Well, it's been two months. A different type of two months than were my first two in Korea.
I haven't had to go it alone this time. I haven't had to figure out everything on my own. I haven't been thrown into a work situation without any preparation. I've even had a few days for rest and relaxation.
But, in a way, it's still been foreign. Almost a week after I got back into the States, reality cashed it's check in full and I sobbed my heart, soul, and eyes out. I didn't know a person could cry that hard for that long - maybe I set a Guinness record. I kept busy by visiting my alma mater, sister, and good friends, substitute teaching for a week for an amazing class of 1st-3rd graders, and visiting my dear old college roomie who now lives in sunny, warm, wonderful California.
Then the time came . . . North Dakota was about to be invaded by me, myself, and I. I wasn't sure if I could take on the EXTREMELY flat land, high winds (Nebraska has nothin on this state), and living in a 30 foot camper with my parents. But on September 30, there I stood in the crisp morning hours, hot tea in one hand and my trusty stop/slow sign in the other. I was now officially a flagger for Border States Paving, Co. What had I gotten myself into?
By the end of the first day, I had made good conversation, dealt with creepy comments from a few men, enjoyed sunshine, been pelted by rain and wind, and continuously stood on my feet for the longest amount of time in my life. I felt as though I were a veteran of this job. It hadn't been a day, but rather a lifetime in and of itself - or so it had seemed.
I had a multitude of experiences in the short one month in which I worked for Border States. The days were long, more often than not cold, always windy, and sometimes could have bored me to insanity if I had let them. There were people on this job whose attitude could have led me to murmurs and complaints - sometimes they did. It was an entirely different lifestyle than I had been living for the past . . . well,for my entire existence. The bar was the only place of social gathering; colorful words were thrown into conversation, at least one every sentence; I worked for no less than 12 hours of the day and was exhausted for the rest of the time I wasn't working.
As I began the drive up MN 95, only two small duffel bags in tow, I didn't know if this was actually supposed to be the journey I was to be taking at that time. I went up for the money, and to be honest, the promise of the biggest paycheck I've ever had going into my bank account at the end of each week was one of the things that kept me going to work each day. But I also gained things from this experience. I gained the satisfaction of making a co-worker smile and laugh at every chance possible when I knew she didn't want to. I gained chances to live my life as positively as I could at each point of the day, impacting those around me and seeing the effects. I gained more conversation skills with random strangers (at which I've never really been too amazing). I gained opportunities to brighten a person's day just by cheerfully asking how their day was and sending a smile and positive word their direction.
When the time came to head back to Wisconsin, oh how ready I was. My fingers itched for a steering wheel, my foot was drawn to the gas pedal, and my mind was already fixed upon the trees, comfortable bed, and real bathroom I would find upon arrival. The long hours of driving were well worth it - home really has been great. I wouldn't exactly say I miss North Dakota and standing outside all day, at the mercy of Mother Nature and her sometimes conniving and rude ways. However, I would say that I am glad for the experience I was able to have, the time I was able to spend with my parents, and yes, the money I was able to make.
I guess I'm continuing to live life as I don't know it, and it's continuing to reward me in unexpected ways.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
Back In Town
Wow . . . just wow.
The past couple of weeks have been chaos, happiness, craziness, sadness, busyness . . .
Unless you have lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time, it's difficult to explain the feeling you have after arriving back in your home country.
My trip home was horrendous, to say the least. As Wednesday morning dawned with beautiful sunshine, my body donned congestion, fever, and sore throat. Awesome. After all the finalities of packing, I was finally sitting in the van with 3 of my friends/coworkers, on my way to Incheon Airport to start the long journey to the States. Goodbyes were said, security was gone through, and soon I was sitting at my gate for the first leg of my trip - a nine hour flight to Qatar. A fourteen hour flight to Chicago followed that, and the final flight was a 50 minute hop over to Minneapolis.
Before taking that final flight to Minneapolis, I had to go through baggage claim, find my new terminal, recheck my baggage, and go through security again. It was an emotional period of time for a sick and exhausted woman who just wanted to be done with traveling. Luckily an extremely tall and burly black security officer, who potentially could have been scary if you were doing something against the law, was who I asked for help. I believe God made sure that he was the only one in my direct line of sight. His voice was surprisingly calm and soothing (if he had read me a bedtime story, I would have fallen asleep). He knew just where to go and kept reassuring me, "Everything's gonna be aight, honey. Don't you worry now. We got this all taken care of." He stayed with me until I finally made it through security. It was an answer to a prayer I had never consciously said.
Four hours of sleep in over 33 hours. Congestion plaguing my sinuses, and now ears. Muscles aching from extremely extended periods of inactivity. To passersby, my family probably looked a lot more excited to see me than I did them. This is where the saying "Don't judge a book by its cover," definitely has relevance. Inside, I truly was overjoyed. But as my family excitedly stood up and waved the "Welcome Home Ashley" poster they'd made for me, all I could get out was a quiet, "Hey," and probably looked a bit under the influence of something . . . But their energy slowly rubbed off on me and as we sat in the truck driving home, it was as if I had never left. Strange how that happens.
The last couple of weeks have consisted of a road trip down to visit Union College, a week long substitute teaching job for grades 1-4 at Minnetonka Christian Academy, and flying out to visit the one and only Kelly Phipps (for those who don't know, my roommate through all four years of college). As I left Korea, I imagined the changes would be huge, easy to spot, simple to explain. But as I've lived the last couple weeks back in the States, I've realized that the differences between my life in Korea and my life now are subtle, sneaking up at any given moment to surprise an unprepared me. The way to eat at a restaurant, the way to discipline in the classroom, the way to greet and show thanks to another person, the way to walk in the bathroom, the way to communicate with other (i.e., language. lol) - there's so many more that are totally unexplainable. One has to have had the experience to fully understand the effects. And the effects are many.
I know that at some point, I'll start to feel that this is my place, that I'm finally back to belonging in this country. But at this moment, I still feel out of place. I still feel as though this isn't quite my home anymore. Who knows, maybe things will never fully go back to the way they were before I left the country. Once the unknown has been explored, it can no longer be called unknown. My horizons have been broadened, my views modified, my life changed - I wouldn't give any of it up for being able to feel like I fully belong again. I still have my friends and family who love me and whom I love - I just now have them on both sides of the world. I started this blog talking about the experiences I would have as "life as I don't know it" in another country. The truth is when life comes to the point as you do know it, that's when things start to get bland. Life needs a little bit of flavor. Step outside your box. Leave the zone of comfort and monotonous routine. Live life every day as you don't know it, for that's when it becomes something to savor and be excited about.
The past couple of weeks have been chaos, happiness, craziness, sadness, busyness . . .
Unless you have lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time, it's difficult to explain the feeling you have after arriving back in your home country.
My trip home was horrendous, to say the least. As Wednesday morning dawned with beautiful sunshine, my body donned congestion, fever, and sore throat. Awesome. After all the finalities of packing, I was finally sitting in the van with 3 of my friends/coworkers, on my way to Incheon Airport to start the long journey to the States. Goodbyes were said, security was gone through, and soon I was sitting at my gate for the first leg of my trip - a nine hour flight to Qatar. A fourteen hour flight to Chicago followed that, and the final flight was a 50 minute hop over to Minneapolis.
Before taking that final flight to Minneapolis, I had to go through baggage claim, find my new terminal, recheck my baggage, and go through security again. It was an emotional period of time for a sick and exhausted woman who just wanted to be done with traveling. Luckily an extremely tall and burly black security officer, who potentially could have been scary if you were doing something against the law, was who I asked for help. I believe God made sure that he was the only one in my direct line of sight. His voice was surprisingly calm and soothing (if he had read me a bedtime story, I would have fallen asleep). He knew just where to go and kept reassuring me, "Everything's gonna be aight, honey. Don't you worry now. We got this all taken care of." He stayed with me until I finally made it through security. It was an answer to a prayer I had never consciously said.
Four hours of sleep in over 33 hours. Congestion plaguing my sinuses, and now ears. Muscles aching from extremely extended periods of inactivity. To passersby, my family probably looked a lot more excited to see me than I did them. This is where the saying "Don't judge a book by its cover," definitely has relevance. Inside, I truly was overjoyed. But as my family excitedly stood up and waved the "Welcome Home Ashley" poster they'd made for me, all I could get out was a quiet, "Hey," and probably looked a bit under the influence of something . . . But their energy slowly rubbed off on me and as we sat in the truck driving home, it was as if I had never left. Strange how that happens.
The last couple of weeks have consisted of a road trip down to visit Union College, a week long substitute teaching job for grades 1-4 at Minnetonka Christian Academy, and flying out to visit the one and only Kelly Phipps (for those who don't know, my roommate through all four years of college). As I left Korea, I imagined the changes would be huge, easy to spot, simple to explain. But as I've lived the last couple weeks back in the States, I've realized that the differences between my life in Korea and my life now are subtle, sneaking up at any given moment to surprise an unprepared me. The way to eat at a restaurant, the way to discipline in the classroom, the way to greet and show thanks to another person, the way to walk in the bathroom, the way to communicate with other (i.e., language. lol) - there's so many more that are totally unexplainable. One has to have had the experience to fully understand the effects. And the effects are many.
I know that at some point, I'll start to feel that this is my place, that I'm finally back to belonging in this country. But at this moment, I still feel out of place. I still feel as though this isn't quite my home anymore. Who knows, maybe things will never fully go back to the way they were before I left the country. Once the unknown has been explored, it can no longer be called unknown. My horizons have been broadened, my views modified, my life changed - I wouldn't give any of it up for being able to feel like I fully belong again. I still have my friends and family who love me and whom I love - I just now have them on both sides of the world. I started this blog talking about the experiences I would have as "life as I don't know it" in another country. The truth is when life comes to the point as you do know it, that's when things start to get bland. Life needs a little bit of flavor. Step outside your box. Leave the zone of comfort and monotonous routine. Live life every day as you don't know it, for that's when it becomes something to savor and be excited about.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Endings Are Hard Too . . .
If beginnings are hard, as my first post on this blog made clear, I've come to realize the endings are just as hard.
Here it is - my last day in Korea, the land of kimchi, palaces, rice, and adjoomas. After a plethora of random moments of wondering what this day would be like, what I would do, how I would feel, I am finally experiencing it.
When I arrived in Korea, taking that first step onto the land I would be walking on for the next year, I didn't know where it would lead me. But putting one foot in front of the other, I made my way through immigration, to baggage claim and customs, and out the airport doors into the country I would come to view as home.
The difficulties I've had, the joys I've known, the people I've come to love, the food my taste buds have delighted in, the sights my eyes have seen, and every single experience I've had, be it good or bad, has gotten me to the point I am at in my life TODAY. This is a year I will never, ever be able to forget. When my hair is gray and my knees ache (more than they already do. lol) and my face has deep smile lines by my eyes, I will still remember the time a student came to vespers because of me; or having to depend on people to guide me because I had no idea what the signs said; or hitchhiking with a random Korean man; or traveling and experiencing a multitude of cultures and learning to adapt to situations quickly. Every day I have learned something. Through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the downright awkward and strange, I've grown and learned so much about the world, others, and myself. I feel as though I've lived two years within this one.
Living in a new place is strange at first, be it in your home country or abroad. But then, it starts to become familiar. The smells, the sights, the language, the routine of daily life. In a foreign country, if you allow yourself to become totally immersed in the culture and way of life, you begin to feel as if that country can no longer be called a foreign country. A special type of loyalty to and love for that country grows within you, one that no one can feel unless they have lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time. And then the time comes to leave - and you wonder what is waiting for you back in the land of your birth. That's what I ponder on this day of my departure.
Many goodbyes are still to be said this afternoon. A lunch date with my ladies is still to be had. Tears are yet to choke me up and be forced to stay in my eyes (I'm not sure if the tears or I will win that battle). I am hoping and praying that as I leave behind this unforgettable chapter in my life that I have the courage and strength to enter yet another new chapter.
So, until my feet are planted solidly on American soil . . .
Here it is - my last day in Korea, the land of kimchi, palaces, rice, and adjoomas. After a plethora of random moments of wondering what this day would be like, what I would do, how I would feel, I am finally experiencing it.
