First's & musings

Wow. I haven’t been here in a while…

The reason why I’m actually here is because I’ve had a very interesting week. I suppose all the other weeks comprising the last three or so months have been really interesting, and I could tell you all about my shopping trips—multiple stops at남대문, 동대문, 명동, 이대, 용산, COEX Mall, Technomart, and the outlets at문정—or of our many trips to Caribou and Coffee Bean, but this week has been interesting because it’s been full of first’s. It’s odd to actually blog about everyday events, but for some reason (perhaps my extreme exhaustion) they seem really interesting.

In the past two weeks I’ve been to a hospital three times. Yes, three times. In the past two weeks I’ve been to a hospital more times than I have in the past two years leading up to the past two weeks (definitely due to happy circumstances over the past two years). I suppose I made my first trip to a Korean hospital 29 April, 1983, but today’s visit was my first trip as an independent adult, functioning wholly on my behalf. I woke up at 8:30 this morning, which was really difficult; Saturday and Sunday nights I couldn’t sleep until about 7 a.m. due to killer insomnia, and Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights were spent waking up every three or four hours. Needless to say, I’m exhausted as I’m typing this right now, and it’s not even midnight. But back to the story: I woke up at 8:30 a.m. to make my 10:50 appointment. Being myself, I miscalculated my travel time, and arrived at Samsung Medical Center around 11. Samsung Medical Center, you say? Samsung, one of Korea’s leading TV, mp3 player, home appliance, computer and car manufacturers? Yes, indeed, this mega 재벌 also does health care.

I chose SMC because it has an international clinic and it’s fairly close to my house (about 40 minutes by subway). Not as close as the hospital next door, but I’m going for the international clinic here. The doctor spoke excellent English, and we discussed the vaccinations I’d need for my upcoming trip. He concluded that any vaccinations would not be effective by the time I leave next week, but I requested some shots to prepare for any other trips I may take, in addition to some booster shots I needed anyhow. Good thing I got them here, because health care is so much cheaper than back home!! He prescribed my vaccinations, and was kind enough to prescribe my follow-up shots so I wouldn’t have to spend more money on another consultation.

With the nurse’s limited English and my limited Korean, I made my payment and she directed me to the Ambulatory Care Unit, where I’ll go next time for my shots. After a short wait, another nurse took me into a cubicle and pulled the curtain. I was curious why she had to close the curtain; I’m not so modest as to be embarrassed by baring my forearm. The next few moments revealed the reason: she had four needles: one for each shoulder, one for my stomach, and one for my butt. I basically had to strip down and I really felt bad for the poor woman, having to look at my untanned, jigglesome flesh. But where is the first in this story? This was the first time (that I can remember) that I’ve had a shot in the butt! Fortunately, it didn’t cause any of the discomfort I had expected.

Another first: at the risk of sounding like a bombastic man’s view of a prissy female, I changed a fluorescent light bulb. (I also just spelled “fluorescent” correctly on the first try—go me!) I’ve changed many light bulbs, but this was my first fluorescent. I’m really just telling this because there’s an interesting story to accompany it. After three days of excreting, washing my face and showering aided solely by the hallway lights and a glowstick, I decided it was time to change my bathroom light bulb (in my defense, I was really sick and didn’t leave the house except to hit up the pharmacy for some meds). Without the assistance of a stepladder, I removed the cover and took out the bulb. Being my mother’s daughter, I washed the dishes in the sink so I could wash the grimy bulb cover. Then (again, being my mother’s daughter) I decided to remove all of the dishes from the cupboard, wash them, and wipe down the cupboard shelves. After that I decided to remove the food from my shelves and wipe down the remaining cupboards. Then I busted out the bleach…and I defy you to detect a germ in my kitchen!

The bleach quickly made a short trek to the bathroom, and by the lights of the glowstick and a flashlight, I cleaned the bathroom. Then, just to round everything off, I vacuumed the flat. I topped this all off by washing the bulb cover. Bought the bulbs (buy 1 get 1 free!), replaced it, screwed the cover back on, and that’s the end of that story!

