Bleeding

I know I just finished saying how I was going to put life updates on pause, but that was because I thought my new life experiences were going to be at a minimum, having been in Korea for a year and a half now.  DANG!  Wrong.

Today, I went to the nurse's office because I felt sick.  If I had been in the States, I probably would have called out of work this morning, but Korea has changed me.  Instead, I pulled on a pair of jeans rather than a dress (if I'm going to work sick, I'm at least going to be comfortable) and walked myself to school.  I popped some vitamin C and some NAC, forced down some light food to keep the supplements in my system, and taught my first class.  But, 3 hours into the day, I still didn't feel better, so I made my way to the nurse.
I'd been there once before for nausea.  There's this drink here that helps with that, and that's what I wanted.  I had to put up with some pressure-point prodding, but it ended with the drink, so I returned, hoping for the same thing.  Oh, was I in for a surprise.
I was feeling pretty good about myself, despite my gurgling stomach, as I explained why I was there and answered her questions (or at least what I'm pretty sure was her questions) all in Korean.  She told me to have a seat, which I did.
As I waited, I watched her systematically prick each corner of a student's nails.  She'd squeeze some blood out, and the student squirmed.  I looked up what she was doing on my phone, because I could tell that it was some sort of basic Eastern remedy, and I was curious as to what it would cure.  Of course, I ended up at the blog of that Korean culture guru, The Korean  (TK).  He explained that this was done to improve circulation, fighting a certain type of indigestion.  I filed it in my brain next to "leeches," and I moved on, waiting for my drink.
Unfortunately, the nurse decided that I had the same type of indigestion. [Insert unhappy face here.] So, I also was bled.  Honestly, it wasn't the worst experience of my life.  I don't know if it'll help anything, but it doesn't hurt (too much) to try it once, right?  Actually, what hurt was the pressure-point prodding that happened after the bleeding.  It was much more extensive than the first time I went to see her, and I did NOT like it at all.  Finally, she covered me with a bunch of little pressure-tape things (I think they're an alternative to acupuncture) and gave me instructions to massage them tonight at dinnertime and tomorrow morning as well.  I'm not sure my skin will put up with an adhesive for that long, but we'll give it a shot.

Suddenly, I feel like I can relate to my old literature classes so much more.  But... before I left, she did at least give me the drink, so all my efforts were not in vain.  However, she seems to be getting progressively more aggressive when I go, so I'll probably think more before returning in the future.

Indonesia: Mt. Bromo

Most of my time in East Java included getting up incredibly early, feeling sick because of the hour, then hiking somewhere.  I barely recognized myself, because none of those things sound like me.  However, I forgave myself, because I got to see some really cool things.  As well as seeing the Ijen Crater, I went to see Mt. Bromo, a very active volcano/tourist trap.

We actually got hiking before dawn to see the sun rise over Mt. Bromo.  That was a bit nerve wracking, as we were walking up lava-tracked roads in the literal pitch-darkness.  One wrong step, and I would slip down into the deep craters left by lava from a recent eruption.  Considering that I couldn't see anything, that happened really frequently.

At first, I didn't realize we were there for the sunrise, so I got a little frustrated, waiting to move on, but I figured it out eventually.  It would have been really awesome, but the morning was so foggy I couldn't see the volcano.  What I did see was really pretty, though.  

Sadly, the fog turned into rain before I really got going on the day, so most of my photos ended up looking like this:

Look closely and you'll see my first glimpse of Mt. Bromo.

Needless to say, we're going to be relying rather heavily on my descriptive abilities.

I was pretty excited about Mt. Bromo for a couple of reasons.  1. It's constantly active.  The most recent eruption was the month before I saw it.  2. It's a much shorter hike than Ijen.  3. I got to ride a pony for most of the hike.  The negative was that it was below freezing.  Boo.  The hotel let me rent a big puffy coat, but I think I got the one that had been in the rain before, so it was very lumpy.  It was also several sizes too big for me, so it was not my most favorite of fashion statements, but it kept me from getting sick, thus it accomplished its goal.  It did not, however prevent me from getting soaked.