When I arrived in Korea, taking that first step onto the land I would be walking on for the next year, I didn't know where it would lead me. But putting one foot in front of the other, I made my way through immigration, to baggage claim and customs, and out the airport doors into the country I would come to view as home.
The difficulties I've had, the joys I've known, the people I've come to love, the food my taste buds have delighted in, the sights my eyes have seen, and every single experience I've had, be it good or bad, has gotten me to the point I am at in my life TODAY. This is a year I will never, ever be able to forget. When my hair is gray and my knees ache (more than they already do. lol) and my face has deep smile lines by my eyes, I will still remember the time a student came to vespers because of me; or having to depend on people to guide me because I had no idea what the signs said; or hitchhiking with a random Korean man; or traveling and experiencing a multitude of cultures and learning to adapt to situations quickly. Every day I have learned something. Through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the downright awkward and strange, I've grown and learned so much about the world, others, and myself. I feel as though I've lived two years within this one.
Living in a new place is strange at first, be it in your home country or abroad. But then, it starts to become familiar. The smells, the sights, the language, the routine of daily life. In a foreign country, if you allow yourself to become totally immersed in the culture and way of life, you begin to feel as if that country can no longer be called a foreign country. A special type of loyalty to and love for that country grows within you, one that no one can feel unless they have lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time. And then the time comes to leave - and you wonder what is waiting for you back in the land of your birth. That's what I ponder on this day of my departure.
Many goodbyes are still to be said this afternoon. A lunch date with my ladies is still to be had. Tears are yet to choke me up and be forced to stay in my eyes (I'm not sure if the tears or I will win that battle). I am hoping and praying that as I leave behind this unforgettable chapter in my life that I have the courage and strength to enter yet another new chapter.
So, until my feet are planted solidly on American soil . . .
Friday, August 23, 2013
Climb
Don't look back.
Breaths coming in, short, shaky, shallow . . .
Don't look down. You're fine.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Faster and faster breaths come and go.
Calm. Calm. Calm is good. Breathe.
This was me. Thursday, August 15, 2013 at approximately 10 a.m. Halfway up a mountain that had turned into rock face and which I had thought I was brave enough to climb. Oh how little I sometimes know myself . . .
Last Thursday was Independence Day in Korea. Thank you for becoming independent Korea, so I could have a day off of work - and I mean that with as much respect and sincerity as possible. I decided that I would venture to 관악산 (Gwanak Mountain) and put to use my twice-used hiking shoes. I was sure they'd been lonely sitting under my bed since May so I thought they could use a good outing. Off I went at 8 a.m. to find the bus that would start me on my morning adventure.
In all honesty, I had no clue as to where I was going or where to go once I got to where I was supposedly going. However, since I moved to Korea, I've learned that I can't let little things like being clueless stop me. Otherwise I would never do anything. I finally made it to my stop (all of the adjoomas and adjoshis in their wonderful "mountain climbing" gear got off the bus so I figured that's where I should get off too). I traded out my cool sandals for hot double layered socks and stuffy but sturdy hiking boots. And then . . . I was off. Did I care that I was the only foreigner on any of those trails? Haha . . . nope.
Of course, I decided to veer off onto the path less traveled. As I walked up the rocky path, desolate of human life but overflowing with the sound of buzzing cicadas, angry looking faces carved into wooden poles made me wonder if I should possibly find a different path. I continued on. The hike seemed easy at first. A level above a leisurely stroll through the woods, with some stairs and tree roots thrown in. Then I came to a fork in the path. I chose the way that said "Temple". Shoot.
The climb began to get steeper, more and more roots and rocks reaching out to grab at my feet and ankles, hoping to make me stumble. And then, I saw it. The trees began to thin and gave way to large boulders and rock face. Pssshh, I can totally do that, I thought encouragingly to myself. I made the first part of the climb rather quickly, advancing as stealthily as a panther, as sure-footed as a mountain goat.
But then came . . . "the ledge". Duhn duhn duhn . . . I pulled myself up onto a flat and small but safe ledge. As I stood there and looked up, I realized that I was now dealing with rock face alone and my deathly fear of heights began to creep over me like sinking sand. It slowly began in my legs. Then I did the ignorant, the foolish, the stupid - I turned around and looked down. The fear began moving faster, spreading into my arms, my stomach, causing me to press my back against the solid rock. The emptiness of the space in front of me had me cornered. I slowly sank to a sitting position as the fear moved into my chest, my lungs. My breathing was now not my own, my thoughts no longer in my possession. My breaths became quickened. I gasped for air as if I were drowning. And then . . .
I began to regain control. I focused on my breathing. I prayed. I gave myself a lot of mental pep talks. I almost decided to call it a day - hey I made it halfway, alone. That's pretty good for someone with my fear of heights, right? But then I saw men and women my grandparents' age passing me up. I had to do it. I slowly stood up and made it look like I had merely been taking in the beautiful scenery. I then made my way (very slowly) up the rest of the rock face, clinging to it as if it was the love of my life. I finally made it to the end of the rock face and the rest of the boulders seemed easy after that. The view was great. The breeze felt wonderful. On that day - I consciously conquered a slight bit of my fear. It doesn't mean it's fully gone. I may not have won the war yet, but I was victorious in this battle.
Don't look back.
In all honesty, I had no clue as to where I was going or where to go once I got to where I was supposedly going. However, since I moved to Korea, I've learned that I can't let little things like being clueless stop me. Otherwise I would never do anything. I finally made it to my stop (all of the adjoomas and adjoshis in their wonderful "mountain climbing" gear got off the bus so I figured that's where I should get off too). I traded out my cool sandals for hot double layered socks and stuffy but sturdy hiking boots. And then . . . I was off. Did I care that I was the only foreigner on any of those trails? Haha . . . nope.
Of course, I decided to veer off onto the path less traveled. As I walked up the rocky path, desolate of human life but overflowing with the sound of buzzing cicadas, angry looking faces carved into wooden poles made me wonder if I should possibly find a different path. I continued on. The hike seemed easy at first. A level above a leisurely stroll through the woods, with some stairs and tree roots thrown in. Then I came to a fork in the path. I chose the way that said "Temple". Shoot.
The climb began to get steeper, more and more roots and rocks reaching out to grab at my feet and ankles, hoping to make me stumble. And then, I saw it. The trees began to thin and gave way to large boulders and rock face. Pssshh, I can totally do that, I thought encouragingly to myself. I made the first part of the climb rather quickly, advancing as stealthily as a panther, as sure-footed as a mountain goat.
But then came . . . "the ledge". Duhn duhn duhn . . . I pulled myself up onto a flat and small but safe ledge. As I stood there and looked up, I realized that I was now dealing with rock face alone and my deathly fear of heights began to creep over me like sinking sand. It slowly began in my legs. Then I did the ignorant, the foolish, the stupid - I turned around and looked down. The fear began moving faster, spreading into my arms, my stomach, causing me to press my back against the solid rock. The emptiness of the space in front of me had me cornered. I slowly sank to a sitting position as the fear moved into my chest, my lungs. My breathing was now not my own, my thoughts no longer in my possession. My breaths became quickened. I gasped for air as if I were drowning. And then . . .
I began to regain control. I focused on my breathing. I prayed. I gave myself a lot of mental pep talks. I almost decided to call it a day - hey I made it halfway, alone. That's pretty good for someone with my fear of heights, right? But then I saw men and women my grandparents' age passing me up. I had to do it. I slowly stood up and made it look like I had merely been taking in the beautiful scenery. I then made my way (very slowly) up the rest of the rock face, clinging to it as if it was the love of my life. I finally made it to the end of the rock face and the rest of the boulders seemed easy after that. The view was great. The breeze felt wonderful. On that day - I consciously conquered a slight bit of my fear. It doesn't mean it's fully gone. I may not have won the war yet, but I was victorious in this battle.
Don't look back.
Breaths coming in, short, shaky, shallow . . .
Don't look down. You're fine.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Faster and faster breaths come and go.
Calm. Calm. Calm is good. Breathe.
This is soon to be me. Wednesday, September 4, 2013 at approximately 11 p.m. My flight to separating me from the home I've come to know and love and bringing me to the home I've always known and loved.
Life can often feel like a steep mountain climb. Some of it is a breeze, but then you come to the boulders and rock faces. You take on the challenge, full of courage and hope. You get halfway there and stop. Hey I made it this far - that's pretty good for someone like me, right? You look up at the rest of the challenge facing you and suddenly it seems easier to just go back from whence you came. But when you decide to continue to make the climb, when you make the conscious choice to win the battle, you push forward with renewed hope and a little extra strength. And when you get to the top - well, the view is just splendid and the breeze gently embraces you. You've yet again made it through one of life's challenges.
Changes are scary. My life is changing by dramatic proportions. It's going to be a scary climb. I don't even know what's waiting for me at the top. I don't know if I want to know what's waiting for me at the top. But I know that I must keep climbing, because in the end, the top is going to be just grand and breezy.
This is soon to be me. Wednesday, September 4, 2013 at approximately 11 p.m. My flight to separating me from the home I've come to know and love and bringing me to the home I've always known and loved.
Life can often feel like a steep mountain climb. Some of it is a breeze, but then you come to the boulders and rock faces. You take on the challenge, full of courage and hope. You get halfway there and stop. Hey I made it this far - that's pretty good for someone like me, right? You look up at the rest of the challenge facing you and suddenly it seems easier to just go back from whence you came. But when you decide to continue to make the climb, when you make the conscious choice to win the battle, you push forward with renewed hope and a little extra strength. And when you get to the top - well, the view is just splendid and the breeze gently embraces you. You've yet again made it through one of life's challenges.
Changes are scary. My life is changing by dramatic proportions. It's going to be a scary climb. I don't even know what's waiting for me at the top. I don't know if I want to know what's waiting for me at the top. But I know that I must keep climbing, because in the end, the top is going to be just grand and breezy.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Laugh
Laughing. Giggling. Squeaking. Chortling. Squealing. Snorting. Chuckling.
All of these are words to describe what happens when your joy, happiness, or exuberance can no longer be contained within your being and spill out through your mouth and/or nose.
I love to laugh. It makes my whole body smile on the inside and my brain feels like it's floating on Cloud 9. I've been told that I laugh often, sometimes at anything, even if there is no reason to find that thing funny. My laugh is also . . . well, unique. Once, in high school, I was told by some friends in the classroom next to mine that they knew whether or not I was in class that day because they could distinguish my laugh from anyone else's they heard - even through a thick cement wall. But I don't care if my laugh sounds strange - when happiness bubbles up inside my chest, I just have to let it out.
At the beginning of July, we got a new Level 1 Korean English teacher at our institute. The first couple of days he didn't talk much to me but then we hit it off well. Every morning, when our classes finish at 8, he strolls by or into my room and we chat about one thing or another for a few minutes, always making jokes and always finding some reason to laugh or smile. The other day he walked into my room. For some reason, we started fake laughing. First he made this slow, drawn-out, creepy laugh. Then I said, "Psshhh, I can do better than that," and I gave it my best shot (which sound pretty good, by the way). We went back and forth several times, trying to up the other in this game of voice masquerading. Finally, we walked out of my classroom, continuing with our laughs. As we neared the stairwell, our laughter became genuine - we couldn't hold it in any longer. We knew how ridiculous we sounded and we couldn't keep up our charade.
As we entered the stairwell, laughing, another teacher was waiting for the elevator. He said, "Why are you laughing? What is there to be happy about?" That stopped me and I said, "There is a lot to be happy about!"
He replied, "Well, I don't think there's usually a lot to be laughing about."
I was stunned by his reaction to our laughter. First of all, his mood downed my mood ever so slightly. Second of all, I felt a bit sorry for him. There's always something during the day to cause happiness and laughter, whether it is just a few chuckles or a full-blown laugh attack. Anything could strike you as humorous, if you just let it.
As you go through your day, find the chuckles, the giggles, the smiles, the laughs, and even the occasional snort. Without laughter, the soundtrack of life would sound flat. And nobody likes listening to continuous flat notes.
Don't let your life go flat. Laugh.
All of these are words to describe what happens when your joy, happiness, or exuberance can no longer be contained within your being and spill out through your mouth and/or nose.
