Shit My Co-Teacher Says...Part 1

Now, most of my co-teacher's are great...but one of them...I just...I just can't. I mean, what?

"You look very sexy today, you dance for the class?"

"Yes, Heroin and Marijuana are the same thing. One is longer name because there is more."

"You are an addict. Your coffee costs 3500 won and my cigarettes 2500 won, yours cost more so it is worse."

"Maybe you go sleep today, if useless"

"Your face is very young. One day you be old like me and then people not so nice to you"

"You could teach this better..maybe. Or maybe not? Maybe I teach it."

"How are they supposed to know this?"
Me: I just taught them
"Oh, okay I'll translate" (to class in English) "she just taught you this. Okay."

"Oh, I would have come to class,but I was busy."
Me: Really? I saw you smoking?
"That was not me."
Me: You waved at me!

"You keep eating chicken and you will be a fatty. Maybe you bring salad to lunch next time. Or persimmons, very good for you"

(Flowers arrive for me)
"Oh, who is this from? Boyfriend? Is he Korean?"
Me: Oh, no not my boyfriend just a friend, but he is Korean, yes.
"You be careful, Korean boys are after American ding ding!"

"Your eyes are very red. You spread contagion to us all. Maybe sit with that boy, he is very sick all of the time. He is also slow and sometimes stupid."

(at lunch) "Don't be afraid to go up and get seconds, you look like you like seconds. And grab me another soup"

(at the student talent show) "Do you like their music? These are the special kids. They are all crazy in the head. Except that one. He is very round and strange."

"These kids, do they give you trouble? Their mothers are prostitutes. They come from slum."
Me: I live in the same building as them.
"Oh, I'm sorry about the slum"

Smooth as a baby in a...jimjilbang

Last weekend after a a super cold and rainy day of rugby, my team and I decided to go to a Jimjilbang (public bath house) in Korea. Now, these are still a bit of a strange concept for me. Basically it is a place (separated by sex) where people go to shower, climb in hot tubs, pools, clean themselves and just generally spa it up. When we got in we were given tiny orange towels, not even big enough to cover one of my butt cheeks. We then got naked, put our clothing in the lockers and paraded past all the old Korean women to make our way to the public showers. First you clean off and then jump into a spa tub.

The tub we chose was full of a yellowish light brown water, but I would like to think it was a tea treatment (at least that's what I'm telling myself). We all climbed in and awkwardly splashed around a bit before moving to a much hotter tub. I normally have no issues with nudity and I am pretty open and up for being in my birthday suit on a regular basis...but this was odd. Being foreign and having tattoos made me a double target as old Korean women walked by gawking, I slowly sank under the water. Playing rugby has made me no stranger to ridiculous naked team mates of all shapes and sizes, so I imagine we were pretty much all in the same boat.

I decided I needed to get the full experience and popped out of the pool, stark naked to make my stride of pride over to the "skin scrubbing" station. At this station, old Korean women with very small bras and underwear, lay you down on a table and proceed to scrub every inch of your body. An old women slapped the table and poured a very hot bucket of water all over me. She then took two rough mits, put them on her hands and proceeded to rub my skin raw, within an inch of my life. She twisted and turned me for what was the most hysterical language mis-communication I have ever had. I couldn't understand her directions so I slid around the table, naked, falling in each direction until she moved me to my proper placement. She scrubbed my breasts, arms, thighs, legs and arm pits, reserving her judgmental scrubbing for the areas where my tattoo's were placed. Something tells me she was not fan! She paid extra attention to my butt, scrubbing diligently at one area, until I told her it was my birthmark. She then proceeded to throw a 3rd bucket of hot water over me, reminiscent of Chinese water torture before smacking my back and legs. Again, I must ask where in the world this is considered pleasurable. When I was finished, she slid me off of the table so I quite literally rolled on the floor as she directed me to the public showers and cleaned the table for her next victim.

