dark, and overcast. I imagine everyone but me is praying for rain. Sarah, Patrick, and I are begrudgingly rebuilding the tire wall we had nearly finished the week before - devious kids, a rouge car, a sheep stampede perhaps? This is the part about building a leadership center that isn't fun. The high ropes course is done, the compost toilets are waiting for the cement to dry, so we are building a wall. Stuffing tires with rocks, empty plastic bottles, doll fragments, anything we can find. A long process of shoveling, packing, testing for empty pockets, packing again, testing again.
I'm aimlessly pushing a pile of dirt back and forth on the pavement, waiting for the next holler of, "more dirt!", thinking more about how my hands hurt or how cold I am, than the kids this is being built for. In my exhausted and apathetic state I look up and find myself standing in front of a grinning Palestinian fellow. He's smiling ear to ear and confidently walking around our small group. Inspecting. Admiring.
"Where are you from? What are you doing?" he asks. Direct questions, yes. But completely sincere. I explain we are from various places in the states, working in Palestine at various organizations - all lending a hand on the side to build the center.
"Very good! Very good! Ahlan wasahalan!" Welcome! he proclaims, as he clasps my hands, looking me directly in the eye. Before I know what's happening, He's opening his van doors and haphazardly carting a large bucket our way. I miss what he says and hear, "I want to give you olive oil". There is nothing better than locally pressed olive oil. My mouth begins to water. To my shock and horror, he lifts the lid from the bucket to expose 3 gallons of olives. No oil. How do I avert the inevitable situation to come? I have already expressed my delight in his gift, there's no way to back out now. He ladles out a handful of olives and by the universal gesture meaning "please take one", pushes it my way.
I tense up, my mouth goes dry, I can't do this. I have never liked olives. Not one kind has graced my pallet and been deemed acceptable to swallow. With the few seconds I have, I decipher the smallest and least harmful fruit. With a smile that would fool hollywood directors, I pop it in my mouth and begin chewing. Staying just long enough for him to see the delight in my face, I turn and walk towards the shed where I know I can squirm in disgust in solitude.
walking back, I look up at sarah and say, "it wasn't that bad"
The story of my first olive.
I'm aimlessly pushing a pile of dirt back and forth on the pavement, waiting for the next holler of, "more dirt!", thinking more about how my hands hurt or how cold I am, than the kids this is being built for. In my exhausted and apathetic state I look up and find myself standing in front of a grinning Palestinian fellow. He's smiling ear to ear and confidently walking around our small group. Inspecting. Admiring.
"Where are you from? What are you doing?" he asks. Direct questions, yes. But completely sincere. I explain we are from various places in the states, working in Palestine at various organizations - all lending a hand on the side to build the center.
"Very good! Very good! Ahlan wasahalan!" Welcome! he proclaims, as he clasps my hands, looking me directly in the eye. Before I know what's happening, He's opening his van doors and haphazardly carting a large bucket our way. I miss what he says and hear, "I want to give you olive oil". There is nothing better than locally pressed olive oil. My mouth begins to water. To my shock and horror, he lifts the lid from the bucket to expose 3 gallons of olives. No oil. How do I avert the inevitable situation to come? I have already expressed my delight in his gift, there's no way to back out now. He ladles out a handful of olives and by the universal gesture meaning "please take one", pushes it my way.
I tense up, my mouth goes dry, I can't do this. I have never liked olives. Not one kind has graced my pallet and been deemed acceptable to swallow. With the few seconds I have, I decipher the smallest and least harmful fruit. With a smile that would fool hollywood directors, I pop it in my mouth and begin chewing. Staying just long enough for him to see the delight in my face, I turn and walk towards the shed where I know I can squirm in disgust in solitude.
walking back, I look up at sarah and say, "it wasn't that bad"
The story of my first olive.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A Daily Occurrence
Israeli settlers harass Palestinian family, beat and rob internationals
Yesterday at 10:17pm
On Tuesday, 17 November, in the South Hebron Hills of the West Bank, five Israeli settlers harassed a Palestinian family walking home, then beat and robbed two internationals who accompanied them.
The two young parents and their three small children were returning from the nearby city of Yatta to their home village of Tuba. At 11 a.m. they encountered two members of Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) just south of the village of At-Tuwani. After the CPTers warned the Palestinians about the settlers seen earlier in the morning, the family chose a longer path toward Tuba, accompanied by the CPTers.
As the group crossed Mashakha Hill, they saw four settler men on a ridge 50 meters above them. The settlers ran toward the Palestinians and began to circle them. A fifth settler, masked and hooded, appeared from the valley below. When the Palestinian man told them he was only trying to walk home, a settler shoved him.
As the CPTers attempted to step between the Palestinians and settlers, the settlers pushed them to the ground, hit and kicked them, and stole their two video cameras. The settlers then walked to the illegal settlement outpost* of Havot Ma’on (Hill 833), where they disappeared among the trees 20 minutes later. The Palestinian family reached their home safely.
For decades, residents of Tuba Village had a direct road to the village of At-Tuwani, and onward to the regional economic hub of Yatta. The Israeli settlement of Ma’on and its neighboring illegal outpost of Havat Ma’on were built directly on that road, blocking all Palestinian traffic and forcing villagers onto long dirt paths through the hills, taking as much as two hours.
CPT has maintained a continuous full-time presence in At-Tuwani since 2005, supporting Palestinian freedom of movement under the threat of settler violence. CPT places trained volunteers in locations of violent conflict around the world at the invitation of local peacemakers.
[*Note: According to the Geneva Conventions, the International Court of Justice in the Hague, and numerous United Nations resolutions, all Israeli settlements in the Occupied Palestinian Territories are illegal. Most settlement outposts are considered illegal under Israeli law.]
Copied and posted from http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/notes/peter-miller/israeli-settlers-harass-palestinian-family-beat-and-rob-internationals/178102459844
Yesterday at 10:17pm
On Tuesday, 17 November, in the South Hebron Hills of the West Bank, five Israeli settlers harassed a Palestinian family walking home, then beat and robbed two internationals who accompanied them.
The two young parents and their three small children were returning from the nearby city of Yatta to their home village of Tuba. At 11 a.m. they encountered two members of Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) just south of the village of At-Tuwani. After the CPTers warned the Palestinians about the settlers seen earlier in the morning, the family chose a longer path toward Tuba, accompanied by the CPTers.
As the group crossed Mashakha Hill, they saw four settler men on a ridge 50 meters above them. The settlers ran toward the Palestinians and began to circle them. A fifth settler, masked and hooded, appeared from the valley below. When the Palestinian man told them he was only trying to walk home, a settler shoved him.
As the CPTers attempted to step between the Palestinians and settlers, the settlers pushed them to the ground, hit and kicked them, and stole their two video cameras. The settlers then walked to the illegal settlement outpost* of Havot Ma’on (Hill 833), where they disappeared among the trees 20 minutes later. The Palestinian family reached their home safely.
For decades, residents of Tuba Village had a direct road to the village of At-Tuwani, and onward to the regional economic hub of Yatta. The Israeli settlement of Ma’on and its neighboring illegal outpost of Havat Ma’on were built directly on that road, blocking all Palestinian traffic and forcing villagers onto long dirt paths through the hills, taking as much as two hours.
CPT has maintained a continuous full-time presence in At-Tuwani since 2005, supporting Palestinian freedom of movement under the threat of settler violence. CPT places trained volunteers in locations of violent conflict around the world at the invitation of local peacemakers.
[*Note: According to the Geneva Conventions, the International Court of Justice in the Hague, and numerous United Nations resolutions, all Israeli settlements in the Occupied Palestinian Territories are illegal. Most settlement outposts are considered illegal under Israeli law.]
Copied and posted from http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/notes/peter-miller/israeli-settlers-harass-palestinian-family-beat-and-rob-internationals/178102459844
Monday, November 9, 2009
20 years ago today
Today is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. So, in celebration, my friends and I are going to head down to our wall and paint our own mural!
I'll post pics of the "after" once it's complete. Here are some wall pictures I've taken that can act as my "before"
The first picture is funny (sad funny). Outside the wall (Palestine) all the trees have been cut down to build a big, beautiful Christmas tree inside the walls (Israel).
I'll post pics of the "after" once it's complete. Here are some wall pictures I've taken that can act as my "before"
The first picture is funny (sad funny). Outside the wall (Palestine) all the trees have been cut down to build a big, beautiful Christmas tree inside the walls (Israel).
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The neighborhood is changing
As was expected, I found my niche, it just took a bit to realize there are tons of young volunteers scurrying about my little town.
I'm living in a schizophrenic reality here. On one side, there is a movement going on reminiscent of racial cleansing - Remove all Arabs from Jerusalem, and do it now!, and on the other side, there is normal daily life. People going bowling on the weekends, and laughing in coffee shops. I can not reconcile them. It makes understanding this area so difficult, because if you want, you need only see what you'd like. Life can be managed without ever acknowledging the devastation Arab families face on a daily basis.
Something that's been front page news lately, and on my mind a considerable amount, is the demolition and eviction campaign going through East Jerusalem. This area is now, and always has been, in the West Bank - meaning Palestinian Territory. However, this becomes grey because although it is Palestinian land, it's governed by Israeli municipality. This of course leads to things like East Jerusalem residents having a cap put on their water usage, but paying the same in taxes as everyone living in West Jerusalem. Or civil services like street cleaning, road repair, or traffic policing being virtually non existent.
These circumstances, albeit awful and certainly unfair, are livable. But imagine this: You are now raising your family in the house where your parents were raised. It's the only possession of worth your family owns. And you do own it. You pay taxes on it to the Israeli municipality, you abide by the community regulations, it's yours. Then one day, an Israeli Defense Force officer (or 3 or 4) comes to your door with a notice stating "you have 10 minutes to evacuate your house and get out as many of your belongings as you can, this is no longer your house". Your house has a 50/50 shot of either A) being demolished to create a park, synagogue, parking lot or B) become immediately inhabited by an Israeli family (known here as "Settlers" for their uncanny ability to settle in someone else's house or on someone else's land without little thought to the plight of its previous residence).
This is the dire situation in Jerusalem right now. There are, of course, settlements (Israeli and/or Jewish communities) being built throughout the West Bank which daily feed the growth of the Palestinian refugee population. But that work is known to be illegal. Here in Jerusalem, the political process of ridding the area of Arab families is masked by claims that "Kind David used to take his walks through this area, and thus, it must be turned into a national park", and so, it is not that the Israeli government WANTS to get rid of the Arab families, but that they want to "preserve history". A thinly veiled rouse if you ask me.
