Saturday, August 5th; 12:30 a.m.

Peanut butter sandwich cookies, hot chocolate with marshmallows, and a good book - not my typical Friday night, but I'm definitely enjoying it. I'm reading ANGELA'S ASHES right now. I think I'm going dancing tomorrow night, at a club called Juliana, one of the nicest - and most expensive - night spots in Seoul. And, like Danco, well-known for booking. Which reminds me, I never wrote about LAST weekend.

Last weekend a big group of Yonsei students went to Danco on Friday night, purportedly to celebrate someone's birthday. I went too, and a few of us got a table together: five beers and a huge bowl of milk and fruit for $50 - $10 a person. [That's not bad, by the way, in case you were wondering. :)] We danced for awhile. Korean music is... interesting. Some of it sounds suspiciously like particular American songs that I know, but it's catchy - which is a good thing because they play the most popular songs over and over again. You'll hear them everywhere you go, sometimes as often as several times a night, even in clubs. At Danco last weekend they played Eminem's "The Real Slim Shady" at least twice, each of the other songs in the Korean Top Ten about four times, and Britney Spears twice in a row - and that was just while I was there.

So I finally tried booking. Here's how it works: A guy tells one of the waiters - all male - to bring him a woman, so the waiter walks up to your table, grabs you by the wrist, leads you to the guy's table, and pushes you into a seat. Honest to God, I saw one girl trying to resist and being PULLED out of her seat by a waiter and DRAGGED across the floor. Clara got a bruise on her thigh from being seated so emphatically. Anyway, once you sit down, you are supposed to try a little conversation. If he likes you, he offers you a drink. Otherwise he ignores you, which means you are dismissed. Sometimes he'll actually tell you to go away. The girl is also free to leave if she's not interested, which usually is the case. Then the waiter will bring someone else. I got booked four times last Friday, which is apparently a lot, judging by other people's reactions when I tell them that. This was my experience:

The first time I was brought to a private room with a karaoke machine. There were four guys and no other girls yet. They all spoke English. "We've never done this with an American before," one guy said.

"Do you mean you've never done it with a Korean-American before, or you've never done it with a white person?"

"A white person," he clarified. "It's weird."

They were all a little immature and a little drunk. The most immature one was the one who took a liking to me, which he demonstrated by repeatedly asking if he could "have" my possessions and insulting me under the guise of joking. By then a few other girls had come and gone. I only stayed because I was entertained, but I left pretty soon too.

As soon as I sat down and was about to describe my experience to one of my companions, another waiter came and grabbed me by the arm. This time I went to a table right next to mine, where once again there were no other women yet and everyone was even more drunk than the first group. This guy was really nice, though - the only nice guy I met that night. I talked to him for awhile and joined his group on the dance floor for a few songs, but then I got tired and left him so that I could sit down. Although both guys had offered me some alcohol, I did not partake.

The third guy dismissed me after a very brief chat, and the fourth guy couldn't speak a word of English, so that was the end of that. When I was preparing to leave, ANOTHER waiter tried to grab my arm and take me to ANOTHER table, saying, "Booking? Booking?" but I pulled free and said, "No! No more booking! Leave me the hell alone!" A bunch of guys from Yonsei were standing right in front of me, and we all laughed.

On Saturday I had dinner with a Korean family - Victor's family. (He's the one that I met through one of the R.A.'s.) He showed up at the dorm just after 12:30 p.m. with his wife and son and daughter in the backseat. I was wearing tan pants and a blue cotton Polo T-shirt with buttons and a collar and everything, but he told me to change into "short pants" because we were going swimming. So I changed into a pair of shorts and stuffed my swimsuit into my purse with the little jar of candy that I'd bought at a bakery that morning to give as a gift of appreciation. I was given the front passenger seat, and then Victor drove to Itaewon to pick up his boss, an older British gentleman named Ian, who also sat in the back. The ride took about two hours because of the weekend traffic. We were going to one of Victor's houses in the country just outside of Seoul, near the land that his parents farm, for a picnic, but it started to rain, so we ate in an old traditional-style house that he also owns but apparently never uses. Dinner consisted of rice and bulgogi - meat, meat, meat - on a little portable gas grill on the floor. Ian had brought beer and soju, but I was not in the mood. I really enjoyed the interesting intelligent conversation that I had with him though. Victor spoke excellent English as well. Apparently he lived in Columbus, Ohio, for a few years once.

