Let's talk Culture: Part One

To state the obvious. . .my favorite thing about travel is discovering a new culture. . .what the average day is like, the people, the art. . .and most importantly the food--food is an integral part of a culture. (I get this from my mom. . .whenever, I am somewhere new, her first question is, what is the food like?)

Early on in my travel career, I found that the cultures most unlike my own were the most fascinating. . .England is nice, but it's kind of like the States only slightly askew. . .Western Europe. . .beautiful and full of history, but no big challenges. . .However, Nicaragua, Panama, Turkey. . .now, they were different. . .there were major cultural differences and many challenges to overcome while adventuring into them. . .and that is one of the major reasons I chose Southeast Asia, as a new travel destination. . .but this time. . .it's not just travel. . .this is full immersion into a new world for me, and I am finding the differences to be major, but also the similarities are intriguing. . .

So, let's talk obvious differences. . .first the language--there aren't "letters" just characters. The vocal stress is not on the consonants but rather the vowels, and to me it sounds like singing. Truly, I am mesmerized when a Korean starts talking to me. . .I feel like I am suddenly privy to a private musical performance. (Certainly doesn't help when I am trying to order food, and I just stand there stunned, but the ladies at my favorite restaurant Kjm Pasa, are quite used to my odd behavior at this point). . .

Which brings me to food. . .food defines a culture. . .not only what they eat, but how they prepare it. I do not pretend to know how food represents a culture, however, I know from experience that all cultures (whether you are in small town america or in an obscure village in Nicaragua) people are always proud of the food from their world. I know I love sharing true southern biscuits and gravy with others. . .Korea is no different. They are proud of their food, and they love to talk about it. . . .whenever you talk to Korean about their cuisine, the first thing they ask is, "have you had Kimchi?" (for those who don't know, Kimchi is fermented cabbage that is very spicy and served with every meal) Simply put, it is delicious, and extremely good for you. . .Koreans are quick to point out that when the Avian Flu broke out in SE Asia, Koreans didn't get it, and when scientists did a study to see why, they found it was the fermentation process of Kimchi that strengthened the Koreans' immune system. . .the next thing a Korean asks you when discussing culinary delights, is "do you like spicy food?" Korean food is very spicy. . .I love it, but many find it is too hard to handle. . .and if you are vegetarian, eating becomes much more difficult. . .the Korean palette is focused around beef and seafood. . .Although Bibimbap, is probably my most favorite meal, and it consists of rice, veggies, and seaweed. It is important to note, I am still getting to know Korean cuisine, but so far, I am in love with it. . .and I am sure I will be writing much more on it. . .

In other culture news. . .

Walking. Seems simple and straightforward. For those who don't know, Korea was colonized by Japan in the early 20th century, so they adopted a lot of the Japanese ways. . .one of them being walking on the left hand side. However, about 2 years ago, the Korean government wanted to make Korea a bit more westernized, and so they attempted to change this walking pattern. . .not quite sure how it happened, but this is what I imagine. . .

There is a super secret meeting late at night. Top Korean officials decide everyone should walk on the right side. So (without notifying a single citizen) they release their henchmen, who wear all black and ninja masks, into the subways and on to the streets. In one night, they change all the walking arrows from the left side to the right side. . .

The result. . .the following morning, Koreans, ready to start their day, descend upon the streets and subways. . .they are greeted with new arrows beckoning them to walk on the right side. Instinct screams "NO!!" Rational thought says, "YES!!" Instinct and Rationale are at an impasse. Body flutters and stalls out. . .The society as a whole pauses. Necessity kicks in and everyone begins to walk, however, in that moment, society becomes divided into traditionalists and followers. . .mass confusion ensues and the people are left with no sense of where to walk.

Basically, Koreans do not know where to walk, and so westerners (such as myself) find themselves walking down the middle of hallways and sidewalks, hoping not to run into anyone. . .

The sidewalks bring me to another point. . .cars. In the States, and most countries I've been to, sidewalks are meant for people who walk to their intended destination. . .not so much here in Korea. . .here, when a car driver no longer wants to deal with the streets he simply pulls up on the sidewalk and goes where he needs to go. . .pedestrians are considered nuisances. . .so a pedestrian is not only playing Frogger as she crosses the street, but also as she walks along the sidewalks. . .