One Arab family living on the outskirts of this targeted neighborhood received a demolition order a few weeks ago. Realizing they could do nothing to stop it, they sold their house to an Israeli family for pennies. The next day, the demolition order was dropped and never spoken of again. Tell me this isn't political.
Last night I went to my first protest. I can say this openly because as much as my mother would freak out (for my safety and future political career) if she knew, I know she doesn't read my blogs (thanks mom). A group of 50+ activists from all walks of life - Israelis, Palestinians, Internationals, met together, holding signs and chanting, at the doorstep of a house in East Jerusalem previously owned by a Palestinian family, currently occupied by Israeli Settlers. Where did the Arab family go you may ask.. they were living in a tent across the street.
And yet in the midst of all of this, they keep fighting, waiting for someone to stand up and defend them.
In the words of one the protester's signs, "Obama, here is your chance to earn your Nobel Prize - enforce international law"
(side note: As of right now, pictures are posted on Facebook as the internet is too slow to put multiple pictures up on this. Check them out!)
I'm living in a schizophrenic reality here. On one side, there is a movement going on reminiscent of racial cleansing - Remove all Arabs from Jerusalem, and do it now!, and on the other side, there is normal daily life. People going bowling on the weekends, and laughing in coffee shops. I can not reconcile them. It makes understanding this area so difficult, because if you want, you need only see what you'd like. Life can be managed without ever acknowledging the devastation Arab families face on a daily basis.
Something that's been front page news lately, and on my mind a considerable amount, is the demolition and eviction campaign going through East Jerusalem. This area is now, and always has been, in the West Bank - meaning Palestinian Territory. However, this becomes grey because although it is Palestinian land, it's governed by Israeli municipality. This of course leads to things like East Jerusalem residents having a cap put on their water usage, but paying the same in taxes as everyone living in West Jerusalem. Or civil services like street cleaning, road repair, or traffic policing being virtually non existent.
These circumstances, albeit awful and certainly unfair, are livable. But imagine this: You are now raising your family in the house where your parents were raised. It's the only possession of worth your family owns. And you do own it. You pay taxes on it to the Israeli municipality, you abide by the community regulations, it's yours. Then one day, an Israeli Defense Force officer (or 3 or 4) comes to your door with a notice stating "you have 10 minutes to evacuate your house and get out as many of your belongings as you can, this is no longer your house". Your house has a 50/50 shot of either A) being demolished to create a park, synagogue, parking lot or B) become immediately inhabited by an Israeli family (known here as "Settlers" for their uncanny ability to settle in someone else's house or on someone else's land without little thought to the plight of its previous residence).
This is the dire situation in Jerusalem right now. There are, of course, settlements (Israeli and/or Jewish communities) being built throughout the West Bank which daily feed the growth of the Palestinian refugee population. But that work is known to be illegal. Here in Jerusalem, the political process of ridding the area of Arab families is masked by claims that "Kind David used to take his walks through this area, and thus, it must be turned into a national park", and so, it is not that the Israeli government WANTS to get rid of the Arab families, but that they want to "preserve history". A thinly veiled rouse if you ask me.
One Arab family living on the outskirts of this targeted neighborhood received a demolition order a few weeks ago. Realizing they could do nothing to stop it, they sold their house to an Israeli family for pennies. The next day, the demolition order was dropped and never spoken of again. Tell me this isn't political.
Last night I went to my first protest. I can say this openly because as much as my mother would freak out (for my safety and future political career) if she knew, I know she doesn't read my blogs (thanks mom). A group of 50+ activists from all walks of life - Israelis, Palestinians, Internationals, met together, holding signs and chanting, at the doorstep of a house in East Jerusalem previously owned by a Palestinian family, currently occupied by Israeli Settlers. Where did the Arab family go you may ask.. they were living in a tent across the street.
And yet in the midst of all of this, they keep fighting, waiting for someone to stand up and defend them.
In the words of one the protester's signs, "Obama, here is your chance to earn your Nobel Prize - enforce international law"
(side note: As of right now, pictures are posted on Facebook as the internet is too slow to put multiple pictures up on this. Check them out!)
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
An ENFJ's worst nightmare
Today begins week 3. Past trips or experiences, I found myself coming to my journal with the opening remark, "Time has flown by..". Here it's barely moving. My rationale is that by all accounts, this is the hardest place I've ever found myself. Difficult on all fronts. Living in Bethlehem is an amazing experience, but one that comes with limitations. As a female, I can, but am strongly warned against, walking alone after dark. Being that winter is (slowly) beginning to show it's face, night acts like these mischievous kids and sneaks up without warning. It then holds me here like a hostage, leaving me to dream of all the secret fun those who can be out must be having. The solitude sometimes feels like isolation. I'm realizing quickly how much I depend on the company of others, and am hoping this experience will "grow me out of it" just slightly. I'm an extrovert, so slightly may even be a stretch. I find myself often thinking of home, because I love the people there, but also because it's so difficult to find something here that resembles it. How funny it is to now look back on my time in Korea and think how little of a stretch that was from my normal life. I had the things I really valued - a close community - people that made me laugh, mobility, cafes to use as a get away from home and work..
Read this entry as simply this: Being here has made me more self aware, and I am prepared for a time of much self reflection and (cross your fingers) growth.
(can you, through time & practice, become more or less extroverted/introverted? I guess we'll see)
Read this entry as simply this: Being here has made me more self aware, and I am prepared for a time of much self reflection and (cross your fingers) growth.
(can you, through time & practice, become more or less extroverted/introverted? I guess we'll see)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A Bumpy Ride
I've waged war. Against the mosquitoes. I've been in town a week, and am already covered in bites - my legs look like I have leprosy and I can't shave. It is quite dismal. I killed 3 yesterday however, so if my math is correct, I think the score is even.
It's 5:30pm and I just got back from a walk to the Church of the Nativity with Iman and Naggi. Two boys that live here at the House of Hope. We blended right in - a tall white girl walking hand in hand with 2 special needs kids. Iman is the only boy at the house who speaks English, and although I sometimes (a lot of times) don't understand exactly what he's sayings, it's still so nice to get to put thoughts to their smiling faces. Today he called his mom on his hand phone a few times on our walk. I told him to tell her "Marhaba, Keif Haulic?" (Hello, how are you?) - His hand phone literally being his hand. Naggi doesn't talk much and has a more severe case of retardation, but his heart radiates out of him.
Before the much needed walk, I spent most of the day overly frustrated. You know when you are aware of what needs to be done, but there are so many things to do, deciding how to most efficiently get them all done tends to make your head spin rather than lead towards a productive end? That was my day. Fully self inflicted, but that doesn't cut the burn. I'm in the process of marketing a guest house. But the guest house is fairly new and hasn't been "set up" so to speak. So there is much work to be done.
But, it's hard to be upset about the goings-on of my life when I look outside and see the kids riding in circles on their bikes laughing at the top of their lungs. Probably at nothing, but I guess that's the point isn't it?
Let me regress and fill you in on the days leading up to this one.. I have now lived here one week. 7 days. It feels longer than that - Is that a good or bad sign? On my first full day in town, I saw both the church of the nativity (where Jesus was said to be born) and Matisyahu, a hasidic jewish rapper. The latter came about because Mike (Schmautz) heard he was in town doing a show and knew the venue was perfect for poor volunteers such as ourselves (and all of our friends here). The concert was at a place called 'Sultan's Pools' which is this hole in the middle of Jerusalem (literally, right outside Jaffa Gate in a highly populated area). The amphitheater is built into this hole which conveniently is situated right between two hillsides. We scurried up the hill furthest from the road, and possible noise disturbance, and situated ourselves under a grove of olive trees. While we couldn't actually see him like the people IN the theater, we did save ourselves 200 shekels ($50). It was quite an introduction to the area.
For those that are aware, this area of the world is a hot bed of tension. As with most situations like these, the majority of the people on both sides, are good people, not wanting harm for anyone. Of course governments and the few make this hope a failing one. I am living and working in Bethlehem, which is in the West Bank and therefore Occupied Territory of Palestine. Being in this area, it becomes daily life to discuss what's going on here - the harassment by the soldiers at the checkpoints (not to me of course, my little white face gets the green light every time. No, it's my co-workers and friends that are stopped), the Palestinians who can't go to Jerusalem ever because they don't have the stamp from the Israeli government allowing it, the families that are woken in the morning to news that their house is being confiscated (in 5 minutes) and they need to leave immediately (due to "rezoning"), the audacity of the U.S., and countries around the world, to turn a blind eye to the illegal actions occurring every day.
It all weighs on you.
But I figured as much when I decided to come. My co-worker and friend Sammy, who's been working with the kids at the House of Hope for 19 years, was telling me yesterday he'd love to come visit Jerusalem with us some time, but it's just not worth it. He doesn't have permission, and I'm not sure why - I don't think he knows either. He explained that if he got caught coming into Jerusalem, he's be fined and then jailed up to 6 months. 6 months in jail because he's Palestinian and he wants to go to Jerusalem (East Jerusalem is technically the West Bank and Palestinian territory, however, it's governed under Israeli jurisdiction so it's no hope for Sammy.)
Beyond the politics of it all, Israeli or Palestinian, everyone I've met has been so kind and welcoming. Mike and I were invited to share a meal with a man Mike met randomly some time ago. He owns a little souvenir shop near the church of the nativity which doesn't make much money, but he's there smiling every day. After he made us food, we went to his shop and instead of letting us buy things from him (things which we were really only buying to support him in return for his hospitality), he gave me a necklace as a welcome present, and then wouldn't take more than 1/2 price for all the things we purchased. He kept saying, 'it is our way, please, take it'. It's always such a striking lesson to see people who are in no position to be generous, being just that. Adnan will forever be a good friend of mine.
Last thought, I will write more about this later - Arabic has become my favorite language. It is full of these wonderfully flavorful saying that are used in every day life such as "bless your hands" said when someone prepares something for you. Or When someone says 'Good morning', the response translates to something like 'the Light!'. And my favorite, 'Stab your eye out!', perfect for yelling at boys who are inappropriate looking up girls walking by.. it's lovely.
I'd post pictures, but the internet isn't letting me..