I love to laugh. It makes my whole body smile on the inside and my brain feels like it's floating on Cloud 9. I've been told that I laugh often, sometimes at anything, even if there is no reason to find that thing funny. My laugh is also . . . well, unique. Once, in high school, I was told by some friends in the classroom next to mine that they knew whether or not I was in class that day because they could distinguish my laugh from anyone else's they heard - even through a thick cement wall. But I don't care if my laugh sounds strange - when happiness bubbles up inside my chest, I just have to let it out.
At the beginning of July, we got a new Level 1 Korean English teacher at our institute. The first couple of days he didn't talk much to me but then we hit it off well. Every morning, when our classes finish at 8, he strolls by or into my room and we chat about one thing or another for a few minutes, always making jokes and always finding some reason to laugh or smile. The other day he walked into my room. For some reason, we started fake laughing. First he made this slow, drawn-out, creepy laugh. Then I said, "Psshhh, I can do better than that," and I gave it my best shot (which sound pretty good, by the way). We went back and forth several times, trying to up the other in this game of voice masquerading. Finally, we walked out of my classroom, continuing with our laughs. As we neared the stairwell, our laughter became genuine - we couldn't hold it in any longer. We knew how ridiculous we sounded and we couldn't keep up our charade.
As we entered the stairwell, laughing, another teacher was waiting for the elevator. He said, "Why are you laughing? What is there to be happy about?" That stopped me and I said, "There is a lot to be happy about!"
He replied, "Well, I don't think there's usually a lot to be laughing about."
I was stunned by his reaction to our laughter. First of all, his mood downed my mood ever so slightly. Second of all, I felt a bit sorry for him. There's always something during the day to cause happiness and laughter, whether it is just a few chuckles or a full-blown laugh attack. Anything could strike you as humorous, if you just let it.
As you go through your day, find the chuckles, the giggles, the smiles, the laughs, and even the occasional snort. Without laughter, the soundtrack of life would sound flat. And nobody likes listening to continuous flat notes.
Don't let your life go flat. Laugh.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Satisfied
So, I'm not a good poet, that I know for sure. However, I like to have fun with words. I was reading through my pronunciation sentences for my Level 4 class tomorrow and one of them was about a mouse running from an owl. It inspired me to post this random piece. Please don't judge. I figured as long as I've been transparent with my feelings throughout this entire year on this blog, I might as well be transparent in my desire to write awesome lines (even if I, in all honesty, cannot succeed in accomplishing that goal. lol). So, here it is.
In the night
Stillness lays over the land
Creatures sleep
Silently, peacefully
But something around does creep
A listening ear hears
the creeping
Patiently, carefully
It leaves the branch
to take wing
Beady eyes rove the
field
Silent wings glide
The darkness is this owl's shield
What’s that?
The mouse feels a
presence
The ground, its paws
no longer pat
Tension weights the
air
Mouse and owl
The fight is not fair
The owl swoops
The mouse scurries
The night world roots
but to no avail
The owl takes to his
branch
Satisfied for yet another night
Friday, July 12, 2013
Remain In Motion
Wind blowing through the hair and cooling the skin, all cares being whisked away on that same breeze. A picture of perfect bliss, pure happiness, blessed freedom. Sailing along smoothly and quickly, eyes focused toward the destination . . . AAAHHHHHH!!! Crash landings hurt.
It was a perfectly beautiful Saturday afternoon - not too hot by the standards I've come to measure heat here in Korea. Earlier in the year I had salvaged a poor lonely scooter from its impending demise as it leaned up against the courtyard wall, just waiting for the garbage trucks to come around that night and end its torture. I like to think that the scooter is eternally grateful for my random act of kindness . . . except scooters don't have feelings . . . yes, well, anyway . . . yes.
It had been ages since I had ridden a scooter. It only took a couple of minutes for my muscles and limbs to adjust to the present roles I needed them to play. As I propelled myself along the sidewalk, I saw the glances, the out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye sneaky look, and the blatant stares. "Why is there a foreigner riding a scooter down this sidewalk in Korea?" I'm sure they were all thinking. But nothing could dampen my mood, nor my passion for riding this two-wheeled vehicle of delight. I was actually even becoming slightly impressed with my scootering skills, maneuvering around pedestrians and transitioning between sidewalk and road and back to sidewalk again like I'd been born on a scooter. I finally left the sidewalk and made it to the paved and vegetation-filled walkway that leads to the Han River.
My mind began to go its own way, as usual. I don't remember what I was thinking about (or not thinking about) but the next thing I knew was that the wheels of my scooter had come to a stop but I, unfortunately, had not. An object in motion remains in motion with the same speed and direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. The unbalanced force acting upon my scooter was a square slit in a rain gutter stretching from one side of the path to the other. The unbalanced force that soon acted upon my body was . . . the ground. Oh Newton, how cruelly correct and unforgiving your law is.
I came to a skidding stop and lay there, slowly writhing and intermittently whimpering in the pain my knees and right hand were now experiencing. No one was around - or so I thought until I heard a worried woman's voice tremble out, "Jogiyo?" After she helped me up and I reassured her multiple times that I was fine and thanked her, she walked away with a bit of worry still occupying her face. I debated continuing on my way. I couldn't walk well because of my left knee, which the ground decided to beat up more than my right one. My hand was killing me (after a couple of weeks, it still gives me pain - hmmm, maybe not a good sign? lol). It looked like it might rain soon. So did I turn around? Pssshhh, yeah right. This was the first journey my scooter and I were sharing together. I wasn't going to let a few issues ruin that! The soreness actually wore off quickly (until I was sitting down that evening - then it hit me like a sledgehammer) and I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my wonderful and warm outing. A perfect way to spend a Sabbath afternoon.
Often in life, we happily sail along, feeling the breeze whip our hair out behind us and refresh us from the heat of the day. We roll along at a smooth pace, nothing seeming like it could wrong. But then, that rain gutter grabs at our wheels. That breakup, that bad score, those financial issues, that misunderstanding that ended a friendship, that wrong decision, that lost job - sends you falling to the ground, where you come to a skidding stop, not knowing if you can, or want to, get back up again and continue on your way. Will you be able to brave the pain? Can you carry on toward your destination? Do you really want to try?
Standing there motionless, you will feel the pain. Standing there motionless, you will continue to remain undecided. Standing there motionless will not get you anywhere. When you begin to move again is when you will slowly begin to forget about the deep ache you are feeling. When you begin to move again is when you will realize that you can keep moving toward your destination, despite the problem you just faced or are still facing. When you begin to move again is when you will remember why you enjoyed this ride of life, even if things may sometimes be difficult. Don't let the crash keep you from moving forward. Don't let your confidence and courage be dashed by the fall you have taken. Don't let the problems life throws at you sap you of your motivation and will to move ahead and render you motionless.
Remain in motion.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
A Small Compilation of Advice for Those Who Want to Teach Abroad © 2013 Ashley Schebo
So, I wrote this a while back for Union College Mission Week and I randomly came across it today as I was searching for a file totally unrelated. For all those who have ever thought of or are thinking of going abroad and read my blog, this is meant especially for you. I don't have a huge amount of experience, seeing as I'm merely one year out of college, but I hope it helps or enlightens or inspires or guides in some way. So, without further ado . . .
Teaching.
It’s what my classes prepared me for. It’s what my Bachelor’s
degree certifies me to do. It’s what I never dreamed I would be doing in a
foreign country. Yet, here I am, an English teacher in Korea who now has ten months of never before dreamed of experiences under her belt. What a way
to start life after school.
Each day here has been a learning experience. I quickly
realized that, while I may be a teacher of English, I am a student of a vast
multitude of other subjects – culture, adaption, flexibility, and getting
enough sleep are just a few among many. I probably learn as much from my
students as they learn from me. So even though child and adult alike call me
‘Ashley Teacher’, I feel like I should be calling them ‘[insert any Korean name
which I can never pronounce correctly no matter how many times I try] Teacher’
as well.
I am continuously finding reasons to laugh with my students.
Conversation time never fails to bring laughter as one student says the wrong
word and totally changes the meaning of the sentence or if another student makes
a humorous response to a question (don’t worry, no one laughs at anyone – we
all laugh together, including the person who made the mistake). I will have
stories to tell for quite a while about Korean co-teachers or students
unknowingly causing me convulsions of laughter on the inside while on the
outside I gently guide them to the correct word or response with only the hint of
a smile on my face.
- “Look, that baby is shaking at
us!” “No Michael, she’s WAVING.
She’s waving at us.”
- “I ride the short bus.” “The what bus?” “The short bus.” “Please say it one more time, a little
slower.” “The shuttle bus.” “Oh, got it.”
- “My mother is delicious.”
- “I am boring.”
“You are?” “Yes, I am
boring. And this class is bored.”
- "She is a smart man." "She is a smart man?" "Yes, she is a smart man." "SHE is a smart MAN?" "Yes." "She . . . Man . . ." "Ohhhhh, no! HE is a smart man . . ."
Friday, June 21, 2013
Cardboard Box
Brown. Cardboard. Sturdy. Taped.
It's just a box. Merely pieces of cardboard formed into a container that holds safe your belongings and carries them to destinations of your desire. So why did it make so many emotions rise in my chest?
This past week, I got home from teaching and finally did what I had been meaning to do for a while - I packed clothes, shoes, and jackets into a cardboard box to ship back home. Packing has always been a despised task by me, but this time, it made me feel more than disgust for its very creation. This time, I was packing a box because my life is about to change drastically . . . again.
I haven't exactly been counting down the weeks until I return back to the land of the free and home of the brave (my wonderful father decided to take on that task himself. lol). I've thought about what it will be like when I get back. I've thought about what I will do, where I will go, who I will see. I've thought about the emotions, the reunions, and most importantly, of course, the bread aisle at Walmart. But none of it seemed real. These were mere thoughts, imagined situations that flitted through my mind like a firefly at night - here then there, back and forth, mysteriously appearing then disappearing without warning.
With each unwanted and unneeded piece of winter clothing emptied from a drawer; with each item carefully rolled and arranged in my cardboard box (just like Dad taught me); with each strip of tape (there may or may not possibly be an extreme amount of adhesive covering all openings on my box) cut and placed on my cardboard box, the reality of my life as I have now begun to know it changing again slowly crept over me, like the tide creeps over the sand. My life here will be ending soon - two months can seem like a long time to a child waiting for a birthday or a student waiting for school to end. But I am neither of those. I am a woman walking down a road and seeing the next new road in the not-so-far-away distance. I am a woman who now has two homes and is waiting to leave one for the other. I am a woman waiting to face the fears I have of leaving, many of them the same fears I had upon arriving.
Reality still hasn't fully overtaken me yet. No plane ticket yet, no empty apartment, no packed suitcases at the door, no inevitably emotional goodbyes. The tide is still creeping in, and won't fully overtake me until I'm sitting on that plane leaving behind the new life God has helped me make for myself. Instead of the moon influencing this tide however, it was a cardboard box. Something so simple causing such a big effect on me. Something so simple causing emotions of excitement, sadness, thoughtfulness, and anxiety to fill my heart and mind all at the same time. Hmm, who knew a cardboard box could be so powerful . . .
It's just a box. Merely pieces of cardboard formed into a container that holds safe your belongings and carries them to destinations of your desire. So why did it make so many emotions rise in my chest?
This past week, I got home from teaching and finally did what I had been meaning to do for a while - I packed clothes, shoes, and jackets into a cardboard box to ship back home. Packing has always been a despised task by me, but this time, it made me feel more than disgust for its very creation. This time, I was packing a box because my life is about to change drastically . . . again.
I haven't exactly been counting down the weeks until I return back to the land of the free and home of the brave (my wonderful father decided to take on that task himself. lol). I've thought about what it will be like when I get back. I've thought about what I will do, where I will go, who I will see. I've thought about the emotions, the reunions, and most importantly, of course, the bread aisle at Walmart. But none of it seemed real. These were mere thoughts, imagined situations that flitted through my mind like a firefly at night - here then there, back and forth, mysteriously appearing then disappearing without warning.
With each unwanted and unneeded piece of winter clothing emptied from a drawer; with each item carefully rolled and arranged in my cardboard box (just like Dad taught me); with each strip of tape (there may or may not possibly be an extreme amount of adhesive covering all openings on my box) cut and placed on my cardboard box, the reality of my life as I have now begun to know it changing again slowly crept over me, like the tide creeps over the sand. My life here will be ending soon - two months can seem like a long time to a child waiting for a birthday or a student waiting for school to end. But I am neither of those. I am a woman walking down a road and seeing the next new road in the not-so-far-away distance. I am a woman who now has two homes and is waiting to leave one for the other. I am a woman waiting to face the fears I have of leaving, many of them the same fears I had upon arriving.