Therefore, I am not only avoiding confused Koreans who are not sure where to walk, but I am also avoiding whole vehicles who are tired of playing road politics. . .combine this with my severe lack of coordination, and we have a charlie chaplin film to say the least.

Then we add old ladies into the mix. . .from what I've gathered through observation and conversation, elderly ladies reign supreme in this land. On one hand, this causes me great joy. . .on the other. . .a huge amount of stress. You do not want to cross an old lady, because each one feels it is her right to beat sense into you using her cane or her purse or whatever. . .this has yet to happen to me, but I waiting for my time to come. Of course,this tradition makes daily life interesting. . .My first day walking down the streets of Daegu, I saw elderly women blindly walking into traffic. . .at first I felt the need to rescue them, but then I realized. . .they are fully aware of the traffic, the blowing horns, and the yelling drivers. . .they just don't care. They know people will stop for them, and that they have earned that right. . .and so they walk into the street carrying on their conversations with each other, and calmly show their disdain for the drivers and their obnoxious horns. . .having discovered this cultural nuance, I find myself hovering about the old ladies as I walk to work. . .I get there in half the time, and their talking offers a music accompaniment to my steps.

Another cultural nuance is that alcohol/social drinking is a high priority. . .I certainly can embrace a society that believes in social debauchery. . .after 6PM walk into any restaurant and it is a robust environment--full of energy and conversation. . .people talking and laughing and drinking, and just letting go of there day. Yes please! However, when this cultural nuance bleeds into traffic. . .a slight discomfort arises. . .since drinking is so accepted and encouraged, many taxi drivers imbibe throughout their shift, combine that with the sidewalk being open driving territory, and you get really stressed pedestrians. This culture distinction certainly makes you wonder about he sidewalk--i mean is it drivers who hate traffic, or drunk drivers who could care less. . .Either way, it certainly makes the walk home an interesting adventure. . .

And with that. . .I am done for now. . .Needless to say, the culture is certainly different, and it will take more than one blog, and probably more than one lifetime to really compile and express it. . .

However, I do find it mesmerizing, inspiring, enlightening, and some what confounding. I am so glad we humans are all so different, and I feel fortunate to experience different parts of the world. I encourage you all to travel and experience. . .it is crucial to our growth and survival.

and so a quote. . .

"He who is different from me, does not impoverish me--he enriches me. Our unity is constituted in something higher than ourselves--in man. . .for no man seeks to hear his own echo, or to find his reflection in the glass." -- Antoine De Saint-Exupery.

be well my furry friends.

Arrival and a Friend

I arrive in Daegu.

The trip here was relatively uneventful. As soon as I found out I passed training, I signed my contract and they loaded me and my luggage on to the KTX train bound for Daegu. The KTX is the bullet train, and it is super fast, and a sweet ride, especially when you are booked in a first class seat.

The Korean country side is eclectic but quite beautiful. We passed cities, mountains, farms, and many many rice fields. Many people were working their fields, with nothing more than a hoe. . .and they all seemed to be solo jobs. . .there was never more than one person working in the middle of an enormous field.

As the sun set, my train pulled into the Daegu station, so I strapped on my backpack grabbed my extremely heavy suitcase and headed off the train. . .there waiting for me was what can only be described as a flight of stairs akin to Mt. Everest. . .so, I giggle to myself and begin the process of slowly working my way up the mountain with an ocean of people flying past me, knocking me, and of course tripping over my obnoxious sized suitcase. Suddenly out of no where a man who seemed to be in his sixties comes up grabs my suitcase and begins to fly up the stairs with it. I stood their stunned, by the sheer strength and speed of this man twice my age, and then realized it is my bag he has and I run up after him. I reach the top of the stairs at the same time he does. . .he places my suitcase down, bows to me and takes off. I stammer out "kahm sahm nee dah" (thank you) after him, but he is already gone. . .I stand their in awe, not quite sure what to do next. I guess I should find the person I am supposed to meet. . .

I turn around and there is Philip, who is charged with picking me up from the station. Philip works for Chungdahm, and his english is what he calls survival english. . .but it is still quite good. He brings me to my home.

Home.

A place of my own.