By the end of dinner, the rain had stopped, so we trekked through the woods and across a precipitous slope to their private stream. Then we took off our shoes and climbed/slid down the slippery rocks to the little pond below. Ian stripped down to a Speedo-style swimsuit - typical for Europeans - and Victor took off his shirt, but the kids just wore their clothes, and his wife didn't even go in the water, so I decided not to change into my swimsuit and just waded to a rock where I sat and ate grapes and watched the children play. Austin and Sally, American ages 7 and 4 respectively, I think, are absolutely adorable. And so well-behaved. I splashed them and shot them with their big water gun, but they didn't return nearly as much as they received. Sally's going to be a bit of a tomboy. I was very pleased to see that.

After a couple of hours we went back to the house for more rice and some cut-up fruit. Apparently they approved of my conduct, for I was invited back for tomorrow, when there will be at least one other family involved and some more kids. Victor also said that I could bring a friend - so I invited Ann - and he told me to bring an extra pair of "short pants" so that I could go swimming this time. So I'm not sure whether I should wear my swimsuit or not. Anyway, I had a lovely and authentic time. :)

Last week I went out for dinner with Kuan, my Taiwanese roommate from the field trip and an emphatic carnivore, and Ann, and we ended up at a restaurant where none of us could decipher a word on the menu, but the prices looked good. I was frustrated because I was starving but not at all in the mood for meat, but I was trying to be optimistic. As long as I didn't get squid...

The waitress managed to impart the fact that one side of the menu listed rice dishes and the other side ramen. Ann and Kuan ordered curry rice, and, on a whim, I pointed to the fourth item on the ramen side, whatever it was. Who would have guessed that in this country where just about EVERYTHING contains meat, I would end up with a vegetarian dish - with tofu, no less? It was unbelievably spicy, though. We were all surprised about that, because it wasn't that red, which is usually the indicator. Still, I loved it - shoveled it in until my nose was running and my left eye - the weak one, I've discovered - was leaking all over my cheek. And then I discovered something: If you put a piece of one of the sweet pickled vegetables that is served with every meal into your mouth at the same time as something spicy, they cancel each other out in a most pleasant manner. Good advice for those who don't like their food hot. Don't screw up and use kimchi, though. It's already spicy.

The first time that I got drunk was at a club called "Double Double," by the way. Good because it's cheap. The second time, when I went with Julia and Larry and Andrew and everyone, was at "Three Dollars" - not so cheap, but they have excellent food, like French fries and chicken nuggets shaped like the suits on playing cards with honey-mustard sauce. Still have to go to "Blue Monkey."

I think that's enough for tonight.

4:02 p.m.

So far there have been two big fights while I've been in Korea: one a couple of weeks ago between ID (International Division) people in front of the dorm right before curfew - everyone was drunk, someone punched a hole through a wall, a girl was accidentally knocked down the stairs, and I think someone got a black eye - and one last night between a few ID people and a bunch of natives at a club called "Deep House." I was actually almost going to go there myself, but I felt tired, so I decided to take a nap instead. Sean, Christian, Max, and Sean's sister, who lives around here, were sitting at a table when four natives at a different table threw something at them. Sean's sister went over and asked them why, and they threw a glass of beer in her face. So the ID guys jumped up and walked right over there, and Max threw the first punch. Then four more natives appeared out of nowhere, and they started breaking bottles and going at the Korean-Americans with them, The whole thing ended at the police station, where the owner of Deep House apologized to the ID guys and said, "Come by before you leave" - like they're really going to do that. Now Sean has bite-marks on his arms, and I think Max is in the hospital. It's what everyone's talking about today.