Go in peace
It's 5:30pm and I just got back from a walk to the Church of the Nativity with Iman and Naggi. Two boys that live here at the House of Hope. We blended right in - a tall white girl walking hand in hand with 2 special needs kids. Iman is the only boy at the house who speaks English, and although I sometimes (a lot of times) don't understand exactly what he's sayings, it's still so nice to get to put thoughts to their smiling faces. Today he called his mom on his hand phone a few times on our walk. I told him to tell her "Marhaba, Keif Haulic?" (Hello, how are you?) - His hand phone literally being his hand. Naggi doesn't talk much and has a more severe case of retardation, but his heart radiates out of him.
Before the much needed walk, I spent most of the day overly frustrated. You know when you are aware of what needs to be done, but there are so many things to do, deciding how to most efficiently get them all done tends to make your head spin rather than lead towards a productive end? That was my day. Fully self inflicted, but that doesn't cut the burn. I'm in the process of marketing a guest house. But the guest house is fairly new and hasn't been "set up" so to speak. So there is much work to be done.
But, it's hard to be upset about the goings-on of my life when I look outside and see the kids riding in circles on their bikes laughing at the top of their lungs. Probably at nothing, but I guess that's the point isn't it?
Let me regress and fill you in on the days leading up to this one.. I have now lived here one week. 7 days. It feels longer than that - Is that a good or bad sign? On my first full day in town, I saw both the church of the nativity (where Jesus was said to be born) and Matisyahu, a hasidic jewish rapper. The latter came about because Mike (Schmautz) heard he was in town doing a show and knew the venue was perfect for poor volunteers such as ourselves (and all of our friends here). The concert was at a place called 'Sultan's Pools' which is this hole in the middle of Jerusalem (literally, right outside Jaffa Gate in a highly populated area). The amphitheater is built into this hole which conveniently is situated right between two hillsides. We scurried up the hill furthest from the road, and possible noise disturbance, and situated ourselves under a grove of olive trees. While we couldn't actually see him like the people IN the theater, we did save ourselves 200 shekels ($50). It was quite an introduction to the area.
For those that are aware, this area of the world is a hot bed of tension. As with most situations like these, the majority of the people on both sides, are good people, not wanting harm for anyone. Of course governments and the few make this hope a failing one. I am living and working in Bethlehem, which is in the West Bank and therefore Occupied Territory of Palestine. Being in this area, it becomes daily life to discuss what's going on here - the harassment by the soldiers at the checkpoints (not to me of course, my little white face gets the green light every time. No, it's my co-workers and friends that are stopped), the Palestinians who can't go to Jerusalem ever because they don't have the stamp from the Israeli government allowing it, the families that are woken in the morning to news that their house is being confiscated (in 5 minutes) and they need to leave immediately (due to "rezoning"), the audacity of the U.S., and countries around the world, to turn a blind eye to the illegal actions occurring every day.
It all weighs on you.
But I figured as much when I decided to come. My co-worker and friend Sammy, who's been working with the kids at the House of Hope for 19 years, was telling me yesterday he'd love to come visit Jerusalem with us some time, but it's just not worth it. He doesn't have permission, and I'm not sure why - I don't think he knows either. He explained that if he got caught coming into Jerusalem, he's be fined and then jailed up to 6 months. 6 months in jail because he's Palestinian and he wants to go to Jerusalem (East Jerusalem is technically the West Bank and Palestinian territory, however, it's governed under Israeli jurisdiction so it's no hope for Sammy.)
Beyond the politics of it all, Israeli or Palestinian, everyone I've met has been so kind and welcoming. Mike and I were invited to share a meal with a man Mike met randomly some time ago. He owns a little souvenir shop near the church of the nativity which doesn't make much money, but he's there smiling every day. After he made us food, we went to his shop and instead of letting us buy things from him (things which we were really only buying to support him in return for his hospitality), he gave me a necklace as a welcome present, and then wouldn't take more than 1/2 price for all the things we purchased. He kept saying, 'it is our way, please, take it'. It's always such a striking lesson to see people who are in no position to be generous, being just that. Adnan will forever be a good friend of mine.
Last thought, I will write more about this later - Arabic has become my favorite language. It is full of these wonderfully flavorful saying that are used in every day life such as "bless your hands" said when someone prepares something for you. Or When someone says 'Good morning', the response translates to something like 'the Light!'. And my favorite, 'Stab your eye out!', perfect for yelling at boys who are inappropriate looking up girls walking by.. it's lovely.
I'd post pictures, but the internet isn't letting me..
Go in peace
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Conflict Zone: Geneva
(Introduction: For those of you who don’t know, I have just left the country to spend the next 3 months working in Bethlehem in the West Bank. I’ll be living and working for a Christian school and home for disabled kids. This is the tale of my time getting to Israel and Palestine.)
Last I remember, Switzerland was a land of abundant beauty, delicious chocolate & cheese, and peace; the neutral country. As we filed off the plane, myself and a few others become separated from the pack – due, of course, to our final destination: Tel Aviv. What you wouldn’t know until you attempt travel to Israel is this: any airport providing flights into Israel has a separate wing, separate security, separate regulations in place for their travelers. Myself and the other Tel Aviv bound passengers were brought through another round of security scanning (passed) and a questioning process (interrogation) inquiring or purpose in the country (failed). I’m not sure if I was too smiley or fidgeting like a caught criminal, but the Israeli checkpoint man was not convinced.
He wanted to know what I was doing in Israel, why I was traveling alone, who I knew there.. The conversation to the last question went a little something like this, “Do you know anyone in Israel?”, “Well I met a bunch of Israelis while I was traveling through Central America”, “what are their names?”, “Uh, Adi Simone.. um, sir I don’t know their last names, I just traveled with them, that’s all”. I don’t think he understood because he continued to ask where they live, what they do, etc etc.
From there I was asked how long I was staying in the country (almost 3 months). His response to this was, “How can you afford to take that much time off, you have lots of money in America?” At that point, I explained working and living in South Korea as an English teacher. I have to believe this is what tipped him off that I was a terrorist/anti-Israel fanatic, because he brought my passport over to another lady, they both look up at me as they discuss my possibly impressionable character in Hebrew, and then I was escorted below..
At this point, the man questioning me hands me off to another man who very kindly asks to look through all of my belongings and test everything for explosives (I think? Whatever they are testing when they rub that tissue all over and then stick it into the machine, waiting for the green light that says ‘you’re clear’). Then they asked permission to check through all of my checked luggage as well. So I sat. I sat and thought how odd it was to see a security man walking around with a machine gun in Switzerland. Thirty minutes later when they finished, another man, slightly more important looking, comes over and asks me the same round of questions. I may have looked like a deer in headlights, but apparently I was a deer who kept giving them the same answer because I was eventually told to have a nice trip and was sent on my way.
And when I finally reached Tel Aviv, the passport check asked one question, one time: “what is the purpose of your travel”. And the gentleman at customs asked me one question, one time, simply handed me back my passport and said, “Welcome to Israel”. I’m certainly not complaining, just expressing how odd I thought the order of that experience was. All is well (I guess). I am here, I am alive, I have more freedom as a visitor than any Arab has as a citizen in their own land.
Last I remember, Switzerland was a land of abundant beauty, delicious chocolate & cheese, and peace; the neutral country. As we filed off the plane, myself and a few others become separated from the pack – due, of course, to our final destination: Tel Aviv. What you wouldn’t know until you attempt travel to Israel is this: any airport providing flights into Israel has a separate wing, separate security, separate regulations in place for their travelers. Myself and the other Tel Aviv bound passengers were brought through another round of security scanning (passed) and a questioning process (interrogation) inquiring or purpose in the country (failed). I’m not sure if I was too smiley or fidgeting like a caught criminal, but the Israeli checkpoint man was not convinced.
He wanted to know what I was doing in Israel, why I was traveling alone, who I knew there.. The conversation to the last question went a little something like this, “Do you know anyone in Israel?”, “Well I met a bunch of Israelis while I was traveling through Central America”, “what are their names?”, “Uh, Adi Simone.. um, sir I don’t know their last names, I just traveled with them, that’s all”. I don’t think he understood because he continued to ask where they live, what they do, etc etc.
From there I was asked how long I was staying in the country (almost 3 months). His response to this was, “How can you afford to take that much time off, you have lots of money in America?” At that point, I explained working and living in South Korea as an English teacher. I have to believe this is what tipped him off that I was a terrorist/anti-Israel fanatic, because he brought my passport over to another lady, they both look up at me as they discuss my possibly impressionable character in Hebrew, and then I was escorted below..
At this point, the man questioning me hands me off to another man who very kindly asks to look through all of my belongings and test everything for explosives (I think? Whatever they are testing when they rub that tissue all over and then stick it into the machine, waiting for the green light that says ‘you’re clear’). Then they asked permission to check through all of my checked luggage as well. So I sat. I sat and thought how odd it was to see a security man walking around with a machine gun in Switzerland. Thirty minutes later when they finished, another man, slightly more important looking, comes over and asks me the same round of questions. I may have looked like a deer in headlights, but apparently I was a deer who kept giving them the same answer because I was eventually told to have a nice trip and was sent on my way.
And when I finally reached Tel Aviv, the passport check asked one question, one time: “what is the purpose of your travel”. And the gentleman at customs asked me one question, one time, simply handed me back my passport and said, “Welcome to Israel”. I’m certainly not complaining, just expressing how odd I thought the order of that experience was. All is well (I guess). I am here, I am alive, I have more freedom as a visitor than any Arab has as a citizen in their own land.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Kids
The gems that come out of their mouths might make the long days just worth it...
"Teacher what is my name?"
"Stephanie"
"Very good teacher. But now I go by Step."
"Oh, okay Steph"
"No no, STEP. It's short for Stephanie (duh)"
later she came up to me and holding out papers says, "Teacher, again?"
I look at her completely confused.. "What?"
waving the paper, "again?"
"Step, I have no idea what you are talking about"
She furrows her brows and purses her lips thinking how to resay it... "nevermind" and walks away.
I later came to find out she wanted to know if I wanted to RECYCLE the paper and use it again. I guess I should have picked up on that one.
"Class what is an adjective?", I ask.
"a word that decorates a noun" (a boy in one of the upper level classes)
I told him he couldn't be more correct
"Teacher what is my name?"
"Stephanie"
"Very good teacher. But now I go by Step."