It is brightly colored and has what I like to call "a home start up kit"--a box with a towel, a plate, a spoon, chopsticks, and soap. I have a wall full of orange and pink flowers, and the brightest pinkest comforter with huge green and purple flowers. . .it is incredibly tacky and I love it.

The next morning, I get a knock at the door. I am still in my jammies, a bit smelly from yesterday's travels, and I have pimple cream dotted in my problem areas. I wait for a minute, hoping the knocker will go away, but they continue to knock. I have no choice. . .so I stumble to the door. Of course, it is not a regular key operated door, it is electronic, and i have no idea how to open it. So, I tug on the handle, push buttons, and do just about everything but still the door won't open. . .and all I can think is who is on the other side and what must they be thinking. I can't really call out, because most likely there is a Korean on the other side of the door, so I struggle with the door for about 3 or 4 minutes, and then finally, I come across the one button in english. . ."open/close". . .idiot!. . .push the open, and wah-lah. . .the door opens. Then. . . .then. . .I realize (as I am staring at this very puzzled Korean man) that I still have the pimple cream on my face.

"Do. . .uh. . .you say English?"

"yes" (I say with marked relief)

"No. No. say Korean?"

"oh, No." (with marked disappointment)

"uh. . .my toilet. . .do you have tool?" (He makes a plunger gesture)

"No. I. . . .just. . .moved (stupid hand gesture). . .in. . .last night (other stupid hand gesture.) Sorry?"

"Okay." (he bows and leaves.)

So, that wasn't terrible. . .if only I had remembered to wash my face! Oh well. . .so it goes. I settle back to unpacking, and 10 minutes later another knock comes to the door. Oh great. . .now what, at least the pimple cream is gone and I know how to work the door handle. . .

There at the door is the same sweet Korean man. This time holding donuts and milk, and says it is for me. For me? I didn't even have a plunger. . .I didn't do anything, but smell bad and look crazy. But it would be rude not to take it. . .and well, it is donuts. . .So, I take it. . .and invite him in. (of course, i broke major korean protocol on accepting the gift right away. . .you are supposed to refuse a couple of times, then accept it with both hands) Yeah, I didn't refuse, and took it with one hand. . .(me and my silly american ways). . .but like a polite american, I invite him into my messy yet humble abode. He comes in, I clear a spot at the table and ask his name.

His Korean name is Pyon. . .his English name is Chris, and he has been wanting a foreign friend so he can learn english. . .I told him I've been wanting a Korean friend so I can learn Korean. So, now we are going to help each other out. . .we both had our translation books out and we talked about movies and music and our families. . .he in English and me in very bad Korean. . .(for the record, the Korean language puts a lot of emphasis on vowels and not so much on consonants. . .it is very difficult to say properly). Chris said that most Koreans are scared of foreigners because they (Koreans) can't speak English, and that I am very lucky to already know it, because it is a language of the world. Wow. . .that simple statement makes me even more happy to be doing what I am doing. . .I am helping people communicate. . .Chris said he gets so frustrated because he can't say what he is thinking in English. . .(I told him I have that problem too).

Self reflection moment. . .I find it interesting that everything I teach or find interest in centers around self expression and communication. Theatre is a way of expressing ideas and feelings through the body and tongue and teaching english is not just teaching people the right words, but it is teaching them how to critically think and express their ideas in english. I find expression to be profound. . . it seems that life centers around finding a way to communicate. . .the mute/deaf learns sign language, the blind learn braille, the bees dance, the dog barks, and we continually create devices to heighten our communication capabilities.

It's interesting to find communication at the center of my life--a girl who couldn't bare to talk in high school on most days.

So, I have a new Korean friend, even though I was smelly, in my jammies, and quite hideous when I met him. . .

I also went to the school, met my fellow teachers. . .drank lots of soju (rice wine) and beer, and ate some great food.

I do love this life. . .I love the generosity of the people around me, the culture, and the beauty. What's interesting is I do miss my people, my culture, and the beauty of my own country. . .but my desire to experience this culture counters that longing. . .for now.

and so a quote. . .before i let you go. . .

"What would it be like to have not only color vision but culture vision, the ability to see the multiple world's of others." --Mary Catherine Bateson

blood, urine, and a hole

Today was the first day of training. . .I had four tests and insight to the rest of the week.

