On How I Find Myself (#7)

"You believe in visions and prayers, but you don't believe in what's really there."

-"Golden Girls," Devendra Banhart

In my life, I have always believed in "what's really there," instead of the aforementioned above.  

I am finding myself believing in "what's really there" even more than I expected.

I am not thinking about what is happening and just letting life tumble me toward my happy demise.  "Happy" because if I live a full life, death will feel like that... I think.

The entry gets deep quick.

I cannot describe how it feels to abandon analysis except that it leaves me speechless.  There are a lot more silences in my speech and thought and I adore it that way.

Let me start with today.  

Today I helped organize a Hawaiian luau for my school.  So I looked like a ridiculous, mal-adorned Barbie doll. Those who know me understand the importance of the below "portrait."

This is what the immigration process to Hawaii looks like.  The visitors lack confidence and take a long time to answer questions.  They are 6 years old.

Also equally important are the animatronic, malnourished polar bears that populate Hawaii.  My new best friend here in Korea has labeled them "malnourished," and I whole-heartedly embrace his criticism.  Why are they malnourished?  Furthermore, why are they polar bears?

The weekend prior, I celebrated Buddha's birthday by visiting Gyeongju.  

Gyeongju was the former Korean capital during the Silla Dynasty.  Among the more amazing sights were the oldest observatory in Asia, dating back to ~600A.D. and an immaculate temple-fortress in the mountains.  But what captured my heart was Gyeongju's isolated, mountainous location and serene beauty.  

Below is a completely un-spactacular photo of what it feels like to wander in the streets during the day.  

The sun is hot, the conversation is simple, and the mood is just right.  

Like the middle porridge in Goldilocks' tragedy with the bears.  Yes, I do like that bowl of porridge.

I proceeded by taking a slew of laundry-line photos on somebody else's camera. They were completely ordinary, but to me simple and beautiful.  You see everything in a different light when you are happy.  

Even dirty laundry.

This was followed by my first time backpacking in Korea:  I even had hiking boots with ankle support and a professional-grade backpack.  This prevents me from falling too quickly... whether it be 'down' or 'through' or 'in love' or whatever kind of falling I am doing.

We ended up setting up camp on the beach in Pohang, where we attempted to stargaze.  Like Los Angeles, the Korean air prevented us from seeing our celestial buddies.  The relaxation was more in the imagination.  

The Korean coast is simple and wooded and right for my temperament. 

This past weekend I went to Muuido Island with the hiking club, but I decided to stay overnight for my 2nd backpacking excursion in Korea.  Backpacking is an entryway into a different world altogether.  With the MERS virus circulating around my province, an escape was a good out.  Even when weighing the cons of coming into contact with a lot of people during travel.  The majority of the schools in my area are completely shut down for next 12 days.

So, do you worry?

No, you put on the mask and you go on vacation.

Muuido is located about 1/2 hour from Incheon airport by bus/ferry, and is reason for Seoulites to feel like they have a secret from the rest of the world.  

It is a peppering of islands, some of which you can actually walk to when the tide is low.

I could live there.

The most miraculous part of this place is that the tides come in and go out drastically.  It is like the best part of  mood swings.  I only wish those left such ravishing beauty.

In the morning, I woke up with water underneath my head in the tent and had to move it further away.  Six hours later, that same water was 1-2 miles away from me.  We walked there to touch the actual coast and then sat in the warm puddles.  

The moment below was one of the happiest slivers of my stay here in Korea.  

Looking at the two photos, you can also see the tidal difference.  

The planet has such an uncanny ability to change.  It is doing more so now that it has a fever, but in its most natural state the ups and downs are quite informative as to how we should be living.

The natural ability to change.

All you can do is think about your own ability to do the same.

Learning to transform into a Korean beach,

Sabina Student 

Photo courtesy of Lamer Morales

Photos courtesy of Lamer Morales

Playing Parts (#6)

"Personality is a series of unbroken successful gestures." ~F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

I've started listening to The Great Gatsby on audiobook here.  I do it in the mornings because I find it a good companion to my morning coffee.  Like a fine, crispy croissant, the audiobook complements my black brew.

At first I didn't know why I was doing this.  And then I realized I was hungering to compare everything I was experiencing here to American values.  For me, the most positive version of The American Dream is wistfully and bittersweetly captured in this novel.

This has somehow fused with thinking about my own personality and what it actually is.

These past two weeks, my degree in Directing has rescued my self-image.  

For our school event days, I was asked to change dresses like Oprah Winfrey during the Oscars.  That means a lot of dresses in a short period of time. 

And so the last two weeks featured me as Doctor Sabina for our Hospital Event Day.  I outfitted the get-up with a coffee mug because I felt like it was only appropriate.

This was followed by Children's Day, on which I played Jumbo and the other foreign teacher played Laya.  We called ourselves the "Afro Circus," with the name of our duo being Jambalaya. 

