One more day until Chusok

1. My tour guide/new best friend

2. Traditional meal

3. Jessica bought us digi (tastes like burnt sugar- my favorite)

4. Calligraphied lamps at the exhibit

5. More raw eggs in my soup.

6. I kind of made this! The flowers at least!

Amazing how quickly things go back to normal. I'm up at 2:30 after just arriving home from Jurassic Park night. I really forgot how terrifying that movie was. It was a normal day: got up around 11:30, walked to school around 1:30 (although I had a more than usual urge to burn my pencil skirt and wear some jeans and a t-shirt- looking professional feels so pretentious sometimes), ate a corndog during each of my breaks between classes, and kicked the copying machine (amidst suggestions that maybe if I hit it, or cursed at it, it would begin to comply). I went to the grocery store right after work, and came home with a heavy bag that I couldn't seem to carry comfortably. Going to the grocery store before dinner at night while ravenously hungry is a deadly combination. I got home and flung myself on the armchair (the furniture and I have been gradually warming up to one another, despite its suspiciously sticky coating) and breathed a sigh of relief as I held a baguette in one hand and a stick of butter in the other.

Let me finish this weekend. We're around dinner time at this point? I had bean sprout soup with more raw eggs. Jessica assured me that the soup would cook them... instead it turned a murkier yellow. Whatever, I was hungry. I ripped up some more seaweed to cover the flavor, threw it in, and kept eating. That night we went to a courtyard to hear traditional Korean music. It was a small grass lawn with brick walls surrounding it and exotic flowers leaning over its perimeter. Having slept a minimal amount the previous night, our artistic experience was further enriched by the sheer gidiness of exhaustion. Most of the performance was amazing: little wooden flutes, huge stringed instruments stretched across people's laps, a huge drum... it was great. I was delighted to find out that the beautiful girl that had caught my eye as I came in was not only a singer, but the Janis Joplin of Korea. Before she started singing we noticed that her voice was raspy as she was sweetly talking to the MC in her mic. It became clearly evident why when she burst into an upbeat folk song about two brothers. The way she smiled, leaned towards us, and flicked her fan with her wrist, I felt like I understood every word. I understood when there was dialogue, when she was counting, and when somebody triumphed or failed. I never imagined that Korean folk music would be so raw and unornamented, but I guess it was written by the people who were emeshed in the country, not just bossing it around.

The MC's comments became more and more hilarious as her awkward translations continued. She first introduced the student performers and trailed off, "You will have a chance to compare...", then, my favorite line of the night- after the singer had performed and wanted her to explain that this song was a wedding song, she said that and then quipped, "I believe I already mentioned that one..."

The most painful and strength-testing segment was when a university president's wife, almost uninvited, scurried up to the stage and poised behind the microphone. I was already choking on laughter from another awkward comment the MC had offered. It didn't help that Michelle had her face wrapped in her scarf, shaking beside me. This woman, in pleated slacks and a plaid overcoat, seemed almost humble and abashed that she was selected to share her talent with us. She obviously had not dressed for the occassion. As she opened her mouth, flared her nostrils, and began belting out an indistinguishable opera aria, it became quite obvious that she had planned for it. It was the same talent you would find in any conservative Baptist church in America: just pick the oldest choir member (at least 85) and hand them some sheet music that is a couple keys too high for them. I must explain something about my age: it is just a number. I am actually about 12 years old. If I know it is inappropriate to laugh, I need to, and I have to severely hurt myself either mentally or physically to avoid doing so. I felt laughter escalating, and tried leaning to the right, shielding my eyes with the guy's head in front of me. I hiccupped and disguised it as a cough. This wasn't working. The tune continued, soaring to a shaky vibrato that at any moment could crack into a squeal. I closed my eyes. No, a rude snort was coming if I didn't act fast. I began to think of everything sad that had ever happened to me in my life, and as I centered on LaSara, our kitten who died last spring, I finally found the fortitude I was searching for. I am ashamed to admit it, but this was the only way I could survive the performance without making a humiliating spectacle out of myself.

Needless to say, I cried when it was over, and not because any passionate emotions were stirred. The MC grabbed the mic, saying, "Wasn't that beautiful? Was it enough? Would you like to hear more?" I jerked my head left to the sound of "Yes! Oh yes!" coming from a few women in the front. I'm sure my look would have burnt them to a crisp had they felt my eyes piercing into them. I spent the next two songs staring at the wavy brown hair in front of me, meditating on LaSara, like a martyr looking to heaven.

We finally made it back to our latticed room, where I attempted to take a shower and soaked the entire bathroom, including the ornate paper door. Whoops. Americans really are never taught to be tidy in the bathroom. We grow up with shower curtains, bathmats, and fixed showerheads, pointed at just the right angle to cascade like a waterfall. We simply do not possess the motor skills to maneuver a hand-held faucet. (I don't even know what you would call it, for that matter.)

I woke up around 2:30 am to the sound of pounding on the wall beside me. Someone must have had restless leg syndrome because I woke up terrified, thinking that this might be my last night in Korea. I thought they were going to come through the wall. Michelle and I were mid-giggle when the person in the room beside us said "IT'S CJ." It was entirely mysterious: the intinerary said there were three girls in the room next to us, and none of them were named CJ. I woke everyone up at five when I got up to go to the bathroom, returned to our floormats, miscalculated the wall, and crashed into it so loudly with my head that I almost broke it. Those walls really withstand a lot.

Sunday we had kimchi and fish for breakfast, made fans, wore matching ponchos in the rain, played "traditional games" such as throw this paper on the ground and see if you can flip it with this other paper! and were tirelessly photographed. I felt like a movie star. We saw a calligraphy exhibit and had a meal that boasted over twenty dishes. I got really attached to Jessica and begged her to quit school and come move in with me in Ansan. She bought me candy instead. It takes about three hours to make a Korean best friend, and Sunmi was my other one. The people here are incredible. They serve you tirelesssly, never think about themselves (unless they're getting in line), and are acutely aware of body language and social graces.

Tonight at school one of the most quiet students in my middle school class said, "Teacher! Were you in Jeonju this weekend?" Turns out she was there too, and I didn't hear her call to me across the street (but really, who would scream at their teacher- I know I wouldn't- it's terrifying enough to see them not in the classroom). She said she saw my nose ring (I don't wear it in school), and that she was visiting her aunt. She was much more talkative today, and I saw the shield of quiet indifference lifted from her face. She even sang along when I taught them an Alison Krauss song today. (Whatever, we were talking about the gold rush, and I figured both were American things).

I'm incredibly blessed to have so many people thrown in my life left and right, and I wish I could keep them all. I'm still trying to figure out what it looks like to love someone when you have hardly any time at all. Is it words? Actions? Yes both but which ones? Hopefully I'll learn something as I go...