I had studied hard, so the tests went relatively smoothly. I passed them all, and proved that I do know a bit about my native tongue. Once that was over, I was confident in the rest of my day. My fellow trainees came in all different ages and from all over. We have some Koreans, Kiwis, and Canadians too! The most interesting thing, is that Katrina and I are the only ones who don't already live in Korea. . .the other trainees have been living in Korea for some time. . .so lucky. . .

After a brief introduction to each other and the coming week. . .it was off to Seoul Medical Center, and then things go interesting, if not disturbing.

Working for Chungdahm requires you go through a basic medical examination to make sure you are in good health and not a drug user. It seems simple enough, right? But then, this is my life and things are never quite that simple.

Let me set the scene. . .

Korean hospitals are state run, so it is much like walking into a DMV. You walk up, take a number, and wait for it to be called. Patients are all over. . .in gurneys, hooked to IVs and sitting in chairs. The hospital jammies they get to wear seem quite comfy, and I was hoping to get a pair, who knew they were actually in my future. Upon entering, an interpreter comes up to us, and tells leads us through the first few steps of paperwork and passports and photos. There was a lot of shuffling of papers. . .then he tells us to follow the red line up two floors, and we will be told what to do next. The red line ends in a room where, a woman tells us to follow the green line. . .

Green line to a door. . .sign that says "out to lunch".

So we wait.

wait.

wait.

Eventually, the door opens and a lady comes to gather our papers and tells us to write down our name and passport numbers. (at this point, I would like to mention how thankful I was for the two fluent speaking Koreans in our group, otherwise things would've been a lot messier). Then they call us in and the testing begins.

The first room is simple stuff-- height and weight, vision and hearing, and blood pressure. The only hiccup during my visit to this room was after the blood pressure the nurse asked me to stand up, and as I did she shouted at me something else, so I thought I miss heard, and sat back down, then she shouted at me a little louder, did a hand gesture that seemed to say stand, so again I stand up. Then, she shouted at me again, so I quickly sat back down. . .then more shouting. . .more standing. . .shouting. . .sitting. . .We played this game for about 2 minutes (my interpreter was gone--why was I all alone now??). Stand up. Sit down. Stand up. Sit down. Maybe this was another test?? A sense of humor test perhaps?? Definitely passing because all I could do was laugh, and laugh hard. . .finally I realized she was saying blue line when I stood up. . .she just wanted me to stand up and walk to the blue line. (Korean hospitals are very big on color coded lines) After this incident, I made a note to be with my Korean speaking friends at all times for the rest of the tests. . .

of course, I am never that lucky.

Green line to the x-ray room. . .

Asked to remove my clothes and put on a fancy yet oh so soft shirt (not the stylish jammies the other patients got--but perhaps its cuz I'm not Korean citizen paying taxes towards those comfy jammies). It was x-ray time. Typical. . .nothing exciting. . .just more shouting. I wish I could explain that I am not deaf. . .and I am not ignoring them. . .I just don't understand a bit of what they are saying, and I do know I am to blame for that. Maybe this is just a form of punishment for being an idiot foreigner? I wish they knew there was no need to make me feel like an idiot, I already do that fine all by myself.

Red line to the blood specimen room. . .

Taking of the blood was not so bad. . .then I was handed a cup told to go into the bathroom and pee into it--the cup. Seems so incredibly simple. I have completed this task multiple times. . .So, having drank two nalgenes full of water, I walked confidently into the bathroom, and then into a stall. However, instead of finding a porcelain throne to awkwardly pee into a cup over, there is just porcelain hole in the ground. I stand there for a minute contemplating the situation. . .so in this public restroom with people coming and going, I have to crouch over a hole, hold a cup underneath me, and pee. WHAT?!!? No!!! There is no way I am going to be successful! I am the most uncoordinated individual, and they are asking way too much of me.

After staring at the hole for a matter of minutes, I realize I have no other choice, what else can I do. . .but manage. So, I begin the uncomfortable process. . .everything was going okay, until I realized that the vein in which they use to extract blood was not quite finished giving of itself and was pouring down my arm into the cup, and all over the porcelain hole.