You can see that my hair extensions are actually quite stunning.  

In the second photo, we are presenting a magic trick in which the other teacher's cellphone disappears.  Those connected with the modern age (which is everybody) can understand the anxiety this presents.  Laya ended up running out of the room, hiding in the bathroom, and crying.  I made the phone appear in a silver pan which clanked as I yanked it open.

We were flawless and completely believable. 

Below is me giving a student an animal balloon of a dog after I pulled it out of the other teacher's clown costume (this was preceded by a sound effect of a dog barking).  

I chose chihuahua.

After these shenanigans, I became a game master and taught my 6 Year Olds how to play Twister.  They mastered it artfully, and the members of the class were asked to occupy different positions.  Some of these included the players, the umpire, the spinner, the announcer, and the point-keeper.

We had a couple of umpires that were too competitive and called the players out before they started the game.

In this video, I have taken over so that we can continue playing.  

And so that we learn left from right.

Recently I joined the Seoul International Hikers Club.  They are an amazingly warm and familial group of people who I go on hikes with every Saturday.  I feel fortunate to have found stunning places around the Seoul area to visit, but unfortunately each excursion is always accompanied by a physical mishap on my part.

The second hike I went on, I became confused by the train station toilet.

Upon going inside of the stall, I saw this and did not know how to mount this horse.  Which way does one face in order to not fall off?

 The most mind-opening excursion was this past weekend to Namhansanseong Fortress, remaining to this day from the Joseon Dynasty.  It was a smaller version of The Great Wall of China.  I have never seen The Great Wall of China, but in my head it is a miniature version of that imagined reality.

For me, the more titillating parts of these experiences are the smaller ones.  I saw this little canoe in a lake at the bottom of the hill and I was attracted to its sense of peace.  There was something so confident in this gesture.

Perhaps it was because it had just decided to stay there.

We proceeded to sit at the brewery in the rural town for the entire day.  We talked and regaled with life stories.  This is how I want to spend my time.  The sponge of me was rung out with the feeling of restful interaction.

I cannot imagine what it must be like to want to fill yourself up with experiences.  I often feel on sensory overload and yearn for emptying out the sensorial casket.  Scattering those impressions of life to the wind.

Otherwise, it feels like all that I experience dies within the tomb of my body.  

It seems healthier to let impressions enter, stay for a quick visit, and the leave to go entertain someone else.

I am convinced that not everyone feels this way, but it happens to be the unbroken series of gestures that I see life through.  Or that I dance life through.  

Since they are just some silly gestures, after all.

Photo credit:  Lamer Morales

Falling through the flower bush,

Sabina Student 

#5: Taken With Beauty

This week, Gilbert Blythe of Anne of Green Gables died.  

I saw numerous Facebook posts about this same subject, and I realized he had not only been my youth's love interest.  I also realized that it was the actor who died, and not the character.  And that I could continue to fantasize about what it must be like to have someone fall hopelessly in love with you in your youth and carry that through your life.  That, perhaps, is the sadder truth.

Us ladies all watched Green Gables because it quitessentially represented all of our most important values.  

But most important of all was the need for home.  

In Avonlea, Anne sees a grove of cherry blossoms upon her arrival and is taken with its beauty.  This week is a testament to being swept off my feet, not by a man, but by Korean beauty itself.  

Being overwhelmed by it, even.   

The Royal Azalea Hill in Gunpo was a stunning surprise.  I was going on a hike to what I thought was the peak of Mount Suri.  

This man thought he was going on a hike too.  

In Korea, form is of essence.  

That means that some are dressed for Everest even though they may just be going up a 5-minute hill.  This means hat, visor, sunglasses, and clothing covering every part of the body in 80-degree weather.  I have yet to figure out whether my short sleeves were scandolous or just presenting mosquitoes with a human arm buffet.

Here is an avid hiker.  Notice he is not on the mountain yet but walks as if he is.

This is a photo of my favorite blossom.  

She is in the middle of the two smaller fields of azaleas.  

It is so wonderful to see a flower growing out of the road, and so tall too.  

She almost looks human.

Keep going in the wrong direction, Sabina-Squid-Bulgogi-with-Rice-Monster-And Egg Teacher.  The nickname is growing because this week the cook made me an egg because I cannot eat gluten.  The egg was in the dumpling compartment of the lunchbox, so the children decided that my name needed amending.  It was a huge deal.  My entrance into the classroom was met with silence.  

An egg had appeared.

I am becoming more teacher-like in this name amending.  Below is what I looked like heading to a parent-teacher dinner.  

The glasses make the mafioso outfit.

I became Doctor Sabina Teacher by the end of the week.  We had our Hospital Event Day with the jaded elementary school kids, which meant that I wore a doctor's jacket and had to examine the children for illness.

