Loose Feet

I have finally arrived and have begun to settle into my life in Asia. I got in safely after a very hectic last night in Montreal around 6:00 pm Seoul time - in other terms, 5 a.m my time. Needless to say, my brain was barely working, but there were friends around to help me get into my apartment and to even take me out for a beer at a local bar just down the street from my house, a little English place called Jacoby's. I've had a fairly warm welcome into the city, despite the fact that I am fairly overwhelmed by it all...I'm not even sure how to begin.

I live in a small 2 bedroom apartment in downtown Seoul, in a neighborhood called Haebongchon. It's quite close to a district called Itaewon, which is one of the more famous areas of the city, known mostly as the foreigners district. Taking up much of the street is the American military base, which I got a tour of. It's enormous, taking up probably 6 or 7 blocks. I almost feel bad for these soldiers, as they don't have much to do with their time. The Korean government is getting rid of the Itaewon base next year - apparently turning it into a park, which, when translated, means condos. The soldiers don't get much of a chance to involve themselves with the city, as they use American currency and have their own restaurants on the base. It's still strange, though, when I walk by and see enormous brick buildings with barbed wire at the top so close to my house. The rest of the population is made up of Nigerians, Russian prostitutes, English teachers such as myself, and, of course, Koreans. In just a few short days, from both my observations and in speaking to other people, I'd have to say that Nigerians have it the worst. Korea is technologically very advanced, but socially, they are about 50 years behind. In many ways, they hold strong racist tendencies (this is most, of course, not all). There are a few bars which have signs in the windows saying 'No Nigerians'. There is change coming, which they are feeling as Seoul gets more and more diverse. But it is one of those traditions that hangs on, sadly...Other than that, most of the English teachers are very friendly. It seems that everyone knows everyone else, one big community which is a nice thing to enter in to.

Of course, as you may well know, Seoul is disgustingly hot. It's probably 80 or so degrees (30 for you Canucks) but with the humidity the temp goes up to about 100 (40). You sweat and drink and sweat it out and drink. A neverending cycle. Of course, Asians don't sweat so they don't mind it, but it's just killing me. I have to carry a bandana around everywhere I go to wipe the sweat off my face - and it's impossible to sleep at night. Lisa, my roommate has airconditioning. I don't yet, unfortunately, but the school I'm working for is paying for a fan for me so that's my main goal for tomorrow. Koreans also believe in this thing called Fan Death - they think that the fan chops up all of the oxygen molecules, inevitably making you suffocate - so all fans come with a 1 hour timer on them. Every hour, you have to reset the fan...Of course, you can't leave the windows open, because the mosquitos will come and steal all of your blood...Made that mistake once and now I look like a chess board so I've decided it's better to just sweat it out.

I spent my first day touring around alone. Went to the Changdeokgung Palace that had once been destroyed by the Japanese but then restored in the 17th century and was the main center for 270 years. It has a secret garden in the back that is absolutely stunning, and was in fact named a UNESCO heritage spot. Absolutely gorgeous. Also went to the Deoksugung Palace, which has seen a number of Kings - most particularly King Gojong, who proclaimed Korea as the 'Great Han Empire'. It's a mix between the old and the new with a great art museum on the property. One thing that's great about Seoul is that you can be walking down one of the busiest streets in the city and walk into these old palaces that are so quiet and reserved, with beautiful gardens and trails to walk through. I love that.

I have also been in to my School, the W Institute (W for Wise and Wide, seriously). It seems nice. There are 4 Korean teachers and 3 English teachers. I'm taking over for an American teacher who is going home to try out for the CIA...We have 80 kids in total and the biggest class will probably be 6. The kids are adorable. They take on English names and they love having nicknames. One of the cutest kids, Kevin, told me he likes to be called Heavy Kevi, a name my friend and co-teacher Lisa made up for him. They're energetic and ready to learn and talk and think which is great. I start next Wednesday, and I'm nervous but I think it'll go well. The school did, of course, give me a strict dress code - no sandals, no shorts, and of course, no nose ring which did break my heart, but is something I figure I'd have to do at some point or another (it'll go back in on the weekends, however...) I have one month of summer intensives from 9-6:30 pm in August (as Koreans don't think their children should have summer relaxin', only summer studyin') then summer break (4 days), and then in the fall we teach from 3-10 pm. I was worried about having to wake up so early (as I live an hour away from the school) until I realized this morning, after finally getting over the damn jet lag, that there is a man who has a bullhorn loudspeaker who comes right next to my house at 7 a.m every morning going 'BANANASBANANASBANANAS'. Guess everyone does have to make a living.

I'm living out the monsoon season over on this side of the world. It rains every day, generally for about half the day. Weather forecasts will tell you it's going to rain - but never when it will rain - just some point during the day. And so you'll be walking down the street and a downpour will come out of nowhere, leaving you soaked until the sun comes back out and bakes you with the heat. It's an ongoing cycle that I'm struggling to get used to, in all honesty. I know I sound like I'm complaining, but you have to understand my perspective. It may be hot and sweaty and Canada, but here, weather seems to enjoy pushing itself to the extreme and watching the humans suffer under its wrath. It's definitely an adventure.

Anyway that's about it for now. I'll have more later. I have the day off tomorrow so I'm headed out to Insadong where all the artists live. Apparently there's a wicked market there and I need to spruce up my room for the next 6 months so I'm hoping they will have some good stuff for me.