That little vein just kept on giving. . .

and giving. . .

and giving. . .

so now I was precariously balanced, pants down, trying to hold a cup full of urine, clean up blood, and finish peeing. . definitely regretting the 64 ounces of water I was so proud of consuming prior to entering the bathroom. . .I slipped and slid. . .fell on my knees. . .tore my pants but eventually completed the task. . .too much more detail will cause you to want to rip out your mind's eye, so I will stop there. . .Cleansed myself and my area. . . and then put my urine in a basket in a hallway, exposed to the elements. . .most likely contaminated by my own blood, and I will probably have to take the test tomorrow. Only 32 ounces of water, and no taking of the blood prior to the test.

Good times.

Following that debacle. . .Katrina, Mee-ha, and I made our way to Insung-dong. . .a beautiful market street. . .had some delicious tofu and seafood and kimchi. . .I do love dining at Korean restaurants. For them it is not only about taste but color. . .simply put, it is always a beautiful and elegant and most importantly CHEAP. Using metal chopsticks is definitely proving to be difficult. But Mee-ha gave us some great pointers, as well as laughed at us. It was perfect.

Well, I am exhausted and I have some studying to do. . .

and so my furry friends. . .the quote I leave you with is this. . .

"you grow up on the day you have your real first laugh at yourself." --ethel barrymore.

What the f&%! Have I done?!

There is something about 24 hours of travel time, and the sun being up for the entire journey. It does something to the body and mind, makes it go a little berserk.

It seems strange, but while traveling I don’t put much thought into the where I am going. I research the place, decide what to bring, and then get on a plane. The decision has been made, and so I go. And while traveling to the destination, my only thought is connection flights and so forth. . .so as we made our final descent into South Korea, I began to feel the full weight of my choice. I am living here for a year. I don’t speak the language. I don’t know a soul. I am completely alone and away from everyone I know and love, and not only am I away from them, but I am completely disconnected from them—there is no quick text to say “hi! Thinking about ya!”

Nothing.

Completely Isolated.

I am lost.

It’s like the first day of high school but highly concentrated. I don’t have the right clothes, the right look, or the right words. Everyone instantly knows I don’t belong. As I look out the window of my descending plane, I wish for one thing. . .just let it crash, then I don’t have to go through it. I don’t have to be overwhelmed with fear and insecurity.

I can just die.

Just crash plane.

Crash!!

Realizing a mid-air collision is highly unlikely, I search the ground for clues about my new world. I find myself finding things to comfort me—ooh, they have buildings! Something in common. Ooh! Power cables! Water! Ooh! Grass! This offers a modicum of comfort. The plane inches towards the ground. I must have a look of confusion and nausea on my face because the person sitting next to me seems to ask if I am okay, or they could be asking me to move my head, I don’t know. . .because I don’t speak the language! Idiot! Why oh why am I here?! Who does this?! Could I just land, and go buy a ticket home and say, Just Kidding!? Probably, but do I really want to? Do I really want to stay?? Sort of. I mean why not stay?

So, I go back to the basics.

Smiling. Smiling is always good. A smile is universal.

Take each step at a time. First get off the plane. Then immigration. Then baggage. Then ATM. Then transportation to hotel.

With each step it becomes a bit easier. I become a bit more confident, and I find myself feeling stronger. I am a bit out of my mind because of my complete and total exhaustion, but that is beside the point. I must and will get to that hotel, and then I can sleep. My exhaustion must have shown on my face. . .i must have looked like an easy target. . .I go and get money out of the ATM, and then a man comes up and asks where I am going. Hmmm. . .do I trust him?. . .he is little enough, I can take him if he tries anything. I am not so much worried about being violated or robbed--it is being taken advantage of that I hate. Paying way too much for something that every person in the “know” avoids. Well, being tired and alone, I tell him where to. He grabs my bag and says come with me (however, it was Korean. . .). . .Despite the possibilities of what he could've said, I follow because I have no choice at this point. We get to his taxi, and I get in. I ask how much. . .he says points to the counter, and I realize that it is cumulative. Okay. . .this shouldn’t be too bad.

Famous last words for a first timer.

The ticker starts going, and boy it just does not stop. I realize half way through the trip I hired a private car. I am actually in Incheon, which is a good distance from downtown Seoul. . .so, I end up paying $130 for a ride. Pretty steep and pretty stupid on my part, but I made it to the hotel. I check in, get to my room and all is good. I may have been foolish, but it was a mistake, and it is a mistake I can live with. . .now, when I get down to my last dime before my first paycheck, I will be cursing myself and that little ol' man. . . but for now, I can live with my stupidity. . .I do everyday in fact.