Reality still hasn't fully overtaken me yet. No plane ticket yet, no empty apartment, no packed suitcases at the door, no inevitably emotional goodbyes. The tide is still creeping in, and won't fully overtake me until I'm sitting on that plane leaving behind the new life God has helped me make for myself. Instead of the moon influencing this tide however, it was a cardboard box. Something so simple causing such a big effect on me. Something so simple causing emotions of excitement, sadness, thoughtfulness, and anxiety to fill my heart and mind all at the same time. Hmm, who knew a cardboard box could be so powerful . . .
Friday, June 7, 2013
Early to Rise
*cough cough* Umm, this got a bit . . . umm, well, long. I guess it makes up for all the posts I haven't written
which I should have.
Chuncheon - area of Korea known for its dakgalbi and beautiful scenery.
As of last Sunday, my friends, Gina and Cody, and I know it for these as well as some other things. Adventure has a way of joining you in ways that you don't quite appreciate in that exact moment. But when adventure joins you in that way, it always makes your stories so much more interesting.
The morning began bright and early - at 5:45 a.m. to be exact. Why did I wake up this early on the day right before Monday? I don't know. At least the subway was nice and quiet.
We figured out the correct trains to take and after about an hour or so subway ride, we made it to the lovely city of Chuncheon. There was even a LAKE! There were two exits, one of which would lead us to the tourist information booth of which we were in need. We finally decided to take the exit with the really, really long hallway. As we rode the escalator down to ground level, we realized that this was not the side we should be on - it was deserted except for some bicycles, a few stores, and the Michelin Man. So we retraced our steps to the escalator, rode up, and walked back down the really, really long hallway - all the while Cody reminding us that he had said the other exit was what he had said we should take in the first place. This did not seem like a good precursor for the rest of our day - and it was only 9 a.m.
We got our map and made our plans to go to a temple up in the mountains. After walking over to the correct bus stop, we tried (unsuccessfully) to figure out how often the bus to the temple ran. That was when we met Pastor Ha and Pastor Han - two very easily confused names (I should know, I confused them). Pastor Ha had just returned to Korea two months ago after pastoring at Napa Korean SDA Church in CA for 30 years. He also used to be the president of SDA Language Institutes, the place I WORK! Ten years ago, Pastor Han served as the president of Northern Asia division of the Seventh-day Adventist church. He was 67 and had traveled to 103 countries and hopes to make it 125 in the next five years. He also told us we could come to his house anytime, gave us his phone number, and offered to give me a Golden Retriever puppy.
Not long after the dynamic H duo left, our bus arrived - out of 1962. I was almost positive the floor was going to rust through as we drove through the winding and tight-cornered mountain road. But at least somebody had the thought to put a high-tech flat screen TV at the front of the bus so that even if the floor did fall through, you could still watch your favorite drama, no worries! After a white-knuckled ride, my feet landed firmly on solid ground, alive!
We began our hike in the sunshine and clean air. In fact, the air was so clean, I think my lungs were actually grinning and giggling. There was a beautiful clear gurgling stream running on its merry way alongside our walking path. We found a spot near a good-sized waterfall where we could leave the path and ever so gingerly step our way across the water on wobbly rocks. If we got yelled at, we had all decided we could just play the foreigner card - give them a wide-eyed, slightly scared look and play dumb. "So sorry, we didn't know. Thank you. Sorry." However, we set a trend - a few older couples actually followed us out to the rock slab by the waterfall. After we had gotten back on the walking path and were trekking our way up the mountain to the bigger waterfall, one of the older couples decided it was time for them to cross back over to continue their hike as well. The woman went first while her husband was filming on his phone. Then . . . the woman biffed it! And the man just kept right on filming, for the next 45 seconds until the woman was able to make it back up the side of the bank. We almost died! It was so hilarious - I wish I had gotten it on camera.
Anyway, we made it up to the temple, enjoyed the breathtaking scenery around us, and headed back down so we could catch the bus for another 30 minute ride back to Chuncheon. As we waited around for a bit at the parking lot, we started wondering when this thing would actually arrive. Thankfully, Gina can speak enough Korean to get us around. She asked the gate keeper when the bus would arrive. He said 6 p.m. It was now 1:30 p.m. This was not going to work for us or our complaining hungry stomachs. We contemplated a taxi - but we knew that would cost an arm, a leg, and money besides. The thought of walking briefly flitted through like a nervous butterfly, but we quickly shooed it away. Someone brought up the suggestion of asking any of the leaving parties for a ride. At first it wasn't a serious idea. However, even though it was awkward, it seemed the most appealing.
So, the hunt began. We prowled the parking lot until we found our first victim. They, unfortunately, were going to Hwacheon, in the opposite direction. So again the stalking began - I think we looked more desperate and weary than anything else though, dragging our feet as we trudged back and forth, up and down, scouring the parking lot in the unforgiving sun. Finally, we found another one to pounce on. He said he was going to Hwacheon, but there was a station there and we could take a bus to Chuncheon. We were so grateful we immediately agreed. This young man, from now on until eternity, will always be known as Driver, for we did not find out his name. He spoke a slight amount of English, took a wrong turn at one point, and had a friend who kept calling him every 5 minutes to ask him where he was. After a gorgeous scenic drive through the mountains with a huge river on one side, we arrived at the bus station. He wouldn't take any money, so we hope that he understood just how grateful we were.
After a nauseating and daring bus ride (our driver was crazy - he almost ran over a cyclist!), we had returned to the wonderful Chuncheon station. From there, we hailed a taxi and ate at the most famous dakgalbi restaurant. Oh my, mother of pearl, the best dakgalbi I have EVER had! So much flavor and awesomeness being shoveled into my mouth, it was unreal. In case you were wondering, dakgalbi is a dish of cabbage, chicken, rice cakes, spicy pepper sauce, and ours had sweet potatoes, too. You cook it in the huge pan that is at your table and uses gas (don't try to stretch your feet out under the table - you might end up slightly singed). Here is a wonderful picture for your viewing and drooling pleasure.
All in all, the day was wonderful. Was it full of unexpected events and issues? Yes. Were we exhausted by the time we stepped onto the train to head back home, stomachs full of dakgalbi and Cold Stone ice cream? Yes. Would I do it all over again? In a heartbeat.
which I should have.
Chuncheon - area of Korea known for its dakgalbi and beautiful scenery.
As of last Sunday, my friends, Gina and Cody, and I know it for these as well as some other things. Adventure has a way of joining you in ways that you don't quite appreciate in that exact moment. But when adventure joins you in that way, it always makes your stories so much more interesting.
The morning began bright and early - at 5:45 a.m. to be exact. Why did I wake up this early on the day right before Monday? I don't know. At least the subway was nice and quiet.
We figured out the correct trains to take and after about an hour or so subway ride, we made it to the lovely city of Chuncheon. There was even a LAKE! There were two exits, one of which would lead us to the tourist information booth of which we were in need. We finally decided to take the exit with the really, really long hallway. As we rode the escalator down to ground level, we realized that this was not the side we should be on - it was deserted except for some bicycles, a few stores, and the Michelin Man. So we retraced our steps to the escalator, rode up, and walked back down the really, really long hallway - all the while Cody reminding us that he had said the other exit was what he had said we should take in the first place. This did not seem like a good precursor for the rest of our day - and it was only 9 a.m.
We got our map and made our plans to go to a temple up in the mountains. After walking over to the correct bus stop, we tried (unsuccessfully) to figure out how often the bus to the temple ran. That was when we met Pastor Ha and Pastor Han - two very easily confused names (I should know, I confused them). Pastor Ha had just returned to Korea two months ago after pastoring at Napa Korean SDA Church in CA for 30 years. He also used to be the president of SDA Language Institutes, the place I WORK! Ten years ago, Pastor Han served as the president of Northern Asia division of the Seventh-day Adventist church. He was 67 and had traveled to 103 countries and hopes to make it 125 in the next five years. He also told us we could come to his house anytime, gave us his phone number, and offered to give me a Golden Retriever puppy.
Not long after the dynamic H duo left, our bus arrived - out of 1962. I was almost positive the floor was going to rust through as we drove through the winding and tight-cornered mountain road. But at least somebody had the thought to put a high-tech flat screen TV at the front of the bus so that even if the floor did fall through, you could still watch your favorite drama, no worries! After a white-knuckled ride, my feet landed firmly on solid ground, alive!
 |
| The bigger waterfall, where we looked so helpless trying to find someone to take a picture of the three of us that a guy with a baby strapped to his chest walked out onto the rocks for us. lol It was great. |
 |
| Cheongpyeong-sa, the temple at the end of our trek since we didn't go up any higher. There were people who made it to the peak of that mountain in the picture, however. |
So, the hunt began. We prowled the parking lot until we found our first victim. They, unfortunately, were going to Hwacheon, in the opposite direction. So again the stalking began - I think we looked more desperate and weary than anything else though, dragging our feet as we trudged back and forth, up and down, scouring the parking lot in the unforgiving sun. Finally, we found another one to pounce on. He said he was going to Hwacheon, but there was a station there and we could take a bus to Chuncheon. We were so grateful we immediately agreed. This young man, from now on until eternity, will always be known as Driver, for we did not find out his name. He spoke a slight amount of English, took a wrong turn at one point, and had a friend who kept calling him every 5 minutes to ask him where he was. After a gorgeous scenic drive through the mountains with a huge river on one side, we arrived at the bus station. He wouldn't take any money, so we hope that he understood just how grateful we were.
After a nauseating and daring bus ride (our driver was crazy - he almost ran over a cyclist!), we had returned to the wonderful Chuncheon station. From there, we hailed a taxi and ate at the most famous dakgalbi restaurant. Oh my, mother of pearl, the best dakgalbi I have EVER had! So much flavor and awesomeness being shoveled into my mouth, it was unreal. In case you were wondering, dakgalbi is a dish of cabbage, chicken, rice cakes, spicy pepper sauce, and ours had sweet potatoes, too. You cook it in the huge pan that is at your table and uses gas (don't try to stretch your feet out under the table - you might end up slightly singed). Here is a wonderful picture for your viewing and drooling pleasure.All in all, the day was wonderful. Was it full of unexpected events and issues? Yes. Were we exhausted by the time we stepped onto the train to head back home, stomachs full of dakgalbi and Cold Stone ice cream? Yes. Would I do it all over again? In a heartbeat.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Banana Bread
Such small simple things in life can bring us such sweet satisfying pleasure.
I really love baking. Really, I do. Unfortunately, I don't really get much time over here to do it often. Also, not all the ingredients I may want to use are readily available. I mean, when I made Russian tea cakes at Christmas time, I had to have one of our secretaries order powder sugar from Gmarket, an online store which has almost everything and then some.
Now, my friend Ray makes a legit banana bread. It's divine! So banana bread became our thing for the first few months I was here.
"Ash, you got any overripe bananas? Save them if you do."
"Why? Are you going to make . . . BANANA BREAD??"
"Heeheehee . . . maybe."
And so would go our conversations before my mouth was full of soft, scrumptious banana bread instead words.
This term, I have been teaching an intensive Level 2 adult class. When you spend two hours a night four times a week with people, you start to build a close relationship. I felt like a friend/mother/guardian of these students and would do almost anything for them. One night, we had joined with another class to have an hour of free conversation. Two of my old students from October were there and for some reason brought up the fact that I had made them delectable brownies one night. Well, one of my favorite students (due in large to the fact that he's sarcastic and jokes with me all the time), Isaac, turned to me and said, "And why haven't you made US anything??" So, thus came the promise of bread on Tuesday night, which was our final party. Last week, Isaac even reminded me about my vow to make bread for them.
So Monday morning came, and with it the mingled smells of cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and banana, the aroma changing my apartment from house to home. Side note - my roommate really loved me because of this. Even more so after she got to 'taste test' the perfectly browned product . . . multiple times.