"Oh, okay Steph"
"No no, STEP. It's short for Stephanie (duh)"
later she came up to me and holding out papers says, "Teacher, again?"
I look at her completely confused.. "What?"
waving the paper, "again?"
"Step, I have no idea what you are talking about"
She furrows her brows and purses her lips thinking how to resay it... "nevermind" and walks away.
I later came to find out she wanted to know if I wanted to RECYCLE the paper and use it again. I guess I should have picked up on that one.
"Class what is an adjective?", I ask.
"a word that decorates a noun" (a boy in one of the upper level classes)
I told him he couldn't be more correct
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Where's Waldo
I'm not sure what it is that keeps me participating in my blog some days/months, and completely unattached others. This has obviously been a bout of long separation - longer than I intended.
It is now just 2 weeks that I am home. 2 weeks from this very moment. In fact, at this time on the 20th, I will perhaps be passed out in my old familiar bed, or wired, sit shell-shocked in front of my TV. I can't imagine I'll have too much to say -- how do you answer a question that asks you to sum up an entire year's experience? "What was your favorite part?", they'll ask. "What will you miss most?", or "How is it being home?". Questions that will no doubt leave my head spinning. It's hard to crystallize the 365 past days. To me, they have been daily life. Wake up, work, come home, make dinner, socialize maybe, run? sleep -- A routine I slipped into within the first 30 days. Perhaps when asked what my favorite part was, I'll respond instead with, "You tell me what your favorite part was", "Of what?", "Your entire last year"...
Better is 'How has this experience changed you?', 'What have you learned?'. The answers to these, still a bit foggy, will at least be honest.
I learned that I am lucky to have grown up in America. Not because it's the land of opportunity or some other bullshit tagline someone made up, but because of the 'melting pot' or 'salad bowl' it truly is. I had no idea how lucky I was to be brought up understanding diversity to be such an ordinary thing. People from all over the world only sharing the same name on their passport (possibly). Diversity being ordinary. Wow.. I haven't felt that way in about a year..
secretly I'm excited to walk down the street and blend in (read: walk down a street where no one looks the same) To once again live in a world of Where's Waldo, where it takes more than a glance to find the American dude with glasses, a beanie, and a striped shirt.
It is now just 2 weeks that I am home. 2 weeks from this very moment. In fact, at this time on the 20th, I will perhaps be passed out in my old familiar bed, or wired, sit shell-shocked in front of my TV. I can't imagine I'll have too much to say -- how do you answer a question that asks you to sum up an entire year's experience? "What was your favorite part?", they'll ask. "What will you miss most?", or "How is it being home?". Questions that will no doubt leave my head spinning. It's hard to crystallize the 365 past days. To me, they have been daily life. Wake up, work, come home, make dinner, socialize maybe, run? sleep -- A routine I slipped into within the first 30 days. Perhaps when asked what my favorite part was, I'll respond instead with, "You tell me what your favorite part was", "Of what?", "Your entire last year"...
Better is 'How has this experience changed you?', 'What have you learned?'. The answers to these, still a bit foggy, will at least be honest.
I learned that I am lucky to have grown up in America. Not because it's the land of opportunity or some other bullshit tagline someone made up, but because of the 'melting pot' or 'salad bowl' it truly is. I had no idea how lucky I was to be brought up understanding diversity to be such an ordinary thing. People from all over the world only sharing the same name on their passport (possibly). Diversity being ordinary. Wow.. I haven't felt that way in about a year..
secretly I'm excited to walk down the street and blend in (read: walk down a street where no one looks the same) To once again live in a world of Where's Waldo, where it takes more than a glance to find the American dude with glasses, a beanie, and a striped shirt.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
A new perspective on old things
The sun is working overtime today. You can tell rains are about to come because the air is so thick you can eat it. Of course, the rains are due to arrive saturday - convenient for any weekend plans involving the great wide-open. Such is life.
June seems to have steamrolled by without even stopping to say hello. (Side note: It was in June that I decided it was a good idea to fly to China for the weekend to play in an ultimate frisbee tournament. It turned out I was correct, it was a good idea). With a few days left before July, all I can think about is my good family back home. This month is blessed with my Mother, Brother, and Sister's birthdays, as well as Father's day. One holiday for each of my family members (besides me of course), and I can't be there to celebrate along side of them.
So, I send my love to you from here. Mom, Matt, Anna - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And Pop, thank you for being my dad. I've definitely enjoyed it.
It's an interesting experience to be taken out of your element. To see how you function in an unknown place, in unknown circumstances. Being in Korea is far from being "out of my element", but it has been a chance to discover myself, to push myself outside the protection of any comfort zone, to 'see what I'm made of' so to speak. What has surfaced is a realization of who I am, or rather who I didn't know I was.
I've discovered I like painting. I had never actually tried it because I have friends and family that are really talented artists back home. Here, I've allowed myself to explore "me" beyond the limitations of who I thought I was. What I found was there is a peace and intensity in the solitude of painting that I really like. The finished product doesn't really say much, but luckily, I was never expecting it to. I just paint because it's fun.
Oddly enough, I turned out to be quite a good cook as well. I was never the child to attempt the meal preparations back home, because it seemed I was the only Kleinschmidt that couldn't cook. This, I have discovered, was a thinly veiled rouse. In fact, it was most likely sheer laziness that prevented me from entering the kitchen. Living alone, I have been thrown in the deep end. I cook or I do not eat. And, as it turns out, I was listening to those seasoning talks dad gave from his stove soap box all those years.
What I've come to understand about myself is this: I've gotten stuck into thinking I am this one person and no one else. I have these abilities, qualities, strengths, and that's that. Korea has been an exercise in upsetting those notions. So for that, Korea, I am thankful.
June seems to have steamrolled by without even stopping to say hello. (Side note: It was in June that I decided it was a good idea to fly to China for the weekend to play in an ultimate frisbee tournament. It turned out I was correct, it was a good idea). With a few days left before July, all I can think about is my good family back home. This month is blessed with my Mother, Brother, and Sister's birthdays, as well as Father's day. One holiday for each of my family members (besides me of course), and I can't be there to celebrate along side of them.
So, I send my love to you from here. Mom, Matt, Anna - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And Pop, thank you for being my dad. I've definitely enjoyed it.
It's an interesting experience to be taken out of your element. To see how you function in an unknown place, in unknown circumstances. Being in Korea is far from being "out of my element", but it has been a chance to discover myself, to push myself outside the protection of any comfort zone, to 'see what I'm made of' so to speak. What has surfaced is a realization of who I am, or rather who I didn't know I was.
I've discovered I like painting. I had never actually tried it because I have friends and family that are really talented artists back home. Here, I've allowed myself to explore "me" beyond the limitations of who I thought I was. What I found was there is a peace and intensity in the solitude of painting that I really like. The finished product doesn't really say much, but luckily, I was never expecting it to. I just paint because it's fun.
Oddly enough, I turned out to be quite a good cook as well. I was never the child to attempt the meal preparations back home, because it seemed I was the only Kleinschmidt that couldn't cook. This, I have discovered, was a thinly veiled rouse. In fact, it was most likely sheer laziness that prevented me from entering the kitchen. Living alone, I have been thrown in the deep end. I cook or I do not eat. And, as it turns out, I was listening to those seasoning talks dad gave from his stove soap box all those years.
What I've come to understand about myself is this: I've gotten stuck into thinking I am this one person and no one else. I have these abilities, qualities, strengths, and that's that. Korea has been an exercise in upsetting those notions. So for that, Korea, I am thankful.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
From the horse's mouth
I'm sitting at my desk as we speak, listening to my coteacher speak to one of my students, let me set the scene: I called this boy to come to my office after class because he has been continually loud, messing around, just being out of control. Not too far off of an average 6th grader, but still difficult to deal with.
So, she gives this boy a firm talking to, turns to me and says, "Ms. K, don't you think this boy needs to go to the hospital? I think he has a disease! I'll get his mother's phone number.."
Oh my gosh, I am still trying to contain my laughter. WHAT?! Who says that to a child? "I think you have a mental disease". Good gracious, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
So, she gives this boy a firm talking to, turns to me and says, "Ms. K, don't you think this boy needs to go to the hospital? I think he has a disease! I'll get his mother's phone number.."
Oh my gosh, I am still trying to contain my laughter. WHAT?! Who says that to a child? "I think you have a mental disease". Good gracious, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
Monday, June 8, 2009
On the road again?
So the weather was super nice here for a long time.. until the weekend hit. And it hasn't cleared up since! overcast and humid. LAME. Give us some sunshine Lord!
But.. the real point of this post:
Calling all idealists, public servants, round pegs in square holes.. my time in Korea is slowly coming to an end, and thoughts of future adventures are looming. But this time, "adventure" means, "service work around the globe". I am beginning to jump on board with some ideas I've been having about going into international development/peace work, and now I want to get my feet wet. Take that back, I want to cannon ball in.
What I need from all you crazy ones? information. I have a few tentative ideas of places/organizations to work for in various fields, but would love to hear from you if you know of, have worked for, have contacts with great NGO's around the world that are in need of a set of hands. For a while or for a long while.
There are so many places out there that are looking for people, I want to make sure I find a place that legitimately needs some help. Plus, I'm sure some of the organizations that really need help, don't have a nice little posting on idealist.org.
So, if you know of anything, pass it my way, I greatly appreciate it.
I hope all of you back home and around the world are doing well today. I love you guys.
But.. the real point of this post:
Calling all idealists, public servants, round pegs in square holes.. my time in Korea is slowly coming to an end, and thoughts of future adventures are looming. But this time, "adventure" means, "service work around the globe". I am beginning to jump on board with some ideas I've been having about going into international development/peace work, and now I want to get my feet wet. Take that back, I want to cannon ball in.
What I need from all you crazy ones? information. I have a few tentative ideas of places/organizations to work for in various fields, but would love to hear from you if you know of, have worked for, have contacts with great NGO's around the world that are in need of a set of hands. For a while or for a long while.
There are so many places out there that are looking for people, I want to make sure I find a place that legitimately needs some help. Plus, I'm sure some of the organizations that really need help, don't have a nice little posting on idealist.org.
So, if you know of anything, pass it my way, I greatly appreciate it.
I hope all of you back home and around the world are doing well today. I love you guys.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
It's an odd place, but somebody's gotta live here
There's a man outside my little apartment building, walking around in the street, screaming something in Korean. There's not much I can do about it - my windows do little to stop the noise, and even closed, this occurrence happens so regularly, it's ridiculous to try and stop it.