Upon getting to my room, I learn I will have a roommate. I can’t really complain because I am getting the room for free after all, plus it will be nice to hang out with someone in the same boat as me.

As far as roommates are concerned the fates smiled on me, and granted me a good hearted woman full of adventure. Her name is Katrina, and we just got done having one of the best first days in all my years of travel.

We got completely lost, laughed the entire time, and then finally conquered Seoul’s mass transit system. We discovered the Children’s Grand Park, which is extremely Grand! Full of monkeys, and penguins and botanical gardens, and it is equipped with its very own Fairyland, Parrot Village, and Dancing Fountain.

We also discovered that if you plan to where sandals you should bring a pair of socks so that you can eat in restaurants. Here, a lot of restaurants have floor seating, so you are required to remove your shoes. We found one restaurant that had both floor and chair seating, so we had a delicious bowl of soup. Katrina had dumplings and I had Special Beef Soup—the cow knee and dates make it special. It was tasty. . .full of textures I had never experienced before.

So far so good. Now, it is time to study for orientation tomorrow, eat some dinner and sleep.

Today's quote: "It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been known of young people passing many, many months successively without being a any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue either to body or mind; but when a beginning is made--when felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt--it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more." --Jane Austen

And so the journey begins

The last two weeks were a bit insane. Let it be known it is difficult to move to another country. There are visas involved, which require interviews and an exponential amount of paperwork. Once the government is fine with you entering their country and taking up residence there, then there is the research and studying of the country so as to develop a comprehensive list of what you must take. Of course, some might say that the research should begin before deciding to move to said country. . .but what would be the fun in that?? I say pick the country, buy the ticket, and then figure it out, then you test your flexibility and more importantly your open mind. For example, I discovered that South Koreans do not use tampons.

Once again, being a woman is inconvenient.

This bit of information poses an interesting dilemma. . .do I embrace the culture fully and throw my feminine comforts and habits out the window and adopt wearing a mattress between my legs once a month for a year? After all, full immersion into a culture is embracing their traditions and habits, right? After much debate (okay , 2 minutes), I decided, that our planet is bound for globalization—the mingling of cultures and traditions—therefore, I will mingle my western feminine habits with those of traditional Koreans. That does not mean I will force tampon usage onto every woman I meet, although I do think it would revolutionize their world to discover the convenience of a tampon. . .but that is not for me to do. . .I will simply and discreetly use my protection of choice and carry on.

The other insight into Korean culture that I found fascinating was that single women my age are looked down upon and disrespected. Excellent. Not only do I have my own insecurities about being single and 31, but now I have an entire culture—an entire nation—against me. That will do wonders for the self-esteem. Fortunately, I never put much stock into people disrespecting me and not liking my choices. That is one of the gifts of being an artist. Very early on you have to accept that not everyone is going to like what you do, and you have to be okay with that. I am okay with people not liking what I do. After all, many people don’t like me going to Korea, many people don’t appreciate my absolute disgust for gum, and now a whole culture won’t appreciate my status as an independent woman. So, it goes.

I discovered many other things about the Korean culture, but I am sure there are so many things that will reveal themselves in humorous and probably unpleasant ways. I resign myself to the fact that I will mess up, I will probably get random tickets. . .but my hope above all hope is that I do not offend and that I approach every awkward situation with sincerity and humor, which by the way, I think is how we should approach all things of life.

I’m just glad I don’t smoke. . .if you are woman smoking in the streets, anyone can come up and slap you in the face. I would probably hit back and then be arrested. A person smokes to ease nerves and relax, and to have a person slap you while enjoying a cigarette is just wrong. . .that’s like having a massage and right the middle of it someone putting on Kenny G and scratching their finger nails down a chalkboard while telling you, you look fat. Yep, that equals slapping someone across the face while smoking, and if someone were to do that, then I would go ghetto on their ass with any thought.

But it’s a different culture, and we must accept these differences. In fact we must embrace them, and cherish it.

It’s sound so easy and divine doesn’t it?? I know it will not be, but I am looking forward to the challenge.