My soaked self, my pony, and a temple near the volcano. 

Incidentally, that was the last time I got to use those gloves.  A man from Portugal now has them, due to a bit of a miscommunication.  It's a bummer, but I hope they're keeping him warm, since my cousin worked so hard to make them!

Since the volcano had recently erupted, the entire area was brown and barren. There were deep tracks from where the lava had been.  As I rode my pony across it all, heading for an active volcano, I couldn't help but feeling like I had landed in Middle Earth and was on my way to storm Mt. Doom.  A 10th grade math test/over-confidence fiasco taught me never to hum epic movie themes in semi-dangerous situations, so I kept myself quiet this time, but, had that not happened, I would have probably been humming some Lord of the Rings throughout this adventure.  (PS. I wasn't the only person who was feeling connected to Tolkien; most people brought it up at some point during their time at the volcano.)

When the pony could go no further, I was presented with a massive set of stairs that led to the mouth of the volcano crater, where I bought a bunch of flowers to attempt to toss into the lake below:

Although stairs aren't my greatest pleasure in life, I think they're much nicer than having to deal with a hill on hikes like these.

The only guard rail was to keep you from falling into the volcano, which, while I appreciated that the park coordinators didn't want me accidentally sacrificing myself, wasn't always helpful when the wind wanted to push me over backward.  Many places were very narrow, so, once I found a spot that felt decently safe, I rooted myself to it and didn't budge until I was ready to go.

A new Korean man I met took a picture of me and my "sacrifice" for me.  Korean is turning out to be a more useful language than I originally anticipated.

Legend has it that there used to be a kingdom near Mt. Bromo.  The kingdom's princess married a young man, but they could not get pregnant.  She petitioned the gods, and they answered her prayer, telling her they'd allow her to get pregnant, only if she agreed to sacrifice her final child in the fires of the volcano.  She agreed and was able to have children.

I didn't hear if she followed through with her promise or not, but now, every year on August 4, the local people have a festival for the legend.  They buy flowers and dolls to try to throw into the volcano so as to protect their land.  (***EDIT 3/4/13: My friend Mark told me the rest of the story today - He's currently living in Indonesia, so I'm sure he's heard this a lot: The queen refused to sacrifice her youngest son, but when he became aware of the deal, he jumped into the crater in order to protect his village/family.***)

Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I annoyed whatever god decided we needed to throw stuff into the volcano, because I failed miserably.

My flowers landed close enough to the top of the volcano that I probably could have climbed down, grabbed them, and tried again, like one Korean man near me did.  However, it was very windy, and I didn't feel like tempting Mother Nature, so I left them were they were (the bottom right corner of the left picture).

Basically, Bromo was this incredible experience.  Ever since I was a child, I had a ridiculously irrational fear of volcanoes (I blame it mostly on the movie Volcano and some children's book I read, which, in combination, left me thinking that a volcano could randomly sprout under my feet at any given moment).  I still vividly remember some of the nightmares I had about volcanoes.  I swore to myself that one day I would face that fear, and I was able to do that with this trip.

I touched the acid like and handled molten sulfur at Ijen.

I climbed up the side of an active volcano and threw things into its depths at Bromo.

I am one volcano-fear-conquering lady, and I'm incredibly proud of myself.

MOTh: Day 13

3 Gifts Behind a Door

At this point, I'm pretty sure they're just stretching for these, but, nonetheless, I will complete this challenge... in my own arbitrary pace, as the case may be.