It's about the right time for this to happen as well - mid week, midnight. Just as all the business men are headed home from the bars and their precious soju. I used to hate it until one night last week the drunken man stumbling around the street was singing opera rather than yelling obscenities. It was amusing.
Some of my other favorite odd things about Tongyeong:
I have now seen this occur 3 times: A mother will be with her young boy (think 2 or 3 years old) on a busy street, holding his pants down so he can pee onto the tree planted in the brick sidewalk. The last time I saw it, I managed to snap a quick cellphone pick and have been endlessly trying to figure out how to get it on here, but alas, no luck.
I'm not sure why there are painted white crosswalks because not once has a car stopped for me. Maybe they think they look nice.
The school system has some things going for it that a country like the grand ol' US of A could pick up on.. The lunch system they have here is something I really admire. These students and teachers, all 2000+ of them, eat school lunch every day at a cost of a dollar I think. For lunch we are given a bowl of soup (changes daily but always contains either seafood, chicken, beef, or tofu and is generally broth based), a protein side of the same variety, a vegetable, rice, and kimchi. And every student is required to show their empty tray to their teacher before they leave - they have to eat it all. Of course, they are given smallish portions the first time around and can go back for more of anything if so desired. You could probably multiply the calories found in a korean lunch by 3 or 4 and that would be the equivalent to school lunch back home.
Not only that, but students are served baked fish - bones, tail, etc still intact, and are assumed to be able to eat it without choking on the bones. There is no liability for serving food like this. You either figure out how to de-bone a fish using chop sticks, or you look like a fool. (I can finally do it).
This whole lunch routine here has made me realize how quick we are to blame others for our own incompetency. Point: I really appreciate lunch.
haha.. we get a foreigner's discount at the North Face store. How ridiculous.. but I'm not complaining.
Although there are no McDonalds or Burger Kings here in Tongyeong, there is no shortage of fast food. You're hungry at 2am? go to the corner restaurant and order a roll of gimbop (like sushi but not raw and often not fish) for 2,000 won (less than 2 bucks). Or head over to the hangover soup, open 24 hrs I believe (spicy noodle soup with a bone of pork meat). Either way, "fast food" here manages to be both fast and healthy. An interesting concept..
I'm sitting here with one of my favorite students, Mangil. He comes to my office every tuesday and thursday without fail to get extra help with his english. He's smart and determined. And poor. Hence why he comes to me rather than going to a hagwon after school every day. I have come to really appreciate him and the hard work he puts into learning. If only all my students cared as much..
side note: I'm headed to Shanghai next weekend to play in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament with some players from Korea. Pretty pumped. Wish us well.
Adios
It's about the right time for this to happen as well - mid week, midnight. Just as all the business men are headed home from the bars and their precious soju. I used to hate it until one night last week the drunken man stumbling around the street was singing opera rather than yelling obscenities. It was amusing.
Some of my other favorite odd things about Tongyeong:
I have now seen this occur 3 times: A mother will be with her young boy (think 2 or 3 years old) on a busy street, holding his pants down so he can pee onto the tree planted in the brick sidewalk. The last time I saw it, I managed to snap a quick cellphone pick and have been endlessly trying to figure out how to get it on here, but alas, no luck.
I'm not sure why there are painted white crosswalks because not once has a car stopped for me. Maybe they think they look nice.
The school system has some things going for it that a country like the grand ol' US of A could pick up on.. The lunch system they have here is something I really admire. These students and teachers, all 2000+ of them, eat school lunch every day at a cost of a dollar I think. For lunch we are given a bowl of soup (changes daily but always contains either seafood, chicken, beef, or tofu and is generally broth based), a protein side of the same variety, a vegetable, rice, and kimchi. And every student is required to show their empty tray to their teacher before they leave - they have to eat it all. Of course, they are given smallish portions the first time around and can go back for more of anything if so desired. You could probably multiply the calories found in a korean lunch by 3 or 4 and that would be the equivalent to school lunch back home.
Not only that, but students are served baked fish - bones, tail, etc still intact, and are assumed to be able to eat it without choking on the bones. There is no liability for serving food like this. You either figure out how to de-bone a fish using chop sticks, or you look like a fool. (I can finally do it).
This whole lunch routine here has made me realize how quick we are to blame others for our own incompetency. Point: I really appreciate lunch.
haha.. we get a foreigner's discount at the North Face store. How ridiculous.. but I'm not complaining.
Although there are no McDonalds or Burger Kings here in Tongyeong, there is no shortage of fast food. You're hungry at 2am? go to the corner restaurant and order a roll of gimbop (like sushi but not raw and often not fish) for 2,000 won (less than 2 bucks). Or head over to the hangover soup, open 24 hrs I believe (spicy noodle soup with a bone of pork meat). Either way, "fast food" here manages to be both fast and healthy. An interesting concept..
I'm sitting here with one of my favorite students, Mangil. He comes to my office every tuesday and thursday without fail to get extra help with his english. He's smart and determined. And poor. Hence why he comes to me rather than going to a hagwon after school every day. I have come to really appreciate him and the hard work he puts into learning. If only all my students cared as much..
side note: I'm headed to Shanghai next weekend to play in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament with some players from Korea. Pretty pumped. Wish us well.
Adios
Monday, May 11, 2009
Picture Update
This is Yeonwha-do Island. About a 40 minute ferry ride from Tongyeong. I'd say about 2 weekends a month the clan here heads out to hike an island or find a near by mountain to scale. This might be the coolest island we've found yet.
More of beautiful Yeonwha-do. We managed to figure out a way off the path and down to the waters edge. When we got there, we discovered there was a path down. We felt adventurous, so not a total loss.
Steve and I in the morning of the ferry to the island. As cool as these islands are, the terminal only schedules approx. 4 ferries a day. Meaning, you have to catch the earliest there and the latest back in order to have time to hike. This equals packed boats.
I wanted to show you what "sack lunch" looks like here. This is the teacher's fare.. all food made for the teachers by their class president's mothers. Not your typical PB&J.
The above pic is me looking off the cliff just shy of the summit of Mireksan Mountain (which is redundant because "san" means mountain so the actual mountain's name is only Mirek). This is the day I took 300 of my most favorite 6th graders hiking. I kicked their butts. Seriously.
Here's a group of them. Sweaty, exhausted, annoyed that they are forced to hike, and yet still throwin out the peace sign. Good kids.
These 2 pics are from the Jeju Gnarly Nines 2009 international frisbee tournament. Jeju is a very large island off the southern coast of Korea where this lovely tourney is held every year. We played of plush grass fields (there's no such thing in Korea, so this is big time), ate free meals, drank free beer, and threw some discs around in the sun shine. Korea A took home the gold, Shanghai the silver, and I believe either IKU from Japan or Big Brother from Beijing took the bronze. Please note the 2L water bottles filled with beer rather than water.
So Steve and I found this little neighborhood in our own Tongyeong that made our jaws drop. Up on this hill overlooking the harbor we found a row of houses covered in murals by artists from all over Korea. It was amazing.
We're funny... Looking. Funny looking.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Long Time Gone
Oh goodness, it has been a while hasn't it?
I guess when the ice starts to melt away and the cold dissipates, staying indoors on my computer just doesn't hold it's charm. It's now the end of April and Tongyeong is coming to life once again with sun shine, heavy rains, and beautiful flowers.
The best time of year here - before the humidity and mogis (mosquitoes) set up camp.
People are out about town with their matching track suits, white gloves, and visors; struttin their stuff like winter never even happened.
I am happy to report that it is indeed playing outside that has kept me away so long. I have finally managed to scrape off my mud encrusted cleats and take them for a play date with other frisbee loving cleats. And they are happy. Been playing some pick up in Seoul when I get myself up there, and 2 tournaments thus far: a surf and turf hat in Ulsan and the illustrious Gnarly Nines International tournament in Jeju-do. The Beach hat is next in Busan. As expected, the people that come along with finding these games have been a sight for sore eyes. I now claim buddies all over this great country (and have discovered there are some flatballers near me!).
With the start of spring has come intense exploration of my dear town. Such a small place, and yet a new nook and cranny pops up every day. The latest endeavour? Island hoping and off trail hiking (this sounds normal, but in Korea, we are the only people that do it. We are also the only people to ever hike in jeans, w/o hiking poles or compasses, all while letting the sun actually shine on our faces). We are crazy people. Yeonwha-do, the dragon island, found us sharing rocky mountain tops with families of goats, and sitting on rock formations that disappear into the clear, cold sea. It was breathtaking.
On the ferry back we were accosted by 2o-somethings trying to snap our photo without actually getting caught doing it. Not the best stealth skills. Finally they just came right up and asked, bumping colleen and I out of the pictures so they could stand in next to Steve and Adam. Sweet girls. The best part was as soon as they were given the green light, 5 other people appeared in front of us to take a few pics themselves (they were taking pictures of Koreans they didn't know getting their picture taken with foreigners they also didn't know. I don't get it).
As soon as the weather warmed and the sun started making a regular appearance, I knew the only true way to experience this place was by boat. So I was off on a quest to buy a kayak - cheap, used, still floats. Rather than purchasing one, as people here seem not to be interested, I met a teacher who's husband is a member of the wind surfer's club in town. Not only would they like me to use their kayak (longer, skinnier dingy. Not a kayak) whenever I want, free of charge, but they want to give me windsurfing lessons! I'm more than a little nervous, but we shall see... no sense in not trying right?
At the semester I was pained to find out that my beloved co teacher Crystal would be leaving for a 6 month English training course in Busan, and that I would be assigned to a new teacher. I wished her well and told her i'd have done the same, but secretly pitied myself endlessly. Well, My new co teacher, Angela, is definitely a change of pace. Some days she is so nice, and others I am infuriated with her beyond belief. She is very laid back about most things (encourages naps in the afternoon(+) and never stays a minute past 4:30(+)), and then rigid about others (will not volunteer her time to do anything outside of what her job entails). It's comical actually. We found out we didn't have to teach all day, and when word spread, a 6th grade teacher asked for help judging a science contest. An Sun said no of course, and then came back to our office and was mad that this teacher assumed she had nothing better to do with her time. Then she put her headphones on and continued watching her episode of desperate housewives..