When I emerged my skin was so soft and clean that it squeeked! Very impressive. Well played, Korea!

Korea...the land of the hot physios!

Woo hoo! Cool little injection bandaids!

So here is my run in with the Korean medical system, part 2. My calves have been pretty tight and sore the last few weeks, then after attending an Irish/Scottish dance practice, one in particular was terribly sore. The irony, is that I  injured it while old men and women danced circles around me. At our game on saturday, right before we started I attempted to take a lap of the pitch. I felt a tearing sensation and then at work on Monday there was a massive"pop" in my calf and my older kids helped carry me up the stairs. Needless to say, it was time to head to a doctor. I went to Sky sports clinic in Seoul for a thorough and very interesting experience.

I walked in and looked like your standard confused foreigner, until a very kind Korean lady took me by the shoulders and directed me to a waiting area. I pulled out my medical insurance and a paper with my ailment translated in Korean. "I hurt my calf,it is very sore, I heard a popping sound and it is hard to walk." I felt like a little kid being lined up for class. They nodded, smiled and called down an incredibly attractive young Korean man with perfect hair! "Hello Maggie. Where is you pay point?" It took me about 3 or 4 times asking him to repeat it, before I realized he had said "pain paint." I pointed at my calf and made a frowny face,  I was immediately embarrassed at how juvenile I was.
"We will get you taken care of, come with me" he said, before whisking me away on a 9 floor journey around the hospital. The first stop was in the X-ray ward where the man managed to stammer out "please take off your underwear!" I looked at him- shocked, before he directed me to a corner that had robes and shorts. When I came out he adjusted me into positions my body has probably never attempted and we played an awkward charades game of "which way is this man telling me to turn," in Korean. I flopped around like a fish out of water until he placed me in the next position and finally sent me on my way.

The handsome Korean doctor was again waiting outside with a big smile on his face. He grabbed my bag, gave me his arm to hold onto and directed me to the consultation room. I felt like a celebrity. When I arrived, I was greeted by a large smiling man, who gestured me to sit. "Hello Maggie, I don't know English. Climb on my table" he said. Without hesitation I took off my shoes and sat down. I wondered if every Korean person in a medical practice sounded so accidentally demanding and sexual when they spoke.  He poked at my calves, slapped them and said "does this hurt" before chopping the back of my calf. He showed me a slide of my X-Ray and said "see this. this is a good calf. and see this? this is your calf. It is bad. It is torn and swollen. No good." He gave me 3 options "do nothing and wait 8 weeks, get surgery or start with injections that will help it heal in 2 to 3 weeks." I chose injections even though he said it was very likely I would need surgery anyway.

He carefully flipped me over on my stomach, prodded me some more and yelled something at a Korean nurse who promptly brought in 5 needles. The handsome doctor came over to hold my hand, which of course made me more nervous. "You are strong girl, you play rugby. This will be pleasurable" he said. If getting five injections is pleasurable, I would be very interested in knowing what this man does in his time outside of work. One by one, they stabbed each needle in. I winced at first, but by the fifth needle, my leg was completely numb and very large. The handsome doctor helped me off the table, but my leg was so stiff I could barely walk. I later thought, I probably should have asked what they gave me.