1. I'm thankful for the cabby that was right behind the door to the outside this morning.  I'm also thankful for the particular cabby that was behind the cab door.  With Kris and Cora's wedding rehearsal tonight, I definitely had my hands fool on my way to school (today is a "no rest for the weary" kind of day).  Normally, I have to walk halfway to school and then call a cab from a landmark they'd recognize (my apartment building isn't big enough for them to know it), but today, there was one at the red light outside.  I definitely thanked G-d for His small miracle on that one.
2. I'm thankful for the apartment behind my door.  Despite the bunny smell (which is really bad now that the heat's come on), despite how small it is, despite the fact that it's not really good for entertaining company, I have a roof over my head and a warm, safe place to sleep at night.  There are MANY people who can't claim that; I have no room to complain.
3. I'm thankful for Jeff, Terry, and Jenny, who sit behind a certain door at KNU.  They work their butts off to help all of us here, and they are so often taken for granted.  Our program is unique in that it has people like them to help us out, and, man, do they HELP us.  I feel like they're there to help me every time my eye twitches.  They put up with all of us when we run by at the end of the day, tired and grumpy.  They put up with us when we're panicked.  They put up with us when we're frustrated.  They put up with us letting down our cultural appreciation shield.  And, yet, I've never heard one of them badmouth us.  They deserve some sort of Nobel Prize for that, I think.

An art museum that would make Mary Lennox proud - Hoam Museum

On Saturday, we went to Hoam Art Museum as part of a cultural trip that KNU arranged for us.  There was an inside, too, I just didn't like it as much; I wasn't in a museum-y mood, especially after the outside was so invigorating.  So, I hope you enjoy what I did choose to capture. :)

(I Remember)

Evette and I had early morning orchestra that day.  We were both so tired.  We found later that we had the same reason for being so exhausted -we'd both spent the night dreaming strange dreams, and we both spent morning orchestra debating whether or not to tell the other about them.

The rest of the morning passed in a half-eyed blur, until it was time for lunch.  Seventh grade ate so early that year.  I generally made a habit of peeking in the classrooms as I walked past, and that say was no exception, but only one classroom was worth noting.  There were several women in it, holding each other and crying.  I remember clearly my reacting thought: "Someone's son must have died."  I don't know why that was my thought.  I don't know why it was "son" and not "daughter."  I don't know why it was death and not illness or some other entirely unrelated tragedy.  But there it was.

We went to lunch, where I finally revealed my dream to Andy.  My whole dream had been a kind of white-lined sketch on blue paper.   It was a perfect replica of New York City; I recognized it from the trip I had taken there the previous April.  Suddenly, an airplane entered the dream and flew into a Twin Tower, which proceeded to topple over onto the silent city.  I remember entering the dream at that point, rather than observing it.  I was on the ground, feeling the shadow swallowing me, looking up in terror at my impending death.  Then, I woke.

No one put much stock in my dream.  I had weird dreams all them time.

We had to hurry to our next class: American History: Reconstruction to Present Day.   The room was eerily silent, especially for a middle school.  We took our seats to notice that the TV was on.

"The administration doesn't want me to show you this," the teacher said. "But you deserve to see this.  Your children will study this in their history classes.  I can't be a good history teacher and not show you."

And then we watched the burning towers crumble to the ground.

In his shock, the teacher said, "I guess the Empire State Building is the biggest again."  I was horrified.

Cathy went to the pay phones at the front of the school and called her mom, who picked her up.  I was furious that my mother hadn't shown up to sweep me away, but I, to this day, still don't know why I wanted to leave.  It's not like she could provide any more sanity to the world.

She did pick me up, though, at our normal Tuesday afternoon meeting time.  I was hoping she'd tell me that my piano lesson was cancelled for that day; I didn't feel up to it (not that I ever did), but she took me straight to the church.  She wanted me to have normalcy.  I started learning the song Sanctuary, which I, in turn, played a month later in church, on my family's last Sunday in that city.  It seemed so ironic it was sickening.

I was angry.  I was angry for having normalcy forced on me.  I was angry for having fear forced on me.  I was angry for my life spinning out of control.

Not even bothering to drop off my school things, I went to the basement, took out some paper and water-color paints, and began flinging color across the page, imagining it was someone conveying my anger to the people who I felt were causing it, impaling it into their souls and out of my own.   I think my mom still has those paintings.