Finally, the night came. Into the classroom I strolled, plate of bread in tow. To make a long story short, four of my six students came to class that night. The entire loaf was devoured within the first five or ten minutes of breaking out the snacks. I done good. ^_^
Banana bread - it's nothing special. In the scheme of life, it's really one of the simpler things one will ever encounter. Yet it can bring so much pleasure. I was pleased while making this loaf of goodness. My students and co-workers were pleased while savoring every last bite (as was I, I will admit). Pleasure filled me as I watched smiles spread across faces, saw eyes close slightly in pleasure or open wide in joyous surprise, and heard the sounds of people whose taste buds have been delighted.
Graduation, a new car, a big promotion, marriage - all these are big things that can bring us big pleasure. Don't forget to appreciate the simpler things along the way however. A baby's giggle, ice cold lemonade on a hot summer day, the flower that greets you every morning before you walk into work, and even . . . banana bread - all these can bring you joy if you take the time to let them. When you skim through a book, picking up only the main ideas, you will most likely understand the point being made. Without reading the whole book however, all the details from beginning to end, you will never be able to fully appreciate the work for what it truly is. Don't skim through life - details can make things so much better.
Friday, May 17, 2013
A Compliment a Day . . .
It had been a busy day. Then again, when, besides Sabbath afternoon, isn't my life now continuously busy? Anyway, I was hurriedly walking back from buying some kimbap for my evening adult students. We start class at 7:30 p.m. and don't end until 9:35 p.m. Sometimes they talk about how hungry they are, so I thought, Let me be a good teacher and bring them something to quiet their growling stomachs and put smiles on their faces.
The trademark black plastic bag carrying the precious vegetable and tuna kimbap swung back and forth in my hand as I walked down the last stretch of sidewalk to the institute. My earphones, which are a comforting and constant companion whenever I am out and about alone, were nestled in my ears, serenading me with happy tunes. An older man, maybe in his 60s, was walking the opposite way on the sidewalk.
Suddenly, with no warning, he stopped about 8 feet in front of me, stood rigidly at attention, and gave me an all-out legitimate military salute. I've now become accustomed to Koreans, mostly children and older people, acting, well, a bit different around me since I'm, well, a bit different from who they're used to seeing walking down the street. I smiled and gave a small chuckle, since this was one of the most ridiculous reactions I had ever had before - I couldn't help myself.
He then continued on as if he would walk past me, but he instead stopped in his tracks, turned toward me, and said, "Beautiful face! Beautiful face," as he circled his face with his finger to make sure I understood. I said thank you, chuckled a little, and as we were about to turn to part ways I said, "You have a lovely face, too!" as I made the same circling motion of my face and then pointed to him. He was so surprised. His eyes widened and his eyebrows went up so high I thought they would high-five his hairline. A huge smile lit up his face, arriving hand in hand with a laugh that came from deep within this man. He didn't expect to hear anything from me - he was shocked beyond all reason. And that made me continue to laugh and quietly giggle to myself as I continued on my way.
Compliments can do so much. They can turn frown into a smile; a bad day into a good one; and sometimes, enough can turn an enemy into a cordial acquaintance, sometimes even a friend. They're not hard to give. Just a few words here and there can mean so much, even if we don't realize it. Compliments can make life just a little bit better, for both the recipient and giver. So try it. Give a compliment. Leave someone surprised today. It'll make your insides giggle and your outside quietly smile.
The trademark black plastic bag carrying the precious vegetable and tuna kimbap swung back and forth in my hand as I walked down the last stretch of sidewalk to the institute. My earphones, which are a comforting and constant companion whenever I am out and about alone, were nestled in my ears, serenading me with happy tunes. An older man, maybe in his 60s, was walking the opposite way on the sidewalk.
Suddenly, with no warning, he stopped about 8 feet in front of me, stood rigidly at attention, and gave me an all-out legitimate military salute. I've now become accustomed to Koreans, mostly children and older people, acting, well, a bit different around me since I'm, well, a bit different from who they're used to seeing walking down the street. I smiled and gave a small chuckle, since this was one of the most ridiculous reactions I had ever had before - I couldn't help myself.
He then continued on as if he would walk past me, but he instead stopped in his tracks, turned toward me, and said, "Beautiful face! Beautiful face," as he circled his face with his finger to make sure I understood. I said thank you, chuckled a little, and as we were about to turn to part ways I said, "You have a lovely face, too!" as I made the same circling motion of my face and then pointed to him. He was so surprised. His eyes widened and his eyebrows went up so high I thought they would high-five his hairline. A huge smile lit up his face, arriving hand in hand with a laugh that came from deep within this man. He didn't expect to hear anything from me - he was shocked beyond all reason. And that made me continue to laugh and quietly giggle to myself as I continued on my way.
Compliments can do so much. They can turn frown into a smile; a bad day into a good one; and sometimes, enough can turn an enemy into a cordial acquaintance, sometimes even a friend. They're not hard to give. Just a few words here and there can mean so much, even if we don't realize it. Compliments can make life just a little bit better, for both the recipient and giver. So try it. Give a compliment. Leave someone surprised today. It'll make your insides giggle and your outside quietly smile.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Motorbikelandia (formerly known as Thailand)
A blanket of sun. A coat of perspiration. A billowing skirt of tropical breeze.
A glimpse into my Thai apparel.
Returning to Korea from Thailand was like waking up from one of those dreams that have some sketchy parts but are overall, amazing. You don't want to open your eyes, even though your alarm clock is screaming at you. When you finally get physical with the alarm clock and it is silenced, you lay in your bed, hoping, wishing, waiting. But sleep never embraces you, the dream never sneaks back into your mind. So you roll out of bed and off to work you go.
For each of the few problems encountered on this venture to Thailand, there were multiple good experiences had. I had heard about tuk tuks before taking this trip. I had also heard about how their drivers continuously bombard you and try to pressure you into taking their tuk tuk, eventually charging you way more than they should because, as a foreigner, you know no better. A lot of that talk was quite true. We even got followed from our hotel by one driver who continuously kept asking us to take a ride and kept offering us prices. Honestly, it was quite annoying. However, we met one driver who was such a sweet older man. He charged us a small fare, brought us everywhere (I've seen enough temples to last me a few years. lol), and the conversations we were able to have (a pretty tall and solid language barrier stood between us) always had us laughing.
The entire time in Thailand, I only ate at a restaurant one time. Walking quite a ways in every direction away from the hotel, there were no restaurants to be found. So, our meals ended up consisting of tropical fruit from the street market, street cart chicken and rice, and, a dream fulfilled for me, Pad Thai. I ATE PAD THAI IN THAILAND. Score. It was all soooo amazing!! I've decided that this type of diet would be the perfect one for me - I would never tire of the pure and exciting flavors that tickled my taste buds in Thailand. The hotel we did eat at was a Thai restaurant on the 32nd floor of our hotel. The view was great, the food was delicious, and our hostess was stellar. We got to talking and even ended up giving her an English lesson the next day. I guess you can take the teacher out of the classroom but not the classroom out of the teacher - any place, any time, anyone presents an opportunity to teach.
And since the picture above was taken on Khao San Rd, I might as well tell what happened on the way back from Khao San Rd. We were mugged of all our possessions on hand . . .
No, not really. But I did feel slightly like I was mugged of my anonymity, my own friend Ray being the cause. As we were walking back to the hotel from our visit to this lovely road which was so chalk full of foreigners I didn't know what to do with myself, we came upon a sidewalk that was filled with artists doing what they do best - art. There were sculptors, painters, and caricaturists doing some amazing work. There was also a band playing some Thai folk music. We stopped to listen, partially to rest from walking, partially because it was relaxing and entertaining. lol As the music continued, a woman in traditional Thai dress walked to the front and started dancing. A man in traditional dress joined her. It was great. Soon they started pulling a few people here and there from the large crowd to join them in dancing up front. This crowd consisted of Thai people and two foreigners - yes, those two foreigners were Ray and myself. Soon, the man pointed to Ray and motioned for him to come up. Ray ran and hid behind me (which is impossible since I'm pretty short) and wouldn't go up. Finally, Ray said, "If she goes up, I'll go," referring to me. So, I ended up agreeing, something I never usually would've done in a situation like this. As the two of us hesitantly made our way to the front, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers. I felt like such a star. So we started dancing - and had a blast (even though Ray crept away from the front and started snapping pictures). It made me realize that being spontaneous is okay sometimes and that even if you're scared to do something, sometimes you should just go for it, no matter what people think and no matter if you're successful or not.
The floating markets - the same pressure you get from other shop keepers to buy their wares, only now your in a boat and you can't quickly walk past them. This statement isn't really an exaggeration either. I also think our boat driver and the shop keepers were quite irritated that we weren't buying anything, that we were just there for the ride. When your almost at the end of your trip and have no money with to spare though, the ticket for the boat and the range of your camera is pretty much all you can afford. Speaking of which, we could barely afford that. We had been told by someone that each individual ticket for the floating market was 1,000 baht. However, after a 45 minute ride in a taxi, we found out that no, each ticket was actually 2,000 baht. I was trying to explain how we didn't have enough money and how someone had told us the wrong prices and how we were very sorry that we couldn't purchase a ticket (I was feeling frustrated by how someone had again not told us the truth about prices but trying to keep my cool beneath the quilt of heat). That's when our driver stepped in. He offered to give us the extra 2,000 baht we needed. I refused it politely and said we couldn't do that and pay him back that much. He told us to hold on and then proceeded to talk with the manager in Thai. Soon, in what little English he knew, he told us that we only had to pay 3,000 baht AND he would give us the 1,000, which we could pay back to him once we reached the hotel later. He even tried to give us another 1,000 - "Food, souvenir, buy you," he said in a concerned manner. This man was a God send. We were so grateful and were then able to float and speed our way along the canals, past people's homes, through the maze of shops, and finally back to our starting point. It was a one-of-a-kind experience, and all thanks to our taxi driver who could have just taken us back, raking in our money for the taxi fare while we had made a worthless trip, but instead found kindness in his heart for a couple of duped foreigners.
On our way to and from Bangkok, we had a layover at the Shanghai Pudong International Airport. The first layover was only a few hours. On the way back however our layover was ELEVEN hours. At night. With time change. We landed around 9:15, 9:30 p.m. local time. Our next flight was set to leave the following morning at 9:05. It was going to be a long night on chairs that had arm rests and no room to stretch out. I tried taking a nap and that ended up with my arm and shoulder being a complete mess muscle-wise when I woke up after only a short period of time. Sleep poked and prodded but continued to evade my firm grasp. A curved cold stone bench as my bed with only a thin dress as my blanket may or may not have had something to do with that fact. A jump, skip, and a hop away from us sat four or five Chinese men happily playing a card game. "Psh, we can do that too," I declared defiantly and pulled out my deck of Bicycle playing cards. We played 21 and I taught Ray how to play Speed. The group of men must have finished their game because soon, one of them was sitting on the chair beside us, hanging over the back of our chairs watching intently. Without any hesitation, using exaggerated hand gestures, facial expressions, and a couple of English words (which I'm pretty sure he didn't understand at all. lol), I asked him if he wanted to play. And so began another teaching experience for me - getting this man to learn how to play Speed, neither of us understanding the other's language. As I became his tutor and Ray his enemy in this game of agility and quick hands, a crowd began to gather. Soon there were about six or seven Chinese (all men, except for one woman) on all sides of us. They began to pick up on the object and rules of the game as they watched and cheered on their friend. By the time 1 1/2 hours had passed, every single one of these people had played Ray, me, and each other. It was one of the most epic, hilarious, and eye-opening experiences I'd had in a while. Layovers in foreign airports
definitely provide for interesting experiences that become entertaining
stories.
This trip was filled with life lessons - most of which I already knew but many of which I needed reminding or practice. Don't judge a book by its cover. Be open-minded. Appearances can be deceiving. Confidence can be one of the greatest things you will ever wear. Believe in your abilities and others will, too. A motorbike is a WAY better way of getting around than a car will ever be - you can disobey traffic rules and you're always at the front waiting for that green light. Step outside of your comfort zone. Find the good in every thing, every person, every situation. Words are only one thing that comprises language, they are what creates the barrier - love, laughter, smiles, and actions are universal, breaking down the barrier, if even just so much as a small hole to the other side. Mangoes and pineapple really ARE better in tropical countries - one can never return to eating Walmart produce after such an experience. So besides gaining a continuous sunburn with now peeling shoulders, a smaller amount in my bank account, and a wish for tropical fruit in my house every single day, I also was reminded of many important things in life. Yup, I'm a multi-tasker.