Before I could get in a word they whisked me off to the 7th floor and into a "rehabilitation room." Now please believe me when I say, and I kid you not, this room was full of the most attractive physios I have ever seen in my life. Large,buff Korean men in tight fitting t-shirts with overly trendy hair and big silly smiles. My face immediately turned red and of course I made quite the entrance by literally tripping through the door. I am so smooth. 4 physios came running over, scooped me up and directed me to lay down on a table. Yep, I was pretty much in heaven...with the small exception that none of them could speak much English and my Korean definitely leaves something to be desired. A man came over, smiled, waved and starting pulling my pants legs up. He then grabbed my legs,twisted me into some crazy position and began kneeding at my thighs and butt. Normally I can control myself, but I began laughing hystercally and so did he."I'm sorry" he said "my English is very bad. Maybe you can take Korean lessons." I nodded and told him to continue. Then he flipped me on my side, pressed his body against my legs and began pulverizing my hamstrings. It was actually so painful that I forgot the obscenely awkward and sexual nature of the encounter. He gave me a thumbs up, to which I nodded and he applied more pressure before moving on to my calf. "Pain" he said.I nodded again and he began pummeling my calf with a massive smile on his face. He must have been of the same thinking as the very handsome doctor, because he giggled everytime I winced. Now, I am pretty strong and I can take a little pain, but I swear this physio made child birth seem like a fun and easy option in comparison to enduring even 20 more minutes of his masochism. When he was finished I couldn't move. He gave me a massage, hooked some electrode type of pads to my legs and brought me a blanket. "I'm gentleman" he said and placed it over my body. "you killed me" I muttered under my breathe. "yes, I kiss you " he said, laughing, and trotted away.

30 minutes later I was awoken by a very soft spoken Korean man "you go now" he said. See you tomorrow. I grabbed my bag, said "Kamsamnida" and hobbled down the hall. When the door closed I heard "oooh, Mi-gook" as they burst into a round of applause.

Can't wait for my next physio session!

Getting Rid of My Mixed Kid Complex

Facebook, while it is many things, is an outlet for social debate. I posted a comment today about white people dressing in black face for Halloween. It sparked some great conversation and interesting theories....but it also deeply hurt me and made me realize I have a chip on my shoulder. All the way in Asia, I thought I spent little time actually worrying about my race, when it is quite the opposite.  I mean it's obvious I am a foreigner, but that applies to black people, white people and folks of any persuasion other than Korean.

Race is such a tender topic for me and I guess it always has been. When I first got to Korea I made a slide show with a photo of both of my parents, my mother being white and my father black. So many of my kids gasped when my fathers image came up on the screen. "Ooh, very black" "Ooh Africa" they said, which was followed shortly thereafter by questions about whether I tan or not and if I think I am pretty. An interesting question, which made me realize. I spend so much time "being mixed" that I never just get to be me. And really whose fault is that? I can't blame past experiences, or racist people I've encountered. It is something I have let become a part of me. As a result, I think of myself in terms of black and white or gray, always the other. This complex has made me incredibly tolerant of every person I've ever met, but more than mildly judgmental of myself. I never feel "pretty," because I never feel like the standard. I'm not even sure I know what the standard is. When people say I am intelligent, I assume they mean intelligent for my background, or upbringing, but I never see myself as being properly included. I know that I am so much more than a color, but I just don't know what yet.

At the age of 25, I still feel like a kid again, every time I have to justify how I feel about race or myself in relation to a particular ethnicity or group. I always feel like I am outside looking in, no matter how close I am to the situation or people. I want very badly to focus on me, not my place in a group and certainly not whether they are thinking of me as strange or different, or the exception. I've never felt black enough, or white enough or really anything enough to have a place to identify. When I was a kid, I made sure that I was funny. If I was the funny kid, I didn't have to be the mixed kid. When people would say something horrible about my hair, my features, my family or my skin tone- I would make it into a joke. It was a defense of sorts, but it is also something that has carried over into my adult life. It is something that makes me very angry and more sad than I often care to admit.

 How do I forget about it, when it's everywhere.On my ID when asked to pick a race, I sat there for 45 minutes refusing to select just one. Every time I fill in a survey or a box I see reminders that I just don't fit neatly, I can't just "please choose one." When I'm in a relationship and my boyfriend's mother says, "you're so sweet, I just wish he was dating a black girl" or a "white girl," how do I ignore it. When the media says "beautiful for a black woman" or "alabaster chic" do I acknowledge that I will  be called "exotic" which has become code for, uncomfortable with our inability to define you.

I'm pretty tired of being tired and I'm even more tired of being the "other." I really just want to be me for a while, whoever that is.

2 months and 10,000 readers!