Below is our medical chart, which was distributed to each child and which I had to fill out.

I determined that the less behaved kids had more cavities than those who listened in my classes.  We will see whether my diagnoses were correct in the future.

Next week, "General Hospital" is being administered with the kindergarten children.  You can eagerly await next week's photography with video.

For hump day, the other American teacher and I decided to take a trip to the world's largest Ikea.  It occupies 640,000 sq. ft.

My goal was to buy a French press for all of my excessive coffee-drinking needs.  I was excited and took a photo of myself in front of the building, after which I applied another face mask (this time "Placenta") in the evening.

After a satisfying meal of lox and meatballs, we went to find the French press. Tired of hunting around, we asked a store employee.  She told us that they do not sell some cooking products in Ikea because the Korean government needs to screen them and they are not approved.

Also, we found that the prices were much higher.  

After doing some research, I found out that Ikea had ruffled feathers with South Korea.  Also, they had initially labelled the body of water east of Korea the "Sea of Japan" instead of the "East Sea" on a decorative map when they first opened in December 2014.  

This was an insult to Korean culture and the problem was amended.

There are some photos of beautiful places that make me think "these are just beautiful photos."  But this is actually what Korea looks like when it blooms in the spring.  

I wear sunglasses because it makes the crisp beauty more palpable.  And then I can digest it more slowly and enjoy it more.

This week, in all my early-childhood romanticism, I am perceiving the cultural differences more.  

I still care for Gilbert Blythe.

Which means that my retinas burn for the beauty in front of me.

Lesson of the Week:  Figure out where your sunglasses are.  You might need to see the world through something.

Yours here in beauty,

Sabina, Etc. 

Is it A Hike to Get to Tomorrow? (#4)

The sun is setting over Dangjeong.  

The buildings across from mine reflect the sunlight that I can't see.  It is a comfort to see the concrete light up in the glory of the afternoon light.  The transformative properties of Mother Nature embrace me.  I think about what else she can do.

You can probably tell I am listening to Chopin.  

Classical music becomes universal in the smallest of moments.

I am sitting wearing a different kind of mask today.  Spring has arrived and I find the air safely entering and exiting my bronchials.

Korea is known for its prodigal skin care products.  So I've ventured to Nature Republic to purchase "Lotus Flower."  This is intended to hydrate my skin.  I did not ask what the "Snail" mask was intended for.  I was unsure which part of the snail was used to create the consistency of facial mud.  There were also some other questionable animal masks (caviar?) and I instead went with flora instead of fauna for the pores.

Last week, I made phone calls to all of my students at home after school hours.  My assignment was to distribute questions about the U.S. that they had to know the answers to, much like an immigration-style questionnaire.  The interrogation lasts 10 minutes, during which the parents of the child get giddy at home over speakerphone as they listen to their child speak in rehearsed English.  The most rewarding parts of the experience are the long silences.

This weekend, a couple other foreign teachers and I ventured to hike Mt. Umyeonsan.  This is one of the smaller hills nestling Seoul in the Gangnam area.  Mountains: Korea are like Architecture: Spain.  The mountains are sprinkled throughout the city and there often seems to be no division between metropolitan areas and the beauty of a nature retreat.  It can be disorienting and also comforting.  

Like not quite knowing where you are but liking it.  That is perhaps the moment when Dorothy first meets the Munchkins in Oz.

Once we made it to the top of the mountain and descended into a ravine, we found a minaret-like structure next to what I called "an apartment complex."  It turns out this "apartment complex" was actually a temple.  Because I saw a structure that looked modern, I had mistaken it as a residential building instead of the "antiquated" religous institution we were looking for.

At the entrance of the temple, I found two sculptures modeled after my experiences teaching at the English Academy.  I was shocked that the Koreans took the time to make such accurate depictions of my experiences with the children.

A Wonderful Day Teaching

A Terrible Day Teaching

After fawning over my self-portraits erected at the temple, we were invited in for our first traditional Korea tea ceremony accompanied by all sorts of snacks.  The on-the-house(temple?) tea ceremony requires you to sit up straight and take three sips of tea in order to finish each cup.  It is a meditation, a getaway from the bustle of city life.  

During this process, our host commented that the bodies of my colleagues were very beautiful.  I drank my tea clumsily and did not receive a compliment.  However, she did determine that I was the oldest of the group.  And so I had the "honor" of pouring the tea for the others.  

Whether or not it landed in the cup.

I am not sure who the person to our right was, but we accepted the individual with good graces and I made sure to pour him/her the tea first.  During this process, we got the impression that the ceremony would keep going unless we departed from it by force.  And so we did.  But not without a dinner invitation which we politely declined.

Chopin is playing his nocturnes to me.  The towers are now darker, but my window is open so I can still get a waft of the warmed night air.  I want to capture the remnants of that setting sun.