Some more things just because I’m in the mood to talk:

Korean Snickers bars. Back home Snickers was my chocolate. Yeah, sometimes you’re in the mood for and Andes or Lindt or Reese’s, but Snickers was my chocolate of choice whenever I started getting that nasty shakiness that hits me. I guess the peanuts are just comforting or something. Well, one of my students gave me a Korean Snickers bar for Christmas, but I switched purses shortly thereafter and didn’t rediscover her gift until this week. We have Snickers in Korea, of course, but I just call it a Korean Snickers bar because I can’t remember the name, and it’s very similar to a Snicker’s bar. Very similar—but so much better. Whereas Snickers has peanuts, nougat and caramel topped in chocolate, Korean Snickers goes one step further: coconut! A delectable bite of Korean Snickers is like Snickers...with a smidgen of Mounds. mmmmm...

Sexy Kiss Kiss. It seems I’ve seen all the other strip clubs in the neighborhood, but this one escaped my attention until last Friday. I did just say “other strip clubs.” Apparently, there is no red-light district in our affluent district; strip clubs are located across from the Coffee Bean where I sit and read, upstairs from academies young students attend, and next to restaurants. This boggles my mind! Not only are strip clubs themselves degrading to both women and men, but the fact that they are in high-traffic areas with easy access indicates that they are acceptable venues of entertainment. Rooms that were filled with wifebeaters and dragon-imprinted fake silk back home are filled with custom-tailored suits over here. But what REALLY pisses me off is the effect that it has on me: the chauvinism, the male-dominance that is behind the acceptability of high-profile strip clubs is the same chauvinism and male-dominance that is imbedded in every nasty, disgusting asshole who eyerapes me on the subway.

Before you have a horrible view about Korean men, let me tell you about a wonderful 아저씨 I met at a bus stop. I was in 분당, but I was near 보정역, which is pretty far from my house. By the time I was ready to leave, the last train had already left (subways close SO early here!). I wasn’t sure if I had enough cash for a cab, so I went to the bus stop and tried my best. I found a bus that stopped in my neighborhood and waited for it. And waited. And waited. I probably waited about 45 minutes before I asked the nice 아저씨 for some help. He said that the bus I was waiting for had already made its last round, but directed me to a bus that would take me to 오리역, then gave me the number for the bus that would take me to my house.

The bad thing about living in a new place is that we all have a tendency to remember the wonderful things of the past, and to focus on the negative things of the present. Often we enter a new situation with rose-tinted views towards our new surroundings, which only magnifies our dissatisfaction when we detect things that are not to our liking. Here, in my new surroundings, I notice the eyerapage on the subway, but overlook every kind smile and all the effort people put forth in trying to communicate with a foreigner in their country who doesn’t speak their language.

I’ll admit: I occasionally find myself comparing Korea with the U.S., even though I constantly tell myself that it’s a different country and it’s SUPPOSED to be different! Some of the different things are atrocious. Some of the different things take some getting used to. The “personal bubble” popped a long time ago in Korea, if indeed it ever existed. Jostling, even pushing is just a way of life. At first I took offense whenever somebody bumped me without apologizing, or when 할머니 one-arm pushed me out of her way; now I just bump back and step aside for 할머니. I’m certain that when I get back to the States people will think I’m the rudest thing that ever powered down the sidewalk, but let’s hope I’ll adjust back to American manners when the time comes. Many of the different things are wonderful: 떡볶이carts on every street corner, for one. Outdoor markets. Crazy cab drivers who get you to work in less time than you thought possible. Coffee Bean. Eating roast octopus tentacles on the street without getting weird looks. 이대.

But some things can’t be compared. There are beautiful people everywhere, and I’ve seen my fair share here. My not-boyfriend who willingly gives me free consultation on all my electronics needs. My coworkers who frequently bring snacks to share. A few days ago two of my students saw me, grinned, ran up to me and hugged me. On a sidewalk. In public. Yesterday the pharmacist not only asked me for my symptoms and based the medicine off of that, but she wrote the doses and times on the box. Today the nurse reached all the way back to her high school education so she could give me instructions in English, in a country whose official language is Korean.

I don’t often have a reason to complain about this country, my mother’s country, now, I suppose, my country. I usually adjust pretty well to new situations. The few times I get really fed up I try to remind myself that the good outweighs the bad. But sometimes, it’s just refreshing to consciously remember all the beautiful and generous people that have come into my life in this new world. Not only does it prove that the good outweighs the bad, but it makes me truly appreciate these people we call Korean.