A glimpse into my Thai apparel.
Returning to Korea from Thailand was like waking up from one of those dreams that have some sketchy parts but are overall, amazing. You don't want to open your eyes, even though your alarm clock is screaming at you. When you finally get physical with the alarm clock and it is silenced, you lay in your bed, hoping, wishing, waiting. But sleep never embraces you, the dream never sneaks back into your mind. So you roll out of bed and off to work you go.
For each of the few problems encountered on this venture to Thailand, there were multiple good experiences had. I had heard about tuk tuks before taking this trip. I had also heard about how their drivers continuously bombard you and try to pressure you into taking their tuk tuk, eventually charging you way more than they should because, as a foreigner, you know no better. A lot of that talk was quite true. We even got followed from our hotel by one driver who continuously kept asking us to take a ride and kept offering us prices. Honestly, it was quite annoying. However, we met one driver who was such a sweet older man. He charged us a small fare, brought us everywhere (I've seen enough temples to last me a few years. lol), and the conversations we were able to have (a pretty tall and solid language barrier stood between us) always had us laughing. |
| Where the magic happens - Pad Thai in the making on Khao San Road. |
And since the picture above was taken on Khao San Rd, I might as well tell what happened on the way back from Khao San Rd. We were mugged of all our possessions on hand . . .
 |
| Me and my Thai dance teacher of five minutes. |
.jpg) |
| Floatin down the river. |
 |
| Shanghai Sunrise |
This trip was filled with life lessons - most of which I already knew but many of which I needed reminding or practice. Don't judge a book by its cover. Be open-minded. Appearances can be deceiving. Confidence can be one of the greatest things you will ever wear. Believe in your abilities and others will, too. A motorbike is a WAY better way of getting around than a car will ever be - you can disobey traffic rules and you're always at the front waiting for that green light. Step outside of your comfort zone. Find the good in every thing, every person, every situation. Words are only one thing that comprises language, they are what creates the barrier - love, laughter, smiles, and actions are universal, breaking down the barrier, if even just so much as a small hole to the other side. Mangoes and pineapple really ARE better in tropical countries - one can never return to eating Walmart produce after such an experience. So besides gaining a continuous sunburn with now peeling shoulders, a smaller amount in my bank account, and a wish for tropical fruit in my house every single day, I also was reminded of many important things in life. Yup, I'm a multi-tasker.
To answer your burning question of why in the world I renamed this country to Motorbikelandia, please see the following pictures (every single stoplight, I kid you not, looked like this).
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Metaphorical Eating Utensils
젓가락. Or, as we English speakers say, chopsticks.
A brain-involving way to eat your meals. Fun for the whole family.
As an American in America, when one can use chopsticks well, one's friends and family can be slightly impressed. As an American in Korea, when one can use chopsticks well, one's friends, coworkers, students, and random citizens are EXTREMELY impressed and awed. This can then become a topic of conversation.
Yes, chopsticks are great. They make you slow down when you eat. They make you work for your food. They make you concentrate on what you are picking up and shoveling into your mouth. I am ever so thankful that my dad taught me how to use chopsticks at a young age. I can now be the cool foreigner who not only knows how to (usually) skillfully use chopsticks, but is better at it than some Koreans. This fact may or may not make me a bit too pleased with myself at times.
Yesterday, it was the foreign teachers' turn to make Sabbath lunch. Haystacks was the dish of choice. If any of you ever thought it was expensive to make haystacks in America, please come to Korea, buy haystack ingredients, and then tell me if you still think it's expensive in America. After I did all the chopping and most of the preparing (with a little help from a couple of ladies at the church), all things were ready! The church service ended, the people crowded, plates were loaded, and taste buds and stomachs were satisfied. After everyone went through line, we servers got to finally make our own haystacks, and oh the joy that filled my soul as my eyes feasted on the same thing my mouth was about to. However, the only utensils we have at the church are soup spoons and, you guessed it, chopsticks. I gave myself a challenge and gleefully accepted it. I announced to those at my table, "I'm going to eat everything on my plate, using only chopsticks." And . . . I did.
So, you might be wondering, Where in the world is she going with this? Well, this was kind of a long back story to the short thought I wanted to write about. Partially, I was very excited about eating haystacks (even though in the U.S. I continually voiced my despise of them) and partially, I just wanted to let everyone know that I ate an entire haystack (piled quite high) with just chopsticks - every last grain of rice, every last bean, every slice of black olive.
Chopsticks can teach us some life lessons, I've learned.
Chopsticks can't be used alone. If you want to get the job done right, you have to have a set of chopsticks. As people, Christians more specifically. we sometimes try to do everything alone. We don't like to ask people for help or we think we can do it best if we just do it ourselves. God gave us other people in this world so that we DON'T have to do it all alone. Working alone can bring you some results, but with the support and help of others, so much more can be accomplished.
To be used to their fullest potential, chopsticks must also be in the hand of a master. When they are not being used by someone who knows how to use them best, a simple meal can turn into a frustrating, and sometimes embarrassing, dilemma. We need to let ourselves be used by the hands of our Master. He knows the best way in which we can use our lives to their fullest potentials. If we allow ourselves to be guided by Him, every situation becomes better. Chopsticks don't choose where to go or what food to pick up - they depend on the master's decisions. They are tools. Unlike chopsticks, we do have decision making powers. However, we are His tools through which He can do amazing things, if we allow Him to. God's way is the best way. We end up accomplishing so many more things than we could have ever imagined. If we just trust His decisions, His guidance, His advice, life becomes clearer and more purpose filled.
Chopsticks are magnificent. They may have differences from country to country, but they all have the same purpose. Like chopsticks, we as Christians differ from city to city, state to state, nation to nation. However, we also have the same goals - doing God's work, fulfilling His purpose in our lives, working together to show Him to others. Chopstick Christians - it has a nice ring to it. Now bring on the bibimbap!
A brain-involving way to eat your meals. Fun for the whole family.
As an American in America, when one can use chopsticks well, one's friends and family can be slightly impressed. As an American in Korea, when one can use chopsticks well, one's friends, coworkers, students, and random citizens are EXTREMELY impressed and awed. This can then become a topic of conversation.
Yes, chopsticks are great. They make you slow down when you eat. They make you work for your food. They make you concentrate on what you are picking up and shoveling into your mouth. I am ever so thankful that my dad taught me how to use chopsticks at a young age. I can now be the cool foreigner who not only knows how to (usually) skillfully use chopsticks, but is better at it than some Koreans. This fact may or may not make me a bit too pleased with myself at times.
Yesterday, it was the foreign teachers' turn to make Sabbath lunch. Haystacks was the dish of choice. If any of you ever thought it was expensive to make haystacks in America, please come to Korea, buy haystack ingredients, and then tell me if you still think it's expensive in America. After I did all the chopping and most of the preparing (with a little help from a couple of ladies at the church), all things were ready! The church service ended, the people crowded, plates were loaded, and taste buds and stomachs were satisfied. After everyone went through line, we servers got to finally make our own haystacks, and oh the joy that filled my soul as my eyes feasted on the same thing my mouth was about to. However, the only utensils we have at the church are soup spoons and, you guessed it, chopsticks. I gave myself a challenge and gleefully accepted it. I announced to those at my table, "I'm going to eat everything on my plate, using only chopsticks." And . . . I did.
So, you might be wondering, Where in the world is she going with this? Well, this was kind of a long back story to the short thought I wanted to write about. Partially, I was very excited about eating haystacks (even though in the U.S. I continually voiced my despise of them) and partially, I just wanted to let everyone know that I ate an entire haystack (piled quite high) with just chopsticks - every last grain of rice, every last bean, every slice of black olive.
Chopsticks can teach us some life lessons, I've learned.
Chopsticks can't be used alone. If you want to get the job done right, you have to have a set of chopsticks. As people, Christians more specifically. we sometimes try to do everything alone. We don't like to ask people for help or we think we can do it best if we just do it ourselves. God gave us other people in this world so that we DON'T have to do it all alone. Working alone can bring you some results, but with the support and help of others, so much more can be accomplished.
To be used to their fullest potential, chopsticks must also be in the hand of a master. When they are not being used by someone who knows how to use them best, a simple meal can turn into a frustrating, and sometimes embarrassing, dilemma. We need to let ourselves be used by the hands of our Master. He knows the best way in which we can use our lives to their fullest potentials. If we allow ourselves to be guided by Him, every situation becomes better. Chopsticks don't choose where to go or what food to pick up - they depend on the master's decisions. They are tools. Unlike chopsticks, we do have decision making powers. However, we are His tools through which He can do amazing things, if we allow Him to. God's way is the best way. We end up accomplishing so many more things than we could have ever imagined. If we just trust His decisions, His guidance, His advice, life becomes clearer and more purpose filled.
Chopsticks are magnificent. They may have differences from country to country, but they all have the same purpose. Like chopsticks, we as Christians differ from city to city, state to state, nation to nation. However, we also have the same goals - doing God's work, fulfilling His purpose in our lives, working together to show Him to others. Chopstick Christians - it has a nice ring to it. Now bring on the bibimbap!
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Project Impact . . . In Korea.
As a teacher, you often never know where, when, or how you will impact someone's life. Classes can be exhausting at times. Days can seem ever so long. Nights can seem strangely too short. You wonder if anything you are doing is getting through to your students, or if your students are even enjoying your class.
I have often (at least every other day) felt at least two or more of the above things. Am I really doing anything meaningful with my life right now? Is there any good impact being made on any of my students at all? Have I shown Jesus to anyone since I've been here?
Foreign teachers are in charge of most of the weekend programs - Friday night vespers and conversation, Saturday morning conversation club, Saturday morning sermon translation, children's story, etc. Last week was my week to write and present a vespers talk, and afterward lead out in discussion. I finally got around to typing it on Thursday night after all my classes (working here has slightly forced me into procrastination mode many times, much to my despair).
Friday night came and I was nervous, as usual. I always have and always will hate public speaking. Slightly odd, since I'm a teacher and love my job, but presenting material in a speech/sermon like manner still always causes me anxiety for at least 2 days in advance. The presentation went off without a hitch, however. Engaging, yet short and to the point, as my coordinator later told me. We then went into group discussion time.
At the beginning of the discussion, I always like to have everyone introduce themselves to the group and tell us their class level and teacher. One of my former Level 2 students from the January/February term, Kim, had come that night. It came his turn for introduction.
"Hi. My name is Kim. I am in level three and my teacher is Tim. Ashley was my teacher for level two last term though. I came tonight because I really like her."
I was slightly shocked. We always had fun in that evening Level 2 class - laughing, joking, making fun of each other. In fact, Kim was the student who straight up called me weird, right to my face during conversation (which I laughed quite hard about, probably making me seem even more weird). I never knew that my bad jokes and sometimes funny teaching mistakes could have enough impact on someone to cause them to attend a religious evening program. After discussion, as we were all leaving, Kim asked when I was speaking next and asked me to let him know, because he would come that time, too.
How could my weakness and tiredness bring about this result? Just when I was feeling like I really haven't done much of value over here, BOOM! This experience slapped me in the face and woke me up. He may not have came for exactly the right reasons. But, he came and will again come. Those will be opportunities for him to hear God's message to him that he may not have had before. It's kind of crazy when you realize that God has actually used you in some way and you get to see the beginnings of the results. This feeling boils and bubbles deep down in the pit of your stomach and slowly defies gravity until it makes it to the top and ends in an incredulous smile on your face and excited words flowing from your mouth. It gives you strength to press on. It gives you a reason to keep going.
As a teacher, you often never know where, when, or how you will impact someone's life. Last week, I was able to see just a tiny bit of that impact though. And it made all my stress, exhaustion, and frustrations worth it.
At the beginning of the discussion, I always like to have everyone introduce themselves to the group and tell us their class level and teacher. One of my former Level 2 students from the January/February term, Kim, had come that night. It came his turn for introduction.
"Hi. My name is Kim. I am in level three and my teacher is Tim. Ashley was my teacher for level two last term though. I came tonight because I really like her."