A thought on food: Raw fish is both plentiful and expensive here, so I don't get to have a full meal of this good stuff unless an adult offers to treat me. (side note: raw fish does not mean sushi, it means, the body/meat of the fish is filleted and served in a pile of thin slices. Best eaten dipped in soy or chili sauce on a leaf of lettuce). The other night, Steve's boss took us out for a really nice meal including 3 coursed of raw fish. When the last plate came out, they served the fish like so: body still intact - head attached to the tail, middle gutted, stuffed with a bed of lettuce, and sashimi on top. As I'm digging into the slices of sashimi, Steve nudges me and points at the platter... The fish's gills were flapping back and forth in a last ditch effort to stay alive. We covered the head and continued eating.
Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is the good raw fish.
It's not fresh if it's not questionably dead.
This weekend is both Buddha's birthday and children's day, so in celebration of the kids, I will promise not to think about them once while I spend the weekend hiking through Jirisan National Park, Monday watching the International Triathlon, and Tue/Wed laying about in an act of sheer laziness. It's bound to be wonderful.
Pictures to come..
I guess when the ice starts to melt away and the cold dissipates, staying indoors on my computer just doesn't hold it's charm. It's now the end of April and Tongyeong is coming to life once again with sun shine, heavy rains, and beautiful flowers.
The best time of year here - before the humidity and mogis (mosquitoes) set up camp.
People are out about town with their matching track suits, white gloves, and visors; struttin their stuff like winter never even happened.
I am happy to report that it is indeed playing outside that has kept me away so long. I have finally managed to scrape off my mud encrusted cleats and take them for a play date with other frisbee loving cleats. And they are happy. Been playing some pick up in Seoul when I get myself up there, and 2 tournaments thus far: a surf and turf hat in Ulsan and the illustrious Gnarly Nines International tournament in Jeju-do. The Beach hat is next in Busan. As expected, the people that come along with finding these games have been a sight for sore eyes. I now claim buddies all over this great country (and have discovered there are some flatballers near me!).
With the start of spring has come intense exploration of my dear town. Such a small place, and yet a new nook and cranny pops up every day. The latest endeavour? Island hoping and off trail hiking (this sounds normal, but in Korea, we are the only people that do it. We are also the only people to ever hike in jeans, w/o hiking poles or compasses, all while letting the sun actually shine on our faces). We are crazy people. Yeonwha-do, the dragon island, found us sharing rocky mountain tops with families of goats, and sitting on rock formations that disappear into the clear, cold sea. It was breathtaking.
On the ferry back we were accosted by 2o-somethings trying to snap our photo without actually getting caught doing it. Not the best stealth skills. Finally they just came right up and asked, bumping colleen and I out of the pictures so they could stand in next to Steve and Adam. Sweet girls. The best part was as soon as they were given the green light, 5 other people appeared in front of us to take a few pics themselves (they were taking pictures of Koreans they didn't know getting their picture taken with foreigners they also didn't know. I don't get it).
As soon as the weather warmed and the sun started making a regular appearance, I knew the only true way to experience this place was by boat. So I was off on a quest to buy a kayak - cheap, used, still floats. Rather than purchasing one, as people here seem not to be interested, I met a teacher who's husband is a member of the wind surfer's club in town. Not only would they like me to use their kayak (longer, skinnier dingy. Not a kayak) whenever I want, free of charge, but they want to give me windsurfing lessons! I'm more than a little nervous, but we shall see... no sense in not trying right?
At the semester I was pained to find out that my beloved co teacher Crystal would be leaving for a 6 month English training course in Busan, and that I would be assigned to a new teacher. I wished her well and told her i'd have done the same, but secretly pitied myself endlessly. Well, My new co teacher, Angela, is definitely a change of pace. Some days she is so nice, and others I am infuriated with her beyond belief. She is very laid back about most things (encourages naps in the afternoon(+) and never stays a minute past 4:30(+)), and then rigid about others (will not volunteer her time to do anything outside of what her job entails). It's comical actually. We found out we didn't have to teach all day, and when word spread, a 6th grade teacher asked for help judging a science contest. An Sun said no of course, and then came back to our office and was mad that this teacher assumed she had nothing better to do with her time. Then she put her headphones on and continued watching her episode of desperate housewives..
A thought on food: Raw fish is both plentiful and expensive here, so I don't get to have a full meal of this good stuff unless an adult offers to treat me. (side note: raw fish does not mean sushi, it means, the body/meat of the fish is filleted and served in a pile of thin slices. Best eaten dipped in soy or chili sauce on a leaf of lettuce). The other night, Steve's boss took us out for a really nice meal including 3 coursed of raw fish. When the last plate came out, they served the fish like so: body still intact - head attached to the tail, middle gutted, stuffed with a bed of lettuce, and sashimi on top. As I'm digging into the slices of sashimi, Steve nudges me and points at the platter... The fish's gills were flapping back and forth in a last ditch effort to stay alive. We covered the head and continued eating.
Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is the good raw fish.
It's not fresh if it's not questionably dead.
This weekend is both Buddha's birthday and children's day, so in celebration of the kids, I will promise not to think about them once while I spend the weekend hiking through Jirisan National Park, Monday watching the International Triathlon, and Tue/Wed laying about in an act of sheer laziness. It's bound to be wonderful.
Pictures to come..
Monday, February 16, 2009
What Lauren Looks Like In Korea
There are some hiking pics, some jinju festival pics, and I think some new years in Seoul..
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Where is the Mosque?
Today was your typical monday morning - intermittent sleep followed by a groggy wake up. 3 snoozes on the alarm and a slow start to my day. This morning, as with random mornings (and afternoons and evenings) I heard the loud and incessant speakers blaring down my streets, proclaiming something in Korean. No idea what. Or rather, I used to have no idea what.
Before I came to Korea, I anticipated it being a country of Buddhists, Christians, maybe some Hindus thrown in for good measure. Didn't expect many Muslims though. Thus I was quite surprised when I first arrived to hear these loud speakers throughout my day - I thought (for my first two months here) that it was the Muslim call to prayer.
Well apparently the call to prayer sounds strikingly similar to the local fruit sellers who drive their trucks up and down streets, flatbeds filled with the seasonal fruit, playing their recording of "Mandarin Oranges, 1 basket, 5,000 won!"
Now, without fail, when I hear the loud speakers driving down my little street, I have a strong desire to pray on my knees, followed by a craving for fresh fruit.
Before I came to Korea, I anticipated it being a country of Buddhists, Christians, maybe some Hindus thrown in for good measure. Didn't expect many Muslims though. Thus I was quite surprised when I first arrived to hear these loud speakers throughout my day - I thought (for my first two months here) that it was the Muslim call to prayer.
Well apparently the call to prayer sounds strikingly similar to the local fruit sellers who drive their trucks up and down streets, flatbeds filled with the seasonal fruit, playing their recording of "Mandarin Oranges, 1 basket, 5,000 won!"
Now, without fail, when I hear the loud speakers driving down my little street, I have a strong desire to pray on my knees, followed by a craving for fresh fruit.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
No Children in Sight
This is a first: 2 blogs in one week! crazy.
okay, so I've been thinking about this little situation we've got goin on over here in Korea - Tongyeong specifically..
There is something wrong with the children here. They don't act like kids. There is a lack of creativity and craziness in them that just doesn't make any sense for a 12 year old. It probably doesn't help that they go to school for 10 hours a day, 6 days a week, and then do homework all night. But that's not even the worst of it. I just finished winter break here in Korea. It was wonderful! I only got about half of the time off, but 3 weeks was complete bliss and certainly nothing to scoff at. Unfortunately, when I got back to school this week and asked the kids how their break was, most kids replied with, "bad. very bad". How can this be?! 6 weeks to run and play and be silly, and they say it was bad?
Well this might be why: During vacations, students go to their academies (one for every subject), taking extra classes all day long. And then of course have homework all night. This is on top of the homework assigned by their public school teachers for vacation. They literally have no break from studying. From the time they are 6 until the time they finish high school, they will be studying continuously without one break - they do these classes during the summer vacation too. It's absurd. How do they not crack and go crazy?! No wonder there is little excitement in my students during our classes. It's because they're just off to more classes after I'm done with them.
On top of the normal subjects they study, they also generally study 2 instruments, art, and sometimes Chinese or Japanese on top of English. Beyond that, I have students (13 years old) studying computer programming. Every night of the week she tells me she spends 2 hours working on her programming homework. SHE IS THIRTEEN. Not to mention that maybe she doesn't want to be a computer programmer! What if, able to follow her own interests, she discovers she loves painting? Kids here will never know that. Their futures are set out for them way before they know how to speak up for themselves.
Even if their parents weren't pushing them in one specific direction, society as a whole manages to lock them into place. They have to qualify for specific high schools - they take a test and apply to get in. They are only allowed to apply to one school, they make it, they're in. They don't make it, they go to the local high school which, no joke, is a straight route to the reeks and wrecks, ie: manual labor.
And if all that wasn't enough, the worst offense in the thievery of childhood occurs right here in Tongyeong city: Everyone lives in sky rise apartment complexes, and thus, no child has now or ever had a backyard. The essential tool to the growth of a sturdy kid. Not one of my students (except those that have lived abroad) realize the enormity of this sad state. The backyard is where curiosity is explored, creativity is fostered, thick skin and toughness grown. No wonder these kids don't act like kids. No wonder they don't have a creative bone in their body! They've never played capture the flag or homerun derby. They haven't experienced hide-and-go-seek, making mud pies, or building tree forts (their fun is playing computer games). I am now convinced that these are the things that eventually create the artist, the lawyer, the writer. It must be, since Korea produces all computer engineers and doctors, and virtually none of the previous.
It honestly makes me hurt when I think about it too much.
So I try not to.
My only hope is that I (and YOU) remember these thoughts later on in life when there are crazy kids running through the house covered in mud claiming to be an alien from outer space. That's just plain creative. I hope I appreciate that time being a kid is equally, if not more, important than time being an adult.
If you haven't yet, read Player Piano. It's Korea to a T.
okay, so I've been thinking about this little situation we've got goin on over here in Korea - Tongyeong specifically..
There is something wrong with the children here. They don't act like kids. There is a lack of creativity and craziness in them that just doesn't make any sense for a 12 year old. It probably doesn't help that they go to school for 10 hours a day, 6 days a week, and then do homework all night. But that's not even the worst of it. I just finished winter break here in Korea. It was wonderful! I only got about half of the time off, but 3 weeks was complete bliss and certainly nothing to scoff at. Unfortunately, when I got back to school this week and asked the kids how their break was, most kids replied with, "bad. very bad". How can this be?! 6 weeks to run and play and be silly, and they say it was bad?