There are entire novels dedicated to questioning what moment it is that will exactly draw the line between childhood and adulthood. I think, for me, it was that second when I found out that my parents too have weaknesses. Whatever it may be. My parents were always the ones who I held on to with both hands, who I could always turn to when things looked grey.

Don't get me wrong. They still are those people. Just...now with weaknesses. Dealing with some of the same problems I'm dealing with. So suddenly we're not on pedestals, we're on levels, and I'm more worried then I've been before. It makes me feel icky, and I never thought I'd use that word at 23.

Huh.

My mom recently told me of a story that was crammed into her head when she was young - probably my age. According to someone, when you hear the sound of a train whistle as it passes, it's a sign that the weather is going to change.

This idea of connection, of bringing random elements of the world together in order to infuse all lost meaning back into our lives is a good one, I think. It's a necessary move that has taken us all too long to turn towards. I'm hard-pressed to identify one nihilist who actually changed things for the better. They may be remembered, but more often than not (I find) it is for who they are (their words) rather than what they are (their actions). A good dose of optimism will scare the shit out of some people, but in the long-term, will benefit the whole. So, yeah, let's connect.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going here. I guess that's why I know I'll always struggle to be a writer. I have literary ADHD, whether I'm reading or writing what's on the page...Back to square one, then. The funny thing is, when my mom told me that story, I couldn't help but reply that I had heard the train go by our house many times before and had never noticed a change in the weather. More often than not, the connection between my brain and my tongue goes dead and I allow cynicism to get the better of me. It's a terrible trait, and I hear it's degenerative, failing to give me hope for my later years.

Still. I heard the train go by while I was lying in bed tonight, thinking. And just for fun, I jumped out from between the sheets and checked the weather. GD. She might just be right. We're looking at thunderstorms tomorrow. And here I thought the beautiful sun and summer were here to stay.

Gotta find the train schedule...

Spring is in the air. I feel it, I know it, I believe it. Despite the grumbling on the street over the 'sudden' appearance of rainfall, everyone else knows it's coming too. Really though - this is Montreal, not Hawaii. Flowers don't just pop, they must grow from roots that chainsmoked underground during the winter. It makes them 10x more beautiful though, I promise. With the spring comes the arrival of my wonderful Greek neighbours. They've spent the entire winter hibernating amongst themselves, eating pogos and hating on the world. But as soon as it gets nice out, they'll open the door and toss all their crap out onto their porch and begin the wonderful love-hate tryst we've been working on for about 2 years now. I've always wanted to ask them (mid-screaming fight) why they chose to move to the Plateau in a student building when they hate young people so much. (And I mean hate). Unfortunately, I don't think they'd understand me. This is what diversity gets me.

Second question to pop into my head when downing coffee and porridge at 10 am. I wonder why it is that when I walk down the street and smile at a person, I get very strong reactions - in two different ways, unfortunately. Women often shy away, or even frown and look down, as though if they smiled back my original form would melt away and I would become the ugly purple-people eater they've always worried about running into on the street. Please...And in the majority of occurrences when I've smiled at men, they turn right and around and start making sexual advances. Since when did hello become such a heavy question?

(Ah yes, and we return to the pen and penis fetish that has been plaguing scholars for too many years. Kidding.)

Right. My fantasy. I smile at the man on the street, he comes home with me, next thing you know there are beautiful babies and trips to Disneyland and meetings with grandparents. This is how you and I both wanted it to go. Anyway. I just wonder why such small actions are so hard to pass on to people. It's not contagion, it's just being nice. But maybe that's too much for some people right now.

Incase you do want to see how I learned to finally grow up. (Hasn't actually happened).

http://amaroo.livejournal.com

No judgments.

In an attempt to push the burden of work aside for one more day, I returned to an old journal I wrote in during highschool. It seems my thoughts were a lot more romantic back then, and in many ways, a lot more creative. Years of droning professors have sapped every ounce of imagination out of my brain. Or at least, that's how it feels this late in the game.

Perhaps the best line of my teenage years..."Today I stuck my finger in my ear and my brain paused for a second." Still happens from time to time when I'm using Q-Tips.

Can't do this. Back to work. More about Opportunity: Seoul! (sounds like a fantastic television show doesn't it?) to come tomorrow.

In only 28 days (which my time calculator so quickly converted to 2,419,200 seconds) I will be presented with the ultimate title, that which will, according to the textbooks, take me to places I could have never before dreamed of. I will be...drum-roll please...a college graduate. Five years, millions of last minute tutors, thousands of cigarettes, coffee cups and oven baked pizzas later, I have jumped through hoops and will receive the diploma that will define me as a working-class woman in this grand world. I'm excited, and you should be too.

So in honor of this momentous occasion, I thought it time to join up with the vast network of internet lovers out there and begin my own blog. No need to prepare yourself. In many ways, it will be the same moaning and groaning you could experience in only two seconds of chatting me up outside the bar. But then, I guess I don't care. It's not for you.

Soon I'll be leaving for Seoul, to begin my journey across the continents and it would come as no great surprise that if I carried a journal, it would just happen to fall out while in front of the Korean McDonald's, or even drown in the street gutter. It's best, then, for you - or perhaps just for I - that I allow myself to engage with this online journal of witty repartee, if only to remember my experiences while on the road (and then compare them with Kerouac and redefine the entire notion of cool).

This is the beginning. But not the end.