Another challenge to this whole adventure is relearning the English language. Did you know we have terminology for every single word in a sentence. There is not just a noun and verb! Apparently, there are things called gerunds, past participles, and progressive clauses. I am in the midst of relearning all of these words, their function, and how to teach it. I wrote an entire thesis last year. . .I am writing this blog, and all my verbs and nouns agree (for the most part). . .and I can tell you when a sentence is wrong and how to fix it, but to actually know the why’s and the how’s of sentence structure is daunting. We learn all these things, pass the test, and move on. . .we don’t remember the terminology because it is useless information. It’s like driving, once you know when and where to signal you do it without thinking, you no longer need to know the rules because their intrinsic. English is clearly intrinsic to me, and relearning my native tongue has become quite the stresser. But, I did write a thesis, perform a show, deal with roommates/friends abandoning me, and still managed to obtain a Masters with a 4.0 gpa, good friends, and my sanity. So, relearning English and teaching it to some cute Korean kids. . .well, all I can say is bring it!

And so. . .here I am in the Charlotte airport, waiting to board my plane. I just kissed my parents and dog good bye. I do hate leaving them. Realizing the mortality of your parents is a scary thing. . .I realized it a while back, but now it has become this silent ghost that haunts my mind. Their lives are out of my hands. . .but connecting and loving is in my hands. That offers a lot of comfort. . .thank goodness for Skype. I don’t know if I would be able to live this life without computers truly. . .to be able to connect makes traveling easier. . .it truly does.

The first boarding call has been announced. . .first San Fran, and then Seoul. . .

I leave you with this quote today: "No man should travel until he has learned the language of the country he visits. Otherwise he voluntarily makes himself a great baby-so helpless and so ridiculous." --Emerson (Should've taken that advice to heart)

a countdown begins

Here I am back at home. . .

New York was amazing. The theatre intensive extraordinary. Oddly enough being fully immersed in Shakespeare solidified my desire to go to Korea. I now know I made the right choice.
How? You ask. . .How can studying Shakespeare make you want to go live in a foreign country where you will most likely be away from all things theatre? Or maybe you are asking why you decided to wear that shirt you have on. . .but since this blog is about me and my choices. . .

Shakespeare's plays are universal. . .it's something we hear all the time. He had this uncanny way of presenting life in its purest form, there is no hobbly-gook gunking it up. Actors aren't forced to wander through the text trying to find meaning. Instead the rhythm, the words, even the choice of letters guides them into their character's emotions and minds. It is quite exquisite. Being immersed in such an amazing form of language, surrounded by people from all over, and being taught by a woman with extraordinary tales of lessons and adventures, I found myself in a state of awe and anticipation of the world around me. I've said it a million times. . .my experiences whether they be good or bad or mediocre feed my art, and the experience of full immersion into another culture is just not one I can pass by. I know I need it. . .why? I don't know, but I usually don't, and find comfort in that.

With that said. . .I leave in two weeks.

Fear is creeping through my veins and he is being fed by doubt and uncertainity. Traditional pre-adventure jitters mind you. . .but I'm not going to another country for three weeks or even three months. . .this is a year. A YEAR. One whole year. (again my preoccupation with time--this is truly a new development in my psychosis)

Still, I am impassioned.
(clearly, my duality disorder is in full swing)

I have a lot to get done, and a lot of people to see. I kept thinking I had more time here at home, so I didn't put special emphasis on seeing people. . .and now I may miss out on reconnecting with people I hoped to connect with. Alas, the old tenet "live today like it's your last" sneaks up on me. . .and it's funny because I do try to do just that--in each of my plans for my next life step--which is so not the point of the tenet. I should always be in the moment. . .mindfulness. . .mindfulness. . .mindfulness. . .wherever you are, that's where you are.

Hmm. . .that paragraph offers an interesting insight that doesn't make any sense right now, but I believe it is a burgeoning epiphany (yes, there is such a thing in my world).

No definite closure today, but then again, there never really is with life. . .

and so I leave you with a quote from my friend (who is in the midst of an existentialist period right now). . ."there are no right or wrong choices. . .just choices. . .the "wrong" surfaces from a lack of commitment to the choice." (it was something like that any way).