I remember.

Vacation: Istanbul

A long, long time ago, I sat next to Mr. JoshTaylor (of Blimey Cow) in Fine Arts class, where he criticized my eating habits a lot.  Somewhere along the line, his message got through to me, and I now adhere to many of the rules he tried to instill into me, but I wouldn't dare then!  I'm not one to do what I'm told. ;)  But my obnoxious stuborness isn't the point. While JoshTaylor and I were in that Fine Arts class, we were shown pictures of many things that I thought for sure I'd never get to see.

Things like

Westminster Abbey

The Wedding Feast at Cana

The Code of Hammurabi

But, in the end, I clearly saw them, and that realization was so overwhelming that I cried.

So, when my search for plane tickets to the U.S. turned up the chance to stop in Istanbul and see Hagia Sophia, yet another item that made my Bucket List, thanks to Fine Arts, I jumped at the chance (plust the $1,000 cost reduction from what I'd been looking at beforehand).

The results were two new friends I made on the plane and coerced into joining me, an invitation to the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, and THIS:

Entering Istanbul at sunrise

My first glimpse of Hagia Sophia

Alman Çeşmesi (German Fountain)

Blue Mosque

Hagia Sophia again

The ceiling of one of the mausoleums in Hagia Sophia

A beautifully spirited street vendor

At this point, I would say that Istanbul is neck and neck with Mainz for my favorite city that I've visited.  I would surely love to try living here sometime.  What a breath of fresh air to start out my journey!

What I've done since then

The following is what I've done since my epic display of my gastrointestinal pyrotechnic abilities.

First, I'd like to say I've discovered a newfound respect for nice anorexic people.  I'm not saying that to encourage people to be anorexic.  Don't do it.  It's not a good life choice.  I'm saying it because I ate so very little this week, and found that it's exhausting and makes it nearly impossible to be nice to anyone. It's not a good place to be.  But, on Friday, I started eating again and felt a LOT better.  Well enough, in fact, to go see The Dark Knight Rises with my friend Megan.  Let me tell you, it was most excellent, and I think you should go see it.  I so strongly feel that way that I did my nails to show my support for the Batman.  


That being said, I also want to extend my deepest sympathy to the families of the people who died in the recent tragedy surrounding this movie in Aurora, CO.  It's horrific, and It brings tears to my eyes to think of anyone involved. Violence is never the answer, friends.  Only G-d can ordain the loss of life, and He ordains few to orchestrate that.

On Friday, I also received my Korean name (finally) from a friend who works in my favorite skin care store near the mall.  She decided that I should be 행복 (Haengbok) in Korean, which means "Happiness."  I like it!  She's so sweet. :)

Saturday was my productive day.  With the help of Josh Broward's wife, I dropped off my dress at the dry cleaners to be altered for Meret and Casey's wedding.  We then went back to la casa de Broward and played with a couple babies.  That was fun.  Following that, it was off to work for my final adult English class of the semester.  We Skyped with my friend Greg, who is always great in his efforts to help me teach however he can.  After class, one family offered to drive me home, which I gratefully accepted, although I managed to leave my phone in their car.  After managing to meet up with them again to get it, we agreed to meet the next day for me to take them to the nearby English-speaking church, led by none other than the previously mentioned Josh Broward.  I finished the day with some cleaning and comic-drawing, along with some TV-watching.

Today, I met up with my friend Nick for breakfast at McDonald's.  Now, before you judge me, this is maybe the fourth time I've been there this year.  Currently, they have various "Taste of [Continent]" specials, in honor of the Olympics.  We opted to try both Taste of Americas.  One was an Egg McMuffin with Canadian Bacon (mine went to Nick), tomato, and lettuce.  The lettuce was just what this hot day needed.  The other was your classic McDonald's giant pancake breakfast platter.  Once it was sausage-free, I enjoyed it immensely.  