Well this might be why: During vacations, students go to their academies (one for every subject), taking extra classes all day long. And then of course have homework all night. This is on top of the homework assigned by their public school teachers for vacation. They literally have no break from studying. From the time they are 6 until the time they finish high school, they will be studying continuously without one break - they do these classes during the summer vacation too. It's absurd. How do they not crack and go crazy?! No wonder there is little excitement in my students during our classes. It's because they're just off to more classes after I'm done with them.
On top of the normal subjects they study, they also generally study 2 instruments, art, and sometimes Chinese or Japanese on top of English. Beyond that, I have students (13 years old) studying computer programming. Every night of the week she tells me she spends 2 hours working on her programming homework. SHE IS THIRTEEN. Not to mention that maybe she doesn't want to be a computer programmer! What if, able to follow her own interests, she discovers she loves painting? Kids here will never know that. Their futures are set out for them way before they know how to speak up for themselves.
Even if their parents weren't pushing them in one specific direction, society as a whole manages to lock them into place. They have to qualify for specific high schools - they take a test and apply to get in. They are only allowed to apply to one school, they make it, they're in. They don't make it, they go to the local high school which, no joke, is a straight route to the reeks and wrecks, ie: manual labor.
And if all that wasn't enough, the worst offense in the thievery of childhood occurs right here in Tongyeong city: Everyone lives in sky rise apartment complexes, and thus, no child has now or ever had a backyard. The essential tool to the growth of a sturdy kid. Not one of my students (except those that have lived abroad) realize the enormity of this sad state. The backyard is where curiosity is explored, creativity is fostered, thick skin and toughness grown. No wonder these kids don't act like kids. No wonder they don't have a creative bone in their body! They've never played capture the flag or homerun derby. They haven't experienced hide-and-go-seek, making mud pies, or building tree forts (their fun is playing computer games). I am now convinced that these are the things that eventually create the artist, the lawyer, the writer. It must be, since Korea produces all computer engineers and doctors, and virtually none of the previous.
It honestly makes me hurt when I think about it too much.
So I try not to.
My only hope is that I (and YOU) remember these thoughts later on in life when there are crazy kids running through the house covered in mud claiming to be an alien from outer space. That's just plain creative. I hope I appreciate that time being a kid is equally, if not more, important than time being an adult.
If you haven't yet, read Player Piano. It's Korea to a T.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Thailand: Cheers and Jeers
Just got back from 2 weeks in Thailand, here's the good, bad, and ugly:
1) Thai Airways (CHEERS)Hands down the best airlines I have ever flown, and I have been around the airline block. Let me try to paint the picture: Within minutes of take off, the crew is doing their first round of beverage service including some fairly average snack of peanuts or crackers or something. Movie begins. Immediately following, the cart makes it's second spin around the cabin with our meal - chicken or steak served with your choice of beverage (all drinks, alcoholic or non, are complimentary). I had white wine with my chicken, assorted vegatables, proscuito slices, roll, and dessert. Then they come around with either green tea or coffee. Finally they come around once more with a bottle of cognac and a tray of shot glasses for anyone interested. I didn't partake. but yes, all complimentary. All of this on a 3+ hour flight. All but unheard off from our stateside companies. If that wasn't enough, we hopped off the plane for a 30 minute break in Hong Kong, reboarded, and did the whole thing all over again (another 3+ hr flight).
2) Australia Day (CHEERS)
Although I, nor none of the chaps we were mingling with were Australian, we partied like we were. Koh Tao, Thailand - the bar: Choppers bar and grill. They sponsor a free all you can eat BBQ, stocked full of grilled chicken, steak, sausage, cole slaw, and salad. The bar is an open air place, shallow but stretching half a block. The place is packed - standing room only with no two people next to each other speaking the same language. (side note: I met more Fins on Koh Tao than I believe actually live in Finland). On stage a guy with his guitar played every classic song, overshadowed by the crowd screaming the words over him. People in swim suits and sarongs dancing on their chairs, drinking copious amounts of Singha, singing every Irish drinking song or Aussie pride song known to man. Bliss. You'd think it can't get better, but it does. Upstairs our crew has managed to stash away the corner couches that surround the dance floor. It doesn't take long for our toes to start tappin out the beat, shoulders swaying.. soon we are occupying the dance floor. And we occupy it hard. The only woman who danced longer than us was a 50+ lady in a long flowy dress. I want to be her in 30 years. The night ends with some scantily clad swimming and a well deserved hangover in the morning.
3) The Locals (JEERS)
'the locals', meaning those specifically on Koh Tao are generally kind people. Generally. However in my experience it was a very few bad apples that spoiled the bunch.
Let me recount:
Bad Apple #1:
Being that we will be living on this island for just under 2 weeks, Galen and I do the walking thing for a bit, but decide the only way to see the whole island is to rent a scooter - the chosen form of transportation on this tiny island by locals and tourists alike. We rent a bike from what looks to be a reputable outfitters next to our bungalows. We inspect it rather thoroughly and point out any imperfection to the employee for documentation.
(** Mistake #1: Travelers please take note - document the dings and dents yourself! Our problem occurs when we realize he neglected to (purposefully or not) record a scratch we end up paying heavily for)
We hand over our passport as collateral and we're off.
(** Mistake #2: Unavoidable or not (we think all the outfitters on this island require this) we agreed to use our passport as collateral only after offering money and/or other forms of ID. We don't think this is actually legal (#1) and (#2) screws you over for whatever they claim you did and thus demand you pay for.)
So, we enjoy the bike for 24 hours, go to return it only to find out they want to charge us for 2 scratches they say weren't there before (we argue otherwise). I say this only because if we had any reason to believe that it was our fault, we would have handed over the money. But.. there was nothing we could have done to cause these scratches (surface scratches on the plastic muffler cover - it would take rubbing a rock on it over and over again to get a scratch like that). It remains completely functionable, with no damage to the actual body of the bike. Never the less, they have our passport so they know they don't need to negotiate. We hand over the 1,500 Baht begrudgingly. 5 days later as we are preparing to leave for home, we walk by the bike shop and spy our bike out front. And guess what? Same muffler was still on it with that same inconsequential scratch. I'm glad we were forced to buy them a new muffler.
Bad Apple #2:
Galen and I move to a tiny, ma and pop bungalow just outside sairee beach for a night. They kindly allow us to borrow some snorkel gear to take out on our all day boat tour (only to find out on my first dive that the mask was broken and took on water worse than the titanic). Luckily, our taxi driver has extra gear, so all was not lost. Well the next morning we hand over the stuff and try to explain to the lady about the broken mask incident and how it was broken BEFORE I used it. This woman has either a) never had a constructive argument in her life, b) dealt with too many cheating tourists, or most likely, c) both. She begins screaming at us in a combination of "I know! I know everything!", "Yesterday not broken, today broken!", and "You pay now!". These phrases are yelled at us continuously without stopping for a breathe. For 10 minutes. Galen tries to calmly discuss it with her, I begin to lose it (as this is the 2nd scam I've had to deal with in 2 days) and yell back. I go back into the room to avoid saying anything else and let Galen finish the job. Well her husband/boyfriend/hired muscle picks up a brick sized rock and walks past Galen trying to pull him off the porch. He walks right by Galen, into the bungalow, up to me, holds the rock over his head and threatens to hit me with it. I have to say, I was actually scared. (Don't tell my mom this story, she may not let me leave the house ever again). We pay immediately, tell them we're packing up and leaving without paying for the next day or late check out. We left the island 2 hours later.
Traveler's note: The above mentioned bungalows: Silver Cliff resort on the north end of Sairee beach, Koh Tao Thailand.
4) Mr. Koh Tao, taxi driver extraodinaire (CHEERS)
Mr. Koh Tao and his little skiff took us all around the island to the best snorkel spots around. (I've never been snorkeling before, but this was quite amazing. Crystal teal water, brightly colored coral, sea plants, rocks, etc, and the most amazing fish I'd ever seen - neon blues, greens, oranges, purples). The little orange butterfly fish were cute - they always swam real slow and in 2, like an old couple. Mr Koh Tao, your laugh and smile were infectious, your good spirits contagious. Thanks for letting me drive the boat for a bit!
5) Thai Men (CHEERS)
You have successfully fooled me (and a lot of men) into thinking you're women. Maybe not the best drag queens I've ever seen (there's something I love about a really large man in sequence and nylons) but you certainly win the prize for best crossdressers/transvestites. I have never questioned my initial guess so many times. Kudos.
6) The Price of Island Living (JEERS)
It's expensive. And the food, booze, and accommodations aren't nearly worth it.
7) The Silver Cliff resort (JEERS)
One more time for the Silver Cliff because they were just that bad. Congratulations ya big jerks!
And to our cronies, the rebel rousers, partners in crime. You know who you are. You Scots, Fins, that English bloak, and the escapee from Canada - You are good people. You made our time what it was: full of Britney Spears and bubbles (I'm working on my cockney). Best of luck on the rest of your journeys, you will be missed. Much love from Korea.
1) Thai Airways (CHEERS)
Thai Airways, I salute you and will forever be a patron of your services.
2) Australia Day (CHEERS)
Although I, nor none of the chaps we were mingling with were Australian, we partied like we were. Koh Tao, Thailand - the bar: Choppers bar and grill. They sponsor a free all you can eat BBQ, stocked full of grilled chicken, steak, sausage, cole slaw, and salad. The bar is an open air place, shallow but stretching half a block. The place is packed - standing room only with no two people next to each other speaking the same language. (side note: I met more Fins on Koh Tao than I believe actually live in Finland). On stage a guy with his guitar played every classic song, overshadowed by the crowd screaming the words over him. People in swim suits and sarongs dancing on their chairs, drinking copious amounts of Singha, singing every Irish drinking song or Aussie pride song known to man. Bliss. You'd think it can't get better, but it does. Upstairs our crew has managed to stash away the corner couches that surround the dance floor. It doesn't take long for our toes to start tappin out the beat, shoulders swaying.. soon we are occupying the dance floor. And we occupy it hard. The only woman who danced longer than us was a 50+ lady in a long flowy dress. I want to be her in 30 years. The night ends with some scantily clad swimming and a well deserved hangover in the morning.