I was slightly shocked. We always had fun in that evening Level 2 class - laughing, joking, making fun of each other. In fact, Kim was the student who straight up called me weird, right to my face during conversation (which I laughed quite hard about, probably making me seem even more weird). I never knew that my bad jokes and sometimes funny teaching mistakes could have enough impact on someone to cause them to attend a religious evening program. After discussion, as we were all leaving, Kim asked when I was speaking next and asked me to let him know, because he would come that time, too.
How could my weakness and tiredness bring about this result? Just when I was feeling like I really haven't done much of value over here, BOOM! This experience slapped me in the face and woke me up. He may not have came for exactly the right reasons. But, he came and will again come. Those will be opportunities for him to hear God's message to him that he may not have had before. It's kind of crazy when you realize that God has actually used you in some way and you get to see the beginnings of the results. This feeling boils and bubbles deep down in the pit of your stomach and slowly defies gravity until it makes it to the top and ends in an incredulous smile on your face and excited words flowing from your mouth. It gives you strength to press on. It gives you a reason to keep going.
As a teacher, you often never know where, when, or how you will impact someone's life. Last week, I was able to see just a tiny bit of that impact though. And it made all my stress, exhaustion, and frustrations worth it.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Who Was More Embarrassed?
Spring - the time that causes flowy skirts and bright colors to return to our wardrobes. Ah, the satisfaction one feels in walking down stairs with a skirt that floats around you like a cloud of happiness.
Sometimes, however, we encounter . . . er, technical difficulties? Using the restroom usually is the source of most problems when wearing a skirt as described above. It never seems to end well.
In between my two Trampoline 1A classes, I used the restroom. Before I left, I made sure the inside lining of my skirt was down and in place so that no child would be shocked beyond reason at the slightly see-through part of my skirt.
Walk to classroom. Open door. Happily say, "Hello! How are you doing today?!" Set down books. Ask question from book. Slightly turn back to students. Turn back around. See Jenny frantically pointing and trying to speak.
"Teach-uh! Teach-uh! Uh . . . skirt, skirt, skirt!"
"Huh, Jenny?"
"Mmmm, uh, skirt! Down! Up!"
"What are you talking about?", as I look down at the front of my skirt, which seems perfectly fine.
"Mmmm, ah, ooo, skirt! Down!", now even more desperately pointing at my skirt.
I think she's talking about the front of my skirt. Oh, maybe the lining got stuck so it looks see-through now. Oops.
I turn around to walk out the door so they won't see the front of my skirt. On the other side of the now closed door, I look down and see nothing wrong with my skirt. I feel with my hands from the front all the way around to the . . . oh no . . .
The bottom of my skirt got stuck in the top of my nylons. I chuckle to myself at the fact that I just mooned my poor 11 year old students and then quickly fix my skirt. I return to the classroom no worse for wear.
"Ok class, please turn to page 21 in your Activity Books."
"Are you okay teach-uh?" asks a sweetly concerned Jenny.
"I'm fine. Are YOU okay?"
She covers her face and quietly gives an embarrassed laugh.
I hope she never needs a therapist.
Sometimes, however, we encounter . . . er, technical difficulties? Using the restroom usually is the source of most problems when wearing a skirt as described above. It never seems to end well.
In between my two Trampoline 1A classes, I used the restroom. Before I left, I made sure the inside lining of my skirt was down and in place so that no child would be shocked beyond reason at the slightly see-through part of my skirt.
Walk to classroom. Open door. Happily say, "Hello! How are you doing today?!" Set down books. Ask question from book. Slightly turn back to students. Turn back around. See Jenny frantically pointing and trying to speak.
"Teach-uh! Teach-uh! Uh . . . skirt, skirt, skirt!"
"Huh, Jenny?"
"Mmmm, uh, skirt! Down! Up!"
"What are you talking about?", as I look down at the front of my skirt, which seems perfectly fine.
"Mmmm, ah, ooo, skirt! Down!", now even more desperately pointing at my skirt.
I think she's talking about the front of my skirt. Oh, maybe the lining got stuck so it looks see-through now. Oops.
I turn around to walk out the door so they won't see the front of my skirt. On the other side of the now closed door, I look down and see nothing wrong with my skirt. I feel with my hands from the front all the way around to the . . . oh no . . .
The bottom of my skirt got stuck in the top of my nylons. I chuckle to myself at the fact that I just mooned my poor 11 year old students and then quickly fix my skirt. I return to the classroom no worse for wear.
"Ok class, please turn to page 21 in your Activity Books."
"Are you okay teach-uh?" asks a sweetly concerned Jenny.
"I'm fine. Are YOU okay?"
She covers her face and quietly gives an embarrassed laugh.
I hope she never needs a therapist.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
A Hairy Haven
Dogs.
They are said to be man's best friend. While I find this slightly sexist, since they can be woman's best friend as well (sorry, but I am not content with a snooty cat as my companion), it definitely is a statement of truth. They are understanding. They are accepting. They are loving. They are loyal. They are good listeners. What more could you want in a companion?
Today, I gained some new companions, if for only a brief period of time. My high school friend Gina, her fiance Cody, and I all met in Gangnam and went to Cafe Pawz, a dog cafe. Contrary to what my father immediately thought, it is not a cafe where they serve you dog meat. That will not pass my lips, especially after some of my Korean friends told me it tastes and smells terrible. It is instead of haven of wagging tails, lolling tongues, and hair everywhere. Dogs run around the cafe, jump up to snuggle with you, greet newcomers with a round of barking and yipping, and surround you to longingly gaze at the blueberry muffin on your plate.
At first, the dogs just kind of ran from us to other customers, not really feeling the need to stick around longer than a few pats on the head. Slowly though, we foreigners became the chosen. A dog Gina nicknamed King Charles since, well, that's the kind of spaniel he was, kept trying to steal the straw wrappers off the tray on our table. He eventually succeeded. A tiny black chihuahua with a ridiculous dress on took a liking to Gina. She sat and sat and sat in Gina's lap, seemingly content to remain there for the rest of her life.
Two medium-sized mutts took a liking to me. One at a time, and eventually both at the same time, would curl themselves up alongside my leg and become dead to the world for a while. If they got distracted and left, they always came back to the place they knew was theirs. A Shetland Sheepdog also took a liking to my feet and was soon conked out in between them.
Poor Cody - no one wanted to be his friend. Finally though, we told Cody to move from his chair to the bench. A little Korean girl brought over the puppy she'd been holding the whole time we were there and gave it to Cody to hold. I think that dog was extremely grateful to be out of the grasp of that dear child. Then one of my mutts decided to snuggle up to Cody's side. By the time we were about to leave, we'd been hogging half of the dogs in the cafe. What can I say, they love foreigners. lol
There were so many different dogs. So many personalities thrown together. So much love to give. It was a retreat from the craziness that comprises our weeks as English teachers in Korea. Their playfulness brought smiles to our faces. Their affection and non-demanding manner, for a while, wiped away the stress that can build up over time. Their quiet love brought calm and peace of mind. This was such an awesome experience. Now that I know about it, I might just have to do it again.
Dog therapy - it works.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Journal Entry from a Schebo in Korea
I apologize.
I realize that I have not posted much (or actually anything) in the past month. Please forgive me family and friends who actually read this blog. I know being busy is not an excuse, but it's the most common one used in Korea for not being able to do or not having done something. So I'm using it mostly because it's true and slightly because I feel like Korea has started to become a 'home' in a way.
This post promises to be merely a journal entry, an update if you will, of things that have happened in my life since the last time I wrote. There may or may not be a witty, bright, or enlightened conclusion at the end. Most likely not because it's Sunday night and I have to get up to start another full week of work in the morning. So don't hold your breath - I wouldn't want to be the cause of brain damage or a broken bone from passing out.
A little over 6 months have passed since I left the U.S. and landed on foreign soil. Excitement and terror then loneliness then acclamation and adaptation then normality then both a yearning for and a fear of home have worked their way through my mentality and emotions. The past month of February was full of changes, uncertainty, and anticipating, by Monday afternoon, the sleep I would get on the weekend.
First of all, I found out that my coordinator, Henri, the person on whom I have relied upon for much and who asks for nothing in return, suddenly told us that he had taken a new job at the Main institute training all the newbie teachers. This also meant that his wife, Belinda, who was a teacher here as well, would be leaving with him at the end of the term. We were pretty shocked since it was extremely sudden and unexpected. Then, we found out that our assistant Korean pastor, Pastor Daniel, was being placed at an institute way down south in Korea. Daniel helped me get through some really rough times and was one of the first people who actually made me feel comfortable and like I belonged here in Daebang. He was always joking with me and teasing me and I would tease him back - not many bosses in Korea will take that from their 'lower' employees. So that was a double whammy. Then . . . yes there is another 'then' . . . we found out that our head pastor, Pastor Kim was also leaving. We would now be getting a new director and have to learn how to run the school with him. Three strikes - you're out! That's what it made me feel like doing anyway, finding my way out of this place. Change and I aren't the greatest of acquaintances, and when Change brings along Caught Off Guard and the Unknown, I just really feel like running to my room and hiding under the covers.
I received a new roommate - she was to teach in the place of Henri for the last 3 weeks of February. It was a difficult time. She was an older woman from South Africa, I'm a younger woman from Wisconsin - we didn't really see eye to eye on temperature settings, housework, or conversation topics. Most days consisted of her sleeping all morning into the afternoon and me going out with friends or holing up in my room with my computer and lesson books. It was hard going from months of an apartment to myself to having to share it with someone with whom I was only cordially acquainted and felt no connection. She left to another institute on the Thursday of our 2 day term break, right before the new (and present) term started on Monday, March 4.
Then came the Friday when I found out that one of my dearest friends at this institute, a confidant and ally, the person with whom I'd always share the inevitable Saturday night question, "So . . . what do you want to do tonight?", was being moved to Daejon institute, which is about 2 hours south of Daebang. This happened 3 days before the new term started. We were both pretty bummed out and I will admit to this online audience that yes, I actually did cry. We both had feelings of resentment at the fact that the main office can uproot a teacher whenever they very well please and place them wherever they feel like they need another teacher. The end of every term is stressful because everyone has one question on their mind - "Am I going to get moved?" Anyway, it was rough at first, but I convinced myself that God was moving him there for some specific reason, to continue unfolding the plan of my friend's life in the way He knew it should. It was more difficult to convince my friend of this fact, but I think after a week, he's starting to adjust well. Although, he's really missing us up here and we're all really missing him.
My new roommate is pretty great. She's non-SDA but a good Christian woman. She's only a couple of years older than me, we're able to talk, we have some similar interests - I can't tell you how much I've been missing having someone here that is around my age. FINALLY! lol The new class schedule and classes have been challenging to say the least, but God really does answer prayers I'm finding out. It's crazy how He's successively answered so many of them - not at the exact time I want, but just at the time I need. Slightly humbling for me.
The new teachers, foreign coordinator, and Korean pastor/director we've gotten here will be good for us, I think. One of the teachers plays guitar AND trumpet! I can't believe how much I've missed singing songs along with a guitar but it made me feel right at camp (that's like saying 'right at home' since camp basically is my summer home. lol). The new director and coordinator bring such a fire and passion for God and for the sharing of Him with our students. It's really helped to start to put me back on track spiritually, which in turn puts me in a much better position to present as much of Christ as I can to my students during our 50 minutes together every day. Our new pastor/director, Pastor Park, can speak English amazingly well! He did last Sabbath's sermon in English while one of the Korean teachers translated it into Korean. I understood the whole thing and it's the first sermon in a long time at Daebang church from which I've come away and actually felt rejuvenated.
I wish that all of you could be here so I could show you my day to day life. It really is something like I've never experienced nor will experience again. Like my one of my fellow teachers said this weekend during Sabbath school, "When you live in Korea, you're life motto truly becomes 'Expect the Unexpected'". Anyway, I know at the top is says that I am writing this on Sunday night. Well, that's when I started it. However, it is now 10:20 Monday night and my pillow is quietly summoning me to take my respite from high heels, language frustrations and hilarities, and vomiting children for the night. Having to write this at random times over the course of 24 hours should tell you that I'm at least a little bit busy over here. lol I stay out of trouble for sure. I have so many stories that I could write on here but it would make this post WAAAAAY too long. So this will have to suffice for now. A brief overview of the major happenings in the past month or so in the life of Ashley Schebo - I actually think I like that better for a title than what I put as the actual title for this post. Good night all. Enjoy your Monday, because I've already made it through mine. ^_^
I realize that I have not posted much (or actually anything) in the past month. Please forgive me family and friends who actually read this blog. I know being busy is not an excuse, but it's the most common one used in Korea for not being able to do or not having done something. So I'm using it mostly because it's true and slightly because I feel like Korea has started to become a 'home' in a way.