I stand up to shaken out my foot, which has fallen asleep to the hum of uploading videos.  This morning, I saw a man walking strangely out of a BBQ place, and I assumed he was inebriated from a late night of soju-drinking.  It turns out his legs were asleep from sitting on them for too long.

Spring has arrived in this part of the world, which means everybody is losing their senses about the cherry blossoms emerging.  In order to celebrate this occasion, I climbed Mount Suri this morning to discover what the fuss was about.  

I ended up reacting in a way that suprised even myself.  When I watch my reaction, I am not sure whether the blossoms are that beautiful or whether I am desperate for any sort of beauty here.  In recovery from a severe bout of illness and exhaustion from readjustment, I am a moth to the flame of this view.

Although perhaps I hold the camera on myself a bit too long.  When alone in a new country, one is prone to bad selfies and revealing long video footage.  The existential traveller needs a haircut.

It is now dark, and Chopin tells me it is time to drink Ginseng rice wine.  He is a smart and intuitive man who has guided me from the beauty of one day into the next.

I leave you all with a photo of friendship over a view of Seoul.

Let the warmth of others let in the world.

Lesson of the Week:  Keep your window open during a beautiful sunset. You never know what will blow in from the departing day.

Yours,

Bulgogi Teacher

Overlap Operation (#3)

"Will you stop listening to John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads?"  Five times in a row elicits laughter, six times elicits tears, and the seventh elicits laughter again.  In that case, keep listening, Squid."

Such goes my internal dialogue on a lazy Friday night in a place that entertains my emotions.  

I went to Seoul last week, but the city's not important.  

Save that for your imagination.

What is important is that I stayed at a room that was labelled with the below.  In a hotel catering to couples in Gangnam, I was unsure what "Overlap Operation" could mean.  I imagined kinky medical students.  Then, I imagined two scientists with a love of Venn diagrams.

I woke up in the morning thinking it was 6 a.m. but it was actually 2 p.m.  The window turned out to be a mirror so no daylight was peeking in.  It is very strange to be looking out onto the world and realize it is just a reflection of yourself.

I also attempted to turn on a light in the room, but I quickly figured out it was painted on to the wall and not a real lamp.  My fingers scraped the wallpaper.  I kept on trying to find the light switch.  The blue caterpillar asked me who I was and I took a bite of the giant mushroom.

The trip to Seoul featured a visit to the Imperial Palace.

Below is me next to a palace guard.  

My jowls are extending South, and in the attempt to look as unattractive as possible I made him look at me sideways.  I was trying to look as unentertained as he was, and in that attempt the photo came out as puffy as possible.  

The Human Blowfish was hanging out with the blue statue.

"Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy."

What is important is my love for the kids.  Before coming to Korea, I imagined myself experiencing as much of the country as possible.  I didn't imagine that instead I would be falling madly in love with children.  It turns out that the reason I may not have maternal instincts is because I am a child myself.

This week they taught me that the inside of my thigh is jucier than the outside.  When they bit into it.  Blood was drawn and I have two marks that I hope will scar in fond memoriam.  His name is now Vampire, which sounds nothing like "vampire" when said with a childish Korean accent.

We had Event Day last week celebrating my great country.  Here are the kids dancing to a "famous American song."  I never understood that this song was a Korean celebration of American cowboy culture until I came here and it was deemed appropriate for America Day.  I danced at the front of the school with an imaginary lasso and taught the Gangnam-style flailings that day.

Save that for your imagination.

In the video, you may see an "immigration office."  As part of America Day, the children were given American passports and I checked them into our country.  The dialogue went something like this:  

"Passport please."

"Here you are."

"Where are you from?"

"Korea."

"How long are you planning on staying?"

"Two weeks."

"Thank you.  Welcome to America.  Enjoy your stay."

 They all entered proudly and then went to eat their morning snacks.  I taught them "The Ants Go Marching One By One" and we made ants on a log with celery and then carrots.  Celery is expensive in Korea.  Burn-off-more-than-you-eat celery.  In all honesty, it's kind of a boring vegetable anyway.

"If I could have another day I could give you, I'd give you a day just like today."

I am continuing to morph here.  

The days are not always easy, but I am learning to laugh genuinely at hardship.  I am learning to live honestly with the most basic parts of myself, admitting who I am and how I can let the laughter come from the deepest parts of me.

There are times when the tears come too close to the laughter.

In those cases, I ward them away and laugh harder.

I am now no longer Squid.  

Rather, I am known as Bulgogi Teacher due to an unfortunate flashcard incident where I pointed to myself which teaching the kids what 'bulgogi' is.  

Latest Lesson:  Always point to the flashcard instead of to yourself when teaching food items.

With emotions thoroughly entertained, I stand to inhale and exhale in my brave new world.

Signing off with love and laughter,
Bulgogi Teacher