Recently, I found something I really liked about this McDonald's.  When I ordered my food to go, they handed me this timer and asked me to flip it.  They guaranteed my food hot and in my hand before the timer ran out.  As you can see, they came quite good on that promise.  Maybe I'm just too American, but I must say, I like it when my fast food is incredibly fast.


I met up with the family from English class immediately following McDonald's and off to church we went.  The kids had a blast at children's church, which I think made the experience for everyone involved, although, for me, I thoroughly enjoyed meeting's Cora, Kris' girlfriend, who just moved here... YESTERDAY.  I found myself just smiling, smiling, smiling, because I was so happy to see them safely reunited here.  It's a weird feeling for me, as I'm not much of a romantic, but maybe it's because they weren't being too mushy?  I don't know.  I'm just glad CORA'S HERE!!!


After church was some much needed Mt. Fishtail, with the ever lovely Rashell, Taylor, and Becky.  Pretty much the whole church ended up deciding to lunch there, though.  Okay, I exaggerate, but still... I really like the idea of going out to eat after church.  It was sort of a tradition my family had as I was growing up, and it makes me feel more like Sunday when I get to do it.  Yes, the weekly luncheon at Yeshuat Yisrael is wonderful, and I wouldn't trade it, but that's definitely a Saturday feeling to me.  Sunday calls for some fellowship in a restaurant.  But that may just be my opinion.  If you've made it this far and can follow instructions, why don't you drop me a line and share what makes Sunday feel like Sunday for you?

Rashell and I stayed late, talking at the restaurant and then walked around a bit.  I broke my brown sandals (sad!), so I will need to do some shoe-shopping in the States when I come (happy!).  I took an afternoon nap, and - wait for it - did Rosetta Stone today!  Stuff makes a lot more sense on that thing, now, which is awesome.

And now, you are quite caught up.  I hope you had a great weekend, too!

Lent: Zero

***Don't forget to sign the petition (and this one too!) to save refugees from North Korea!***

Blessing #17 - Intercession

It's like I was saying to Tyson (yes, that's still the one with the changed name) the other day, "Sometimes, there are days when you just can't find what to be thankful for.  On those days, I thank G-d for being G-d, and I let the Spirit intercede where necessary."  He agreed.  Sometimes, that's all we've got.

I learned what I believe to be the truce spirit of intercession when I spent some time at the Abbey of Gethsemani.  I got to visit with a group at my school.  One night, I woke up with an upset stomach and couldn't shake it enough to get some sleep, so I started wandering around.  I heard a noise in the hall and followed it, realizing that it was about time for an early morning service that I had read about to start.

It was maybe two in the morning, but not one of those monks looked to me like he'd rather be somewhere else, although I certainly decided that I would about halfway though.  But then, they got to the prayer portion of the service.  They talked about how they prayed at that time, because it seemed possible to them that no one else in America would be praying at that time, and they didn't want that.  They prayed for so many things - the war, the government, individual members' concerns, and they prayed for our group, noting the name of our school and adding in blessings and their desires to see us grow spiritually.

They didn't even know our names.  We had spent our time observing their general vow of silence (which was rarely broken, except for things like service).  They didn't know us, but they prayed intercessions for us.

I like thinking of that night when I think of intercessions and the Spirit interceding for us when we don't know what to pray.  G-d is so good to us.

What moment shaped your faith the most?

Lent: Heartsick

***Don't forget to sign the petition to save refugees from North Korea!***

Blessing #5 - A roof over my head

Today was my last teaching practice for TESOL.  All I had to do was prepare and act out a story, equipped with props and strong characterizations.  I picked a story I drilled into myself (and everyone around me) when I was little: The Three Little Pigs.  This is a story I could tell in my sleep, if I wanted.  For props, I collected a bundle of sticks, some hay - straw - from my rabbit's stash, and a bag of rocks that I wedged out of the frozen earth this morning.  Except, I never meant to have rocks at all.

