Sunday, August 13th
11:33 p.m.


Last night in Korea. I'm finally glad that I'm going home. Just earlier this week I wasn't, though. I felt that I didn't want to leave, that everything at home would be either boring or stressful, and I was dreading tomorrow morning. But there comes a time when you don't really feel like going clubbing anymore, when it occurs to you that you probably won't be missing much if you don't make it to this tourist spot or that one, when the chance to go shopping doesn't make you jump up and run to the door anymore. It was Wednesday night when I suddenly realized it: I was ready to go home. And then I didn't want to wait another day. :)

Of course, I still feel a little intimidated at the thought of everything that's going to hit me at once after I arrive - moving to a different apartment, going in for laser refractive surgery on my eyes, getting ready for MORE classes to start, dealing with piles of mail and BILLS, trying to sell my car - yes, I'm selling my beloved car. The "reverse culture shock," as it's usually called, will hit me the worst, though, I think. When I went to Itaewon, where half the people walking around are NOT Korean, on Wednesday - more on that later - it really threw me for a loop. It just felt so foreign to me. I'm afraid of how weirded out I will feel when I get home and MOST people are white, and English is everywhere - menus, signs, everyone's lips - when there is no subway, and people (for the most part) obey the law when they drive, and I will totally blend in - when everything will just be so unfamiliar, and sometimes I'll really wish that I were somewhere else - here. Not to mention the jet lag . . . OK, get this: I'm leaving Seoul at 9:55 a.m. tomorrow morning - that's Monday the 14th. Stop in Tokyo, change planes, arrive in Chicago at 11:30 a.m. ON MONDAY THE 14TH. And then I have to go through customs and then WAIT for a couple of hours until I can leave for Detroit at 1:20 p.m. By the time I finally get there, get off the plane, get my luggage, and get home, it's going to feel like seven in the morning on Tuesday to me - 27 hours after wake-up - when it'll actually only be barely dinner time Monday night. Crazy.

There are other things that tell me that it's time to leave too. After six or seven weeks in each other's company, we're all starting to get on each other's nerves. We used to find ourselves in occasional uncomfortable situations from which tact and generosity could get us out, but now it just gets closer and closer to an argument. I haven't actually gotten in an all-out fight with anyone, but I've come close (again, more on that later). Plus, my poor hair is getting fussy after being subjected to the same shampoo and conditioner for two straight months. Or maybe it's the water. It seems to be good for the skin, but it might be hard on the hair. Either way, I need to get me home and give my cheveux a little variety. :)

So I checked out of the dorm and got my $50 damage deposit back - in won, of course - and not without difficulty either. For some reason my name was in the UC section on the check-out list, which meant that they thought I didn't pay the deposit in the first place. (UC students must have a slightly different application procedure or something.) So I dug out the receipt that they had sent me at the beginning of the summer - I had to unpack an entire box, already taped and tied, to get to it - and my U of M student ID card to help me argue my point. How unpleasant.

Then I walked around Shinchon for awhile, taking pictures and doing some last-minute shopping. I had my last melon bar and my last bowl of paht-ping-su - apparently I'd already had my last little snack from my favorite street vendor, as he wasn't there today - and I also went to Burger King. My last day in Korea and I go to Burger King. I know, I suck. But I hadn't been there yet, and I didn't really feel like searching for a restaurant that offered one of the two dishes that I've been eating every day for two whole months, so I decided to give it a try. Whopper with cheese, 3500 won. That's like $3.25. Geez. But it was really good - and this is coming from a vegetarian! So if you're ever in Korea and you really want to go to a fast food restaurant, go to Burger King. Enough said.

It's strange how all the Western fast food joints in Korea have pictures of old American singers like Elvis Presley and Louis Armstrong all over the walls. Also strange how "Western" usually means American. And how American usually means white. Then again, when you really think about it, maybe it's not that strange. Just sad.

I did find out exactly what had happened to Max. He broke his hand punching some guy, but that didn't keep him from doing it over and over again. Apparently when they took him to the hospital there was a bone sticking out of the back of his hand. Fighting, especially when drunk, is a big thing in Korea, just in case you haven't noticed that yet. At least we can say that the people in this program didn't neglect that part of the culture anyway. . . .

I do like being a white woman in this country. Granted, the staring does get a bit unnerving sometimes - apparently it's not considered rude here - but it's still nice to get so much attention. Everyone else in this program knows my name, and whenever they see me they say, "Hi Jessica." (If only I could remember their names as well.) On two occasions complete strangers in PC-bongs have bought me a canned beverage, just to be nice. (OK, the second guy was probably trying to make up for spilling his hot tea on me.) But everywhere I go, random people on the street say, "Hello!" They don't greet each other like that. It makes me feel good.

I talked to Mike on the phone as a break from working on my research paper Thursday night, and when I came back to my room and went to sit down at my desk, something furry and about the size of two big rats scurried away across the room. My heart stopped. I screamed. I had no idea where it was or what kind of critter it was (as in, whether or not it might bite), so I jumped up on my chair and peered around the room. No success. Then I jumped over to my bed, ran across it to the door, opened it, jumped out into the hallway, and yelled, "Omigod, you guys!" No one came out of their rooms. Just ignoring me, I guess. So I tried to catch my breath - my heart was still pumping that adrenaline through my body as though I were racing for my life to the top of Mt. Everest or something - and tried to locate the critter again. Two shiny green eyes under my roommate's chair - it was a cat! "Omigod, you guys! There's a cat in my room!" Four people immediately zoomed into the hallway.