My roommate wants to drop out of Yonsei and apply to some American schools. She quit her job as the teaching assistant in my Aesthetics class last week. Now she's working on her essay. Could you imagine writing an entire essay for a college application - in something other than your native language? English is hard enough! She showed me the first three sentences yesterday, and I agreed to help her. Needless to say, she's got a long way to go.

I bought a silver necklace with a cross pendant a couple of weeks ago to remind me of the promises that I made to God and myself at the YICF retreat and to show everyone else the kind of person that I am. I've been trying to wear it every day, but it was one of the pieces that broke, so I had to wait awhile while they were repairing it.

I finally forced myself to try to figure out the system in the school cafeteria when I saw that they were serving ja jang bap (rice with black bean sauce) a couple of weeks ago. You go up to the booth in the northeast corner of the room and give one of the ladies 1,500 won (a little less than $1.50) in exchange for a little metal token with a bit of red paint on it. You take that up to the silver counter along the south wall, picking up chopsticks and a spoon on the way. Then you get a tray off the rack and go to either the right or the left, depending on which meal you want to eat. You drop your token in a basket, and then they give you the food. When you're done you take your tray to the southeast corner of the room where you put your silverware in a little hole in the counter, throw away your trash, and put your tray on the conveyor belt. You get a cup, have a drink of water, and put it into a plastic dishwasher tray to be washed. Then you take a little paper napkin out of one of the dispensers by the mirrors to wipe your face and hands. That's what I've figured out.

There is other food to be bought in the cafeteria if you don't want whatever's on the menu that day. You can purchase tickets for grilled tuna fish sandwiches, kimbap (rice and vegetables wrapped in tough sheets of something leafy green), and other foods in the mini-convenience store in the northwest corner of the room, which you can then redeem along the west wall. I've done that many times. You can only take so many grilled tuna fish sandwiches, though.

The day the cafeteria was serving ja jang bap a guy came up to me while I was eating and asked if he could sit down. "Of course," I said, so he did and proceeded to ask me some questions, mostly small talk. Then he got to the point.

"I am in a meditation group. Have you ever tried anything like meditation before?" he asked me.

"Yes," I replied. "I'm a Christian, and we do meditation in my church."

"Oh, you're a Christian!" he said.

"Yes."

"So how do you feel after meditation?"

I thought for a moment. "Calm and at peace."

"It is the same as our meditation: Afterwards you feel peaceful."

Then he explained that he is in a meditation group, and their token American has recently returned to America, so they are looking for someone to replace him, and he would like to give me a pamphlet with more information about the type of meditation that is done in this group.

"Are you Buddhist?" I asked him, for I could see that he was from the beads in his hand.

"Yes," he said, somewhat surprised and a little excited. He told me that he is pleased because I seem very open-minded, which is rare in his experience. I told him that I hear that a lot. I took the pamphlet with his e-mail address on the back, and he took down my e-mail address and wrote to me later that day.

He felt something positive in my presence, he wrote, and he encouraged me to join the meditation group. I read the pamphlet that he'd given me with the interest of someone who spontaneously decides to live in a completely foreign country for two months just to learn about a different culture and replied, "I am a Christian, and I am more than satisfied with that, but thank you very much for being so kind." And that was the end of that.

There are bugs, bugs everywhere! All around me at my desk and in my bed at night and all over the ceiling and the floor downstairs, flying and crawling and jumping, big and small. . . They swarm you and you feel them touching you and they nip you. . . . It turns your stomach and makes your skin crawl. The loud noises that I thought came from birds in the trees are actually made by big black bugs. And it's all getting worse as the summer progresses. I can't wait to get out of this country and away from all the bugs.

They say that everyone will get sick at least once while they're living away from home - by week three at the latest. Yet here I've been in Korea for six weeks and not sick a single day, and now with just over a week to go my nose is running and I'm sneezing all the time. I'll be lucky to get over it before I leave, and then I'll head back home, where they say that you'll get sick again - at the latest by week three - right when fall classes begin, and almost everyone gets sick in the first month back at school. By then my immune system will be so tired from fighting off all these diseases that I may just collapse and die. That would not be good, because then I'd never be able to come back to Korea to eat more paht-ping-su.

Going to Juliana tonight. . . :)


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