Today marks two months in Korea! It is also the day my blog hit over 10,000 page views. I am incredibly humbled and overwhelmed with the support I have received on my journey and during the process in planning for Korea. When I started this blog I never imagined that I would have regular readers or even many folks interested in what I was doing/saying! So today, I am astonished and totally in awe!

Korea has honestly been one of the craziest adventures of my life, even just 60 days in. I can't imagine that I would be too sane without this blog as my outlet and without the reader comments and questions  I receive on a regular basis.

So 6o days in: this is what I know
1.I love my school and my kids!
2. Korean food is right up my alley, even though I don't like seafood
3. I have some excellent friends here- from all over the world, who are incredibly supportive and lovely.
4. I could spend 10 years in Seoul and still never see everything there is to see.
5. I am so lucky to have found such an awesome rugby team.
6. I am truly blessed and I need to acknowledge that more often
7. Now would be a good time to stop, slow down and realize that I will never get these moments back, so I should make the best of them!
8. I have no idea where I will be next year, but I can't wait for the adventure!

When My Kids Start Hitting Each other In The Middle of My Lesson

I'm Like....

Korean Healthcare At It's Finest!

After four days of a sore throat, one mildly itchy, red eye that migrated over to the other and feeling generally crap, I decided to take my first trip to the doctor in Seoul. This was also my first sick day at my school, a scandal to say the least. "What's wrong with teacher Maggie?" At the recommendation of a few friends I called up the International Clinic in Itaewon and headed out for my appointment. It was lodged between a 7Eleven, 5 floors above a delicious smelling Indian restaurant.

I walked into one of the most comfortable waiting rooms in the world. It was cozy and patterned and filled with glorious Konglish signs like "knock the door for answer." This place meant  business and there really was minimal talking. "First time" asked the women at the desk and handed me a consultation paper, shooing me away with her perfectly manicured hand. When I finished, I returned it and she extended her hand, I pulled out my health insurance, which she hastily snatched, scanned, stamped and handed back to me. She then guided me through a set of doors into a back room where she set me up to a blood pressure monitor.  "this is too high" she said and adjusted my arm, before taking my blood pressure 5 times repeatedly. She poked at my stomach a bit, but seemed satisfied with the lack of fat she might have been suggesting. She then took my height and weight, reweighing me 3 times; a common practice in Korea. Apparently I am deceptively small to weigh as much as I do. She shook her head, called in another nurse who then proceeded to shake her head at me. After about a minute of their simultaneous head shaking they decided they had cast sufficient judgement and sent me in to see the doctor.

The doctors name was doctor Kim, and although he was Korean born and bred he sounded like a spaghetti western version of John Wayne "Have a seat" he said with a slow, Southern drawl. It took everything in my body not to laugh. He looked at me, asked what was wrong and then answered the question himself "you have red eyes. head cold, congestions, feeling tired" I nodded in agreement. "Okay, how long has this been happening?" "about four days." "That's fine" he said, before checking my ears and throat and sending me out of the room to be tested for strep by judgmental nurse A. She sat me down, leaned me back and shoved a long Q-Tip towards my tonsils. "Not enough" she said, before jamming it further back. "You have loose throat, no gag" she smiled and placed the sample inside a tube. I was then ushered back out into the comfortable waiting room, offered a tootsie pop and asked to wait for 10 minutes while they got my results.

"Good news" said Doctor Kim "you don't have strep throat, but you have a bacterial infection in your eye which is making you sick. No worries, your prescription is waiting in the lobby. Have a nice day Maggie!" without missing a beat he opened the door and let me back out into the lobby where my prescription paper was waiting for me. I paid for my visit, a whopping total of $15.00 and picked up my meds (all 3) for $7. My first experience with Korean doctors was pretty steller! I can't imagine going to a doctor in the U.S and being diagnosed, in & out in 25 minutes with a tootsie roll and a bag full of pre-packed drugs! Well played, Korea, well played!