Be well my furry friends. . .and if you don't think you're furry, have a look at your arms and your head. . .

life altering dilemmas

So, here it is March, and I haven't posted in a while. . .guess I'm not off to a very good start. . .

A lot has actually happened. At the moment, I am in New York City. I arrived today for a weekend intensive in Shakespeare. I am excited, anxious, and petrified. I have been out of the theatre realm for three months and three weeks--not by choice, but also by my own fault. After my last gig I decided to go home and rest and see my family. My family is a huge mess, and I've been out of the loop for quite awhile. Some days I believe going home was a mistake--I guess most people do. In going home, I decided that income was important, and so I got a job--as a server.

I am 31. I have an MFA. I am a server. I live with my parents.

Needless to say, I've slipped into a bit of a depressive mode. So, with my extra income I decided to come to NYC to embrace the theatre world for a weekend and learn some more about this art I love so much.

Upon arriving. . .I wandered around the city absorbing the energy of the people, the buildings, and even the garbage. There is an intensity in New York that feeds me. Perhaps because it is the first city I moved to all by myself at 19. I knew nothing, and just went for it. . .the city gobbled me up, spit me out, and then took a dump on me, but I survived. I went home, took a long shower, and went back to school to get my degree. But, I always had the memories of surviving New York. That accomplishment led me to do other crazy things, like backpack through New Zealand, Costa Rica, Panama, and Nicaragua. . .tromp through Turkey, and yes even go to Europe. New York was the place that developed that taste of adventure that courses through my veins, and each experience I have cultivates it. I believe this adventure feeds my art. Adventure produces raw emotions of all sorts, and seeing other cultures broadens our perspective. . .these elements gives the artist and endless supply to draw upon. . .

which brings me to my other big happening in the past few weeks. . .

I got offered a job in South Korea. It is teaching English for a year in Daegu, in the southern part of the country. At first I was thrilled. . .then I had to tell people. Some were excited, others were anxious, and still others were down right against it. Never before had I gotten such a variety of reactions to an upcoming adventure. Usually, my friends and family respond with. . ."well, okay have fun." This time, not so much. . .which made me falter and lose my confidence in the choice. Perhaps they forsee something I don't? Or maybe they think north korea is just a little too close and a little too communist? I'm not sure, but their doubt sent me into a downward spiral. I was confused and scared and sad. I didn't know what to decide. . .and in the end I felt I was deciding between my art and first love--theatre--and adventure. Friends said I was being over dramatic. Perhaps I was just a bit. . .but a decision like this is a life changer. . .need I remind you I am 31. . .taking the job will put me out of the theatre for one year. . .I will be artistically rusty but financially stable. . .and I will be 32 when it is all said and done. . .what to do?!?!

I turned it down.

They wanted the contract before I could decide, I felt rushed, I said no. The End.

I took the path more traveled. Convinced myself that I chose my art over adventure, and that is a good thing. I've had enough adventure. I need to root myself, establish myself as an artist in one place. After all I've devoted 10 years of study to theatre, I've spent an exorbitant amount of money on training and theory and practice. It is now time to prove it was all worth it, by going out there and getting a job. Hang up the backpack and the hiking boots, and get a real job. After all I am 31.

Again with the age. 31. 31. 31. 31. I love my thirties, I feel alive and vibrant and fresh. But suddenly maturity is expected of me. . .why? Why at 30 is it time to be mature? Why isn't traveling a mature choice? Children and a husband = maturity? Who says? and Why? Maturity, maturity, maturity, maturity. . .all it means is to be fully grown and developed, it is also, in the a financial world, the time at which a bond or note is due. So, being fully grown and developed means I have produced kids, established a house, and a healthy relationship with someone of the opposite sex. . .or I am a note that is due. Hmmmmm. . .

I don't like it.

For me. . .like most things. . .maturity is in the eye of the beholder and allowing our idiosyncratic behavior to contribute positively to the world around us. Being adventurous is not immature if it is my nature to do so.

So, Korea came back with another offer. . .

Looks like I will be chronicling from the other side of the world in the near future. . .

But what about my one true love--theatre? What will my life as an artist become? Can I still be artistic when I am not cultivating it through performance, pursuance, and education?

I guess I'll find out. . .but for now, it is all about New York and three intense days of theatre.

Today I quote my sister. . ."in 24 hours your life can completely change course."