3) The Locals (JEERS)
'the locals', meaning those specifically on Koh Tao are generally kind people. Generally. However in my experience it was a very few bad apples that spoiled the bunch.
Let me recount:
Bad Apple #1:
Being that we will be living on this island for just under 2 weeks, Galen and I do the walking thing for a bit, but decide the only way to see the whole island is to rent a scooter - the chosen form of transportation on this tiny island by locals and tourists alike. We rent a bike from what looks to be a reputable outfitters next to our bungalows. We inspect it rather thoroughly and point out any imperfection to the employee for documentation.
(** Mistake #1: Travelers please take note - document the dings and dents yourself! Our problem occurs when we realize he neglected to (purposefully or not) record a scratch we end up paying heavily for)
We hand over our passport as collateral and we're off.
(** Mistake #2: Unavoidable or not (we think all the outfitters on this island require this) we agreed to use our passport as collateral only after offering money and/or other forms of ID. We don't think this is actually legal (#1) and (#2) screws you over for whatever they claim you did and thus demand you pay for.)
So, we enjoy the bike for 24 hours, go to return it only to find out they want to charge us for 2 scratches they say weren't there before (we argue otherwise). I say this only because if we had any reason to believe that it was our fault, we would have handed over the money. But.. there was nothing we could have done to cause these scratches (surface scratches on the plastic muffler cover - it would take rubbing a rock on it over and over again to get a scratch like that). It remains completely functionable, with no damage to the actual body of the bike. Never the less, they have our passport so they know they don't need to negotiate. We hand over the 1,500 Baht begrudgingly. 5 days later as we are preparing to leave for home, we walk by the bike shop and spy our bike out front. And guess what? Same muffler was still on it with that same inconsequential scratch. I'm glad we were forced to buy them a new muffler.
Bad Apple #2:
Galen and I move to a tiny, ma and pop bungalow just outside sairee beach for a night. They kindly allow us to borrow some snorkel gear to take out on our all day boat tour (only to find out on my first dive that the mask was broken and took on water worse than the titanic). Luckily, our taxi driver has extra gear, so all was not lost. Well the next morning we hand over the stuff and try to explain to the lady about the broken mask incident and how it was broken BEFORE I used it. This woman has either a) never had a constructive argument in her life, b) dealt with too many cheating tourists, or most likely, c) both. She begins screaming at us in a combination of "I know! I know everything!", "Yesterday not broken, today broken!", and "You pay now!". These phrases are yelled at us continuously without stopping for a breathe. For 10 minutes. Galen tries to calmly discuss it with her, I begin to lose it (as this is the 2nd scam I've had to deal with in 2 days) and yell back. I go back into the room to avoid saying anything else and let Galen finish the job. Well her husband/boyfriend/hired muscle picks up a brick sized rock and walks past Galen trying to pull him off the porch. He walks right by Galen, into the bungalow, up to me, holds the rock over his head and threatens to hit me with it. I have to say, I was actually scared. (Don't tell my mom this story, she may not let me leave the house ever again). We pay immediately, tell them we're packing up and leaving without paying for the next day or late check out. We left the island 2 hours later.
Traveler's note: The above mentioned bungalows: Silver Cliff resort on the north end of Sairee beach, Koh Tao Thailand.
4) Mr. Koh Tao, taxi driver extraodinaire (CHEERS)
Mr. Koh Tao and his little skiff took us all around the island to the best snorkel spots around. (I've never been snorkeling before, but this was quite amazing. Crystal teal water, brightly colored coral, sea plants, rocks, etc, and the most amazing fish I'd ever seen - neon blues, greens, oranges, purples). The little orange butterfly fish were cute - they always swam real slow and in 2, like an old couple. Mr Koh Tao, your laugh and smile were infectious, your good spirits contagious. Thanks for letting me drive the boat for a bit!
5) Thai Men (CHEERS)
You have successfully fooled me (and a lot of men) into thinking you're women. Maybe not the best drag queens I've ever seen (there's something I love about a really large man in sequence and nylons) but you certainly win the prize for best crossdressers/transvestites. I have never questioned my initial guess so many times. Kudos.
6) The Price of Island Living (JEERS)
It's expensive. And the food, booze, and accommodations aren't nearly worth it.
7) The Silver Cliff resort (JEERS)
One more time for the Silver Cliff because they were just that bad. Congratulations ya big jerks!
And to our cronies, the rebel rousers, partners in crime. You know who you are. You Scots, Fins, that English bloak, and the escapee from Canada - You are good people. You made our time what it was: full of Britney Spears and bubbles (I'm working on my cockney). Best of luck on the rest of your journeys, you will be missed. Much love from Korea.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Desperate times
I've come down with a little flu. I call it the 'winter time blues' flu.
It's been lingering around for a bit now; never too bad to keep me in bed, but just enough to make my smile dim a bit.
Symptoms include but are not limited to: fatigue, boredom, increased: annoyance, bickering, complaining, frustration, etc etc etc.
This seasonal bout of blues is brought on by many things, different for each of us. At home I'd say lack of sun is the lead culprit, and being that home is seattle, it's a devilish one. Here in Tongyeong, the sun falls to fifth of sixth on my list.
1) Tongyeong is the smallest city I've ever lived in - equating to little (read: NO) nightlife, excitement, fun. Bowling holds me for a bit, but isn't quite the pique of excitement.
2) It's frigid cold here. Sunny during the day, but cold none the less. To make matters worse, they don't heat the schools but little. The rationale is 2 fold:
- They (heard from one person) believe that sickness is brought on (or sped up)
when the body goes from a hot environment to a cold one. Thus, it is for the health of the students and teachers to be as cold inside as we are outside. (side note: galen told me the other day that a study done on learning environments showed the number one hindrance of learning was .... being cold.)
- The government controlled energy company (the only company) has recently changed their billing system. Now schools must pay a fixed amount every month. However, this amount is equal to the highest usage month of the year, and if you use more than that amount, the new high becomes the new monthly payment. No one seems to think this is unfair. Odd because I smell a monopoly of the worst kind. A government run monopoly. Do not pass go, do not collect 200$
3) Being that I live in a rural town, the closest thing I have here to international cuisine is pizza covered in corn and peas. Man what I would give to have a subway here. There's nothing like a sandwich to curb that hunger for home.
4) Time difference from home is just right that I can't call anyone when I have free time unless it's the weekend.
5) And finally lack of sun.
This build up literally caused me to question being here just days ago. I headed to Seoul for New years and it was like a slap in the face reminding me of what I was going back to. I can't imagine ever getting bored in Seoul. Fantastic clubs, restaurants, shops.. enough foreign people moping around to avoid the 'white girl stare'. I had sharwarma for the lunch. Middle Eastern food. Ahhhh...
So I went through all my options. Leave after 6 months and pay for my own flight home, move up to seoul and get a job up there, look into 3 month gigs in Tokyo, skip out after my 6th month mark and head straight to Spain. The possibilities were both sweet and enticing.
But wait.. There is a light at the end of this long somber winter tunnel. I can hear it on the horizon and feel it on my nose - winter is waning. And with the end of winter comes the beginning of a divine life of beach front living. Tongyeong may suck in the winter, but I've staked out the executive spot for island beach bumming. Soon I will be hard at work laying still and absorbing rays. until then.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that I'm head to Thailand at the end of the month for a 2 week 'relaxation therapy session', meaning, I won't be more than a 2 minute walk from: the beach, the bar, the hammock at all times.
So as all moments of weakness are, this was just a moment. We'll see if I crack under pressure again.
Adios.
It's been lingering around for a bit now; never too bad to keep me in bed, but just enough to make my smile dim a bit.
Symptoms include but are not limited to: fatigue, boredom, increased: annoyance, bickering, complaining, frustration, etc etc etc.
This seasonal bout of blues is brought on by many things, different for each of us. At home I'd say lack of sun is the lead culprit, and being that home is seattle, it's a devilish one. Here in Tongyeong, the sun falls to fifth of sixth on my list.
1) Tongyeong is the smallest city I've ever lived in - equating to little (read: NO) nightlife, excitement, fun. Bowling holds me for a bit, but isn't quite the pique of excitement.
2) It's frigid cold here. Sunny during the day, but cold none the less. To make matters worse, they don't heat the schools but little. The rationale is 2 fold:
- They (heard from one person) believe that sickness is brought on (or sped up)
when the body goes from a hot environment to a cold one. Thus, it is for the health of the students and teachers to be as cold inside as we are outside. (side note: galen told me the other day that a study done on learning environments showed the number one hindrance of learning was .... being cold.)
- The government controlled energy company (the only company) has recently changed their billing system. Now schools must pay a fixed amount every month. However, this amount is equal to the highest usage month of the year, and if you use more than that amount, the new high becomes the new monthly payment. No one seems to think this is unfair. Odd because I smell a monopoly of the worst kind. A government run monopoly. Do not pass go, do not collect 200$
3) Being that I live in a rural town, the closest thing I have here to international cuisine is pizza covered in corn and peas. Man what I would give to have a subway here. There's nothing like a sandwich to curb that hunger for home.
4) Time difference from home is just right that I can't call anyone when I have free time unless it's the weekend.
5) And finally lack of sun.
This build up literally caused me to question being here just days ago. I headed to Seoul for New years and it was like a slap in the face reminding me of what I was going back to. I can't imagine ever getting bored in Seoul. Fantastic clubs, restaurants, shops.. enough foreign people moping around to avoid the 'white girl stare'. I had sharwarma for the lunch. Middle Eastern food. Ahhhh...
So I went through all my options. Leave after 6 months and pay for my own flight home, move up to seoul and get a job up there, look into 3 month gigs in Tokyo, skip out after my 6th month mark and head straight to Spain. The possibilities were both sweet and enticing.
But wait.. There is a light at the end of this long somber winter tunnel. I can hear it on the horizon and feel it on my nose - winter is waning. And with the end of winter comes the beginning of a divine life of beach front living. Tongyeong may suck in the winter, but I've staked out the executive spot for island beach bumming. Soon I will be hard at work laying still and absorbing rays. until then.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that I'm head to Thailand at the end of the month for a 2 week 'relaxation therapy session', meaning, I won't be more than a 2 minute walk from: the beach, the bar, the hammock at all times.
So as all moments of weakness are, this was just a moment. We'll see if I crack under pressure again.
Adios.
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