Oseen walked into the room about a minute later, a big calm smile on her face.

Jessica: "Oseen! There's a cat in our room!" Brief pause. Jessica after brain engages: "Is this your cat?!"

She nods. It turned out that she had picked it up off the street on the way home that day. I had been warned away from strays before I came, but I figured, she's a native, so she knows what she's doing. "Why didn't you TELL me?! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Oseen called it a "kitten." It was too big to be a kitten, but the poor thing was just skin and bones - and barely that - so it looked like a kitten, albeit a long one. And the only food that we had to give to her was French bread, which we fed to her in little bits, and water, which she refused to drink, but it was too close to curfew to go shopping. Right after that Oseen went to bed, so all my friends went back to their rooms, and I went back to work. Or tried to anyway, in between petting the cat and watching her explore our little room and laughing at her CONSTANT little mews. I thought, it's adorable now, but it's a good thing that I'm leaving in a week, because I'll hate it by then. By the morning she was asleep. At about 8 a.m. I took another break and went next-door to the faculty dining room in the KLI (Korean Language Institute) Building to buy her some milk. (I didn't find out until later that cats are lactose-intolerant - not that anything bad happened as a result.) When I came back, I woke her up and fed her some - i noticed that in the daylight her eyes were hazel - and then I went to a computer lab. When I came back that afternoon, after I had taken my exam and turned in my paper, both my roommate and her kitten were gone. I asked Oseen about it the next day, and she said that she "let her go" because she didn't think the cat really liked it here. Whatever.

One of the American schools that Oseen is thinking about transferring to now is Michigan. I think that's because Ayana and I and all the other Michigan students here have been talking about the city and the sports and the students and the professors and the school so much. I've actually heard a lot of talk amongst the people in this program about transferring to Ann Arbor. Yay! I'm all about folks loving my school! I told them that if they had any questions or needed a local contact or something to just e-mail me or give me a call, and I would do everything that I could. And I mean it. :)

On Wednesday I went to the Korean War Memorial Museum in Itaewon with some of my friends. The place was teeming with young Korean men in camouflage uniforms because they can get in free.


A few last random observations about Korea:

Bulgogi is cooked on a round grill in the center of the table. Bibimbap and paht-ping-su are meant to be thoroughly mixed before they're eaten. "Carruh" is curry. "Bo-kum-bap" is fried rice. Napkins are little more than small squares of tissue. In this country, popsicles are like Trix - just for kids - so you get a lot of weird looks when you're eating one. Sending a postcard to the United States costs 350 won - that's about 30 cents, less than a letter - and it takes about a week to get there. Mail from the States takes about a week to arrive in Seoul as well. Flowers are not wrapped in plastic or tissue paper here. They come in this bright-colored cloth-like material complete with ribbons and everything - much better than in the States. All the girls in the program have been like, "Somebody buy me flowers!" Me included, of course. Not that it worked.

Many Koreans, especially Korean-Americans, have two names: a Korean name, and an American name - often totally unrelated to one another. Goofy. On more than one occasion I've seen American $2 bills on sale in stores for 8,000 won (nearly eight bucks) each. The humidity in this country is unbelievable. All of my papers and books and clothes feel damp all the time. It permeates EVERYTHING.

There is a Korean equivalent of Times Square in Seoul. I've been there several times in taxis going to Kangnam. They have a big-screen TV and everything.

In the United States, a business that has existed for a long time will often post the year when it was established on a sign out front, such as "Since 1964" or "Established 1972." Not so in Korea: EVERY business posts the year when it was established out front. I even saw one restaurant with "Since 2000" on the sign.

No one uses their left hand for anything in Korea. It's improper to hand anyone anything or accept anything with just your left hand, and it's considered a sign of low intelligence to write with your left hand. Young schoolchildren who seem to favor their left are forced to learn to use their right hand for everything. Even in the Millenium Building, where all our classes took place, all of the desks are right-handed, and the Millenium Building was just completed this year. We were the first students ever to use it. There was still plastic on everything when we got in there. They're actually not even done with it yet.

Not only CAN many Korean women NOT work outside the home if they choose, but many Korean women don't even WANT to work outside the home. Most of the other girls in my "Women in Korea" class seemed to be set on the role of housewife for themselves in the future. And when you consider that Korean men's views on women's lib are even farther behind than women's, you recognize the very different situation for feminism in Korea than that in the United States.


I still remember the way that I felt on the airplane to Korea all those weeks ago. A few hours into the flight, I was like, "We've been on this plane a long time. I mean, I've been to Europe, and that takes a long time, but it's been a LONG time. We must be almost there." A little while later the map came up on the big screen. We had only moved a few inches and were still over Canada. And we were over Canada for a LOOONG time. I'm not looking forward to that.

I also remember the first time that I ever heard Korean. I turned to the man sitting next to me and asked him if that's what it was. He answered yes, and I said, "It's beautiful!" Then he told me that he'd never thought about it that way before. Interesting how different things appear to those for whom it is unfamiliar . . .

So much for sleep. It's time to go to the airport.



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