This post promises to be merely a journal entry, an update if you will, of things that have happened in my life since the last time I wrote. There may or may not be a witty, bright, or enlightened conclusion at the end. Most likely not because it's Sunday night and I have to get up to start another full week of work in the morning. So don't hold your breath - I wouldn't want to be the cause of brain damage or a broken bone from passing out.
A little over 6 months have passed since I left the U.S. and landed on foreign soil. Excitement and terror then loneliness then acclamation and adaptation then normality then both a yearning for and a fear of home have worked their way through my mentality and emotions. The past month of February was full of changes, uncertainty, and anticipating, by Monday afternoon, the sleep I would get on the weekend.
First of all, I found out that my coordinator, Henri, the person on whom I have relied upon for much and who asks for nothing in return, suddenly told us that he had taken a new job at the Main institute training all the newbie teachers. This also meant that his wife, Belinda, who was a teacher here as well, would be leaving with him at the end of the term. We were pretty shocked since it was extremely sudden and unexpected. Then, we found out that our assistant Korean pastor, Pastor Daniel, was being placed at an institute way down south in Korea. Daniel helped me get through some really rough times and was one of the first people who actually made me feel comfortable and like I belonged here in Daebang. He was always joking with me and teasing me and I would tease him back - not many bosses in Korea will take that from their 'lower' employees. So that was a double whammy. Then . . . yes there is another 'then' . . . we found out that our head pastor, Pastor Kim was also leaving. We would now be getting a new director and have to learn how to run the school with him. Three strikes - you're out! That's what it made me feel like doing anyway, finding my way out of this place. Change and I aren't the greatest of acquaintances, and when Change brings along Caught Off Guard and the Unknown, I just really feel like running to my room and hiding under the covers.
I received a new roommate - she was to teach in the place of Henri for the last 3 weeks of February. It was a difficult time. She was an older woman from South Africa, I'm a younger woman from Wisconsin - we didn't really see eye to eye on temperature settings, housework, or conversation topics. Most days consisted of her sleeping all morning into the afternoon and me going out with friends or holing up in my room with my computer and lesson books. It was hard going from months of an apartment to myself to having to share it with someone with whom I was only cordially acquainted and felt no connection. She left to another institute on the Thursday of our 2 day term break, right before the new (and present) term started on Monday, March 4.
Then came the Friday when I found out that one of my dearest friends at this institute, a confidant and ally, the person with whom I'd always share the inevitable Saturday night question, "So . . . what do you want to do tonight?", was being moved to Daejon institute, which is about 2 hours south of Daebang. This happened 3 days before the new term started. We were both pretty bummed out and I will admit to this online audience that yes, I actually did cry. We both had feelings of resentment at the fact that the main office can uproot a teacher whenever they very well please and place them wherever they feel like they need another teacher. The end of every term is stressful because everyone has one question on their mind - "Am I going to get moved?" Anyway, it was rough at first, but I convinced myself that God was moving him there for some specific reason, to continue unfolding the plan of my friend's life in the way He knew it should. It was more difficult to convince my friend of this fact, but I think after a week, he's starting to adjust well. Although, he's really missing us up here and we're all really missing him.
My new roommate is pretty great. She's non-SDA but a good Christian woman. She's only a couple of years older than me, we're able to talk, we have some similar interests - I can't tell you how much I've been missing having someone here that is around my age. FINALLY! lol The new class schedule and classes have been challenging to say the least, but God really does answer prayers I'm finding out. It's crazy how He's successively answered so many of them - not at the exact time I want, but just at the time I need. Slightly humbling for me.
The new teachers, foreign coordinator, and Korean pastor/director we've gotten here will be good for us, I think. One of the teachers plays guitar AND trumpet! I can't believe how much I've missed singing songs along with a guitar but it made me feel right at camp (that's like saying 'right at home' since camp basically is my summer home. lol). The new director and coordinator bring such a fire and passion for God and for the sharing of Him with our students. It's really helped to start to put me back on track spiritually, which in turn puts me in a much better position to present as much of Christ as I can to my students during our 50 minutes together every day. Our new pastor/director, Pastor Park, can speak English amazingly well! He did last Sabbath's sermon in English while one of the Korean teachers translated it into Korean. I understood the whole thing and it's the first sermon in a long time at Daebang church from which I've come away and actually felt rejuvenated.
I wish that all of you could be here so I could show you my day to day life. It really is something like I've never experienced nor will experience again. Like my one of my fellow teachers said this weekend during Sabbath school, "When you live in Korea, you're life motto truly becomes 'Expect the Unexpected'". Anyway, I know at the top is says that I am writing this on Sunday night. Well, that's when I started it. However, it is now 10:20 Monday night and my pillow is quietly summoning me to take my respite from high heels, language frustrations and hilarities, and vomiting children for the night. Having to write this at random times over the course of 24 hours should tell you that I'm at least a little bit busy over here. lol I stay out of trouble for sure. I have so many stories that I could write on here but it would make this post WAAAAAY too long. So this will have to suffice for now. A brief overview of the major happenings in the past month or so in the life of Ashley Schebo - I actually think I like that better for a title than what I put as the actual title for this post. Good night all. Enjoy your Monday, because I've already made it through mine. ^_^
Friday, January 25, 2013
van Schebo?
Starry Night. Post-impressionist. The Potato Eaters. Cut off left ear. Sunflowers. Dutch.
Who?
That's right, Vincent van Gogh!
This past Sunday I had the chance to accompany my high school friend and her fiance to the Seoul Arts Center. Here we were able to view a plethora of van Gogh's original artwork at a temporary exhibit. It was the kind of opportunity I never would have had in Luck, WI, and I was so excited to take advantage of it.
An artist often portrays emotions through their work. Van Gogh seemed no exception to this. Some of his earlier paintings have darker and more earthy hues, inspired greatly by his surroundings at the time. A somber mood feels as though it's being exuded from his choice in tones. After moving to Paris, his scenery, how he was viewing life, his surroundings, changed. The brighter lighting inspired more vibrantly colored works. Softer and brighter hues and tones are used and the paintings feel more alive, a bit more happy and contented almost.
It got me thinking about life (such a philosopher I am). Which, by the way, I can't believe I actually had time to do, what with the craziness of my schedule this term and all. But seriously, each of our lives is a masterpiece in the making. From day one, our blank canvas is marked with strokes of genius and stupidity, compassion and cruelty. The choices we make, what we surround ourselves with, how we view life, with whom we associate ourselves - these all have an effect on the tones and hues that get mixed on our palettes.
How is your work of art starting to look? Are the colors mixed and muddled together? Are they bright and vibrant, or are your hues a little somber and forlorn looking right now? Is your canvas slathered in layer after layer of experiences? Are you starting to paint what is and will be over what was? No matter where you are in life - if you've messed up or fallen down, been successful or are still trying to figure out what to do, made mistakes, have regrets, loved or feel unlovable - it's still a masterpiece in the making. And I believe each masterpiece will remain unfinished until that final day, always missing a certain color here, a particular brushstroke there.
But there is a buyer to which it doesn't matter that all of these pieces aren't finished. In fact, that's His favorite part about them. He bought them all, every last one, with His blood and sacrifice. No higher price could be paid than life, no other currency is more valuable.
He's got an eye for art. After all, He is the greatest Artist of them all. He paints every sunset and sunrise and He sculpted the mountains and canyons. So, if you think you're a work of art not worth looking at, think again, because He thinks you're the most valuable of all.
It got me thinking about life (such a philosopher I am). Which, by the way, I can't believe I actually had time to do, what with the craziness of my schedule this term and all. But seriously, each of our lives is a masterpiece in the making. From day one, our blank canvas is marked with strokes of genius and stupidity, compassion and cruelty. The choices we make, what we surround ourselves with, how we view life, with whom we associate ourselves - these all have an effect on the tones and hues that get mixed on our palettes.
How is your work of art starting to look? Are the colors mixed and muddled together? Are they bright and vibrant, or are your hues a little somber and forlorn looking right now? Is your canvas slathered in layer after layer of experiences? Are you starting to paint what is and will be over what was? No matter where you are in life - if you've messed up or fallen down, been successful or are still trying to figure out what to do, made mistakes, have regrets, loved or feel unlovable - it's still a masterpiece in the making. And I believe each masterpiece will remain unfinished until that final day, always missing a certain color here, a particular brushstroke there.
But there is a buyer to which it doesn't matter that all of these pieces aren't finished. In fact, that's His favorite part about them. He bought them all, every last one, with His blood and sacrifice. No higher price could be paid than life, no other currency is more valuable.
He's got an eye for art. After all, He is the greatest Artist of them all. He paints every sunset and sunrise and He sculpted the mountains and canyons. So, if you think you're a work of art not worth looking at, think again, because He thinks you're the most valuable of all.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Motivation?
Vacation. What a splendid idea. Whoever came up with it was a genius.
Ending vacation. What a horrible idea. Whoever came up with it would be on my hit list if I had one.
"There is an end to everything, good things as well." Unfortunately the last half of this statement is as true as the first. And so, a 10 day period of frolicking in the warm weather of the Philippines and holing up in my apartment in the cold weather of Korea came to an end last week. It was inevitable.
I assumed that when I returned to work I would have no problem getting back into the swing of things. [insert buzzer sound] . . . wrong answer. Eight hours of classes starting at 6 a.m. and ending at 9:30 p.m. seems to have overwhelmed my senses in some way. All I can think about is how I don't want to wake up at 5 every morning and go to bed after 10 every night. All I can think about is the enormity of the amount of grades I will have to enter, tests and homework I will have to grade, and potential problems I might face. All I can think is, "Is it Friday yet?" Why? Why has my positive attitude suddenly decided to threaten to pack up and head south for the winter? Motivation, where have you gone? Stop hiding from me - this is not a time to play games.
Don't get me wrong, the first couple days of classes I have enjoyed - once I was already there. I really do love my students and I still love teaching as much as I ever have. So why, when I sit in my house with my books in front of me, can I focus on everything else BUT the task at hand.There is nothing that gives me the right to feel this way. There is no excuse to be made for my loss of drive and excitement at the prospect of new classes and challenges. I don't understand it and I don't like it. What is this mud that bogs me down as I try to keep moving forward? What is this ice that's spun me off onto the side of life's road? I need some AAA road side assistance or something to get me moving again.
To all of you who read this blog, I ask one thing of you. Please pray for me.
Ending vacation. What a horrible idea. Whoever came up with it would be on my hit list if I had one.
"There is an end to everything, good things as well." Unfortunately the last half of this statement is as true as the first. And so, a 10 day period of frolicking in the warm weather of the Philippines and holing up in my apartment in the cold weather of Korea came to an end last week. It was inevitable.
I assumed that when I returned to work I would have no problem getting back into the swing of things. [insert buzzer sound] . . . wrong answer. Eight hours of classes starting at 6 a.m. and ending at 9:30 p.m. seems to have overwhelmed my senses in some way. All I can think about is how I don't want to wake up at 5 every morning and go to bed after 10 every night. All I can think about is the enormity of the amount of grades I will have to enter, tests and homework I will have to grade, and potential problems I might face. All I can think is, "Is it Friday yet?" Why? Why has my positive attitude suddenly decided to threaten to pack up and head south for the winter? Motivation, where have you gone? Stop hiding from me - this is not a time to play games.
Don't get me wrong, the first couple days of classes I have enjoyed - once I was already there. I really do love my students and I still love teaching as much as I ever have. So why, when I sit in my house with my books in front of me, can I focus on everything else BUT the task at hand.There is nothing that gives me the right to feel this way. There is no excuse to be made for my loss of drive and excitement at the prospect of new classes and challenges. I don't understand it and I don't like it. What is this mud that bogs me down as I try to keep moving forward? What is this ice that's spun me off onto the side of life's road? I need some AAA road side assistance or something to get me moving again.
To all of you who read this blog, I ask one thing of you. Please pray for me.
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