Yesterday, on the way to church, I found some broken bricks at the construction site across the street from my apartment.  I grabbed them, but realized that I was making a trip to Seoul right after church, and I didn't want to be lugging around bricks all day - although I finally could have answered "yes" when someone asked me if I had bricks in my purse, which may have been extremely gratifying.  But I digress.  My solution was to leave my broken bricks with a whole one that I found a few meters later.  I figured that no one would mess with a couple stray bricks.  I was wrong.

When I went to retrieve the bricks this morning, there was no sign of them.  Confused, I panned out and began to radiate from the spot I thought I'd left them, figuring I'd just remembered wrong.  Something about a bottle to my left caught my eye, and I went to get a better look.  Upon closer examination, I realized that the juice bottle was tucked neatly under a black plastic bag, almost as if it was a doll, snuggled into a made up bed.  Then I noticed an interesting layering of rocks nearby.  But black seemed like such an odd color for rocks.  Then my eyes landed on the distinctly circular hole in one of the rocks, and I registered it as a fragment of broken brick.  Finally, I began to put it all together.

The juice bottle was, in fact, marking a bed, the train bridge overhead serving as a decent roof.  The black rocks were not rocks at all, but rather the remains of a fire from last night, serving as a substitute for walls.  My bricks had gone to protect the bed's occupant from being burned to death.  I shivered.  My bricks had certainly been put to a better use than some silly story telling.

Today's Lenten Calendar entry (click on the title) suggests that today we give away something that is adding to the clutter in our lives.  I think I just found a good home for some blankets that have been slowly overtaking my couch.


When was a time that G-d reminded you that everything here belongs to Him, and we are simply stewards, waiting for Him to claim it back?

Can an Elephant Jump?

I'm 90% certain this is a fourth grade class.  For your viewing pleasure:

I'm not going to lie... it got hard to do that every morning for this past month... mornings + exercise + Anne = akdsjhgfakjdbgbeaprghasdjlkgadfjlkhgjkadbfljkgnaerkjhg.

<3

선운산

This past weekend, I went on a retreat with many of the teachers from my school, including the principal and vice principal.  Needless to say, I was intimidated.  I had a suspicion of how things would go down, but I tried not to let my pre-conceived notions of Asian relaxation activities get the best of me.  Unfortunately, my pre-conceived notions, in this case, were waaaaay below the mark.  I had no idea what was coming for me.  In case you are unfamiliar with these rumors, there was a lot of drinking on this trip, and I will leave it at that.  But, not to worry, I stuck to my scruples and maintained my morals (how's that for alliteration... I've got to prove my worth as an English teacher somehow, especially since my spelling is not cutting it today).

Unfortunately, it was this weekend that my mind chose to alert me to the severely introverted side of me that likes to come out on the weekends.  (If you already knew that, feel free to gloat now.)  I'm still hesitant to fully label myself introverted, but I'm definitely seeing the tendencies.  So, the Friday night 2-hour dinner and 노래방 (Which is very nicely defined on this page after hitting control/apple-F and searching "norebang') proved to be my definition of stress.  However, the Saturday morning hike up 선운산 (산 means mountain, 선운 is its proper name) was almost perfect.  I would have preferred it to involve a lot less chatter, but I'm finding that my Korean friends have a lot to say.  I'm debating if that's a cultural thing or if it's a my-friends thing.  I'll get back to you on that if I come up with a decision.

As with many mountains here in Korea, the hike ended at a Buddhist temple, and I found my friends to be correct: once you've seen one Buddhist temple, you've seen them all.  This one was not nearly as peaceful as the other, though, and I was struck by how many Hindu symbols were all around.  I'm beginning to think that the two have gotten mixed here, as Buddhism was turned from a lifestyle into a religion.  But I'm no Buddhism expert; I'm just making an observation.


All that being said, I think my photos (which will enlarge when you click on them) can speak for themselves from here. ;)