As the week progressed, however, my students began to actually speak English, and listen to me. It's a little difficult to corral seven small children who don't fully understand the words that I speak, or in my case, yell, to them. Aside from losing my voice throughout the day, having to help pull their pants up after they "pooh-poohed... Ms.Elena, I pooh-poohed," and watching them try to grip a pencil while they try to trace the letters of the alphabet, things began to turn around. One girl that cried three days in a row, and refused to speak to me, was smiling and answering all my questions by Friday. I'm hoping that this will continue to improve, but I still don't know if it will be enough to keep me here.
After visiting with some old friends, I came to realize how much I would rather be in Portland right now. This isn't to say that I didn't have an amazing time with them. I did. We went out for dinner, drinks, and dancing, followed by a drunken stagger to the Itaewon Taco Bell at 2am. How could a sane human being not have a wonderful time with great company and activities like that? Table conversation while we had our dinner, however, made me realize how much I worry about my parents and what could potentially happen while I'm away. Despite the fact that we never actually have control over anything, I still feel like I should be at home, where I can help, if not prevent, in the event of something awful happening again.
When I stumbled out of bed at 9:30am on Saturday morning, still slightly tipsy from the night before, my feelings hadn't changed. I often wonder if I were living in a more appealing apartment if these thoughts would dissipate. It's doubtful, but I guess I will never know. And really, what's the point in dwelling on the impossible? I can't even get my school to follow through with the furnishings included in my contract, so why would they ever provide me with better housing? Anyway, enough with the bitching.
The rest of my weekend was spent cleaning my dirt sack apartment. I worked on it for a little over two hours and it's still not quite where I would like it to be. In order to clear my mind of the shear hatred I have toward this inanimate space, I went on another walking adventure to find a nearby catholic church. Bridget and I had been to this church during my last contract in Seoul, and it dawned on me that I am now within walking distance. It turns out that the third time really is the charm. When I woke up this morning, I got ready as fast as I could, and walked the 20 minute (city block) distance. It was unreasonably cold, so I was happy to pick up the pace.
The mass was really nice, and I met some interesting people. The guy ahead of me, a strange, small Korean man, suggested I join some of them for coffee and doughnuts as I was on my way out. I didn't want to be a dick, so I made an appearance, and had a tasty pastry (though one of the things I gave up for Lent was sweets - smart move, Elena). I talked to an old man, whom they call "the Professor." I laughed in response to the statement, only to find out that he actually was a professor for almost forty years. He was really sweet and talked to me about some of the places that he's visited in the States, both for sightseeing and for lectures/conferences. A couple of people chimed in when they heard I was from Portland, "Oh, that's such a lovely place." I younger guy, closer to my age, approached me and, in broken English, inquired where I was from. He tried to speak to me, but clearly couldn't understand many of my responses. He also gave me his name card and asked if I would call him sometime. When I tried to tell him that I don't have a phone yet, he responded with pure confusion. It makes sense.
Right as our conversation was ending, the odd, Korean man who had invited me entered the room. He led with "Ohhh, I want a doughnut so bad. But, I can't. I am sick. Very sick. Diarrhea! Cha, cha, cha!" Good thing he shook my hand earlier, and was eyeballing/breathing on all of the baked/deep fried goodies. Although I was a little disgusted, I couldn't hold back the laughter. I can never really fight humor, especially when it comes in the form of potty jokes. After briefly speaking to him about Oregon, I met a couple other locals and foreigners. The priest asked me if I spoke Korean, and before I could answer he said, "ah, probably no need for you, never mind." I decided it was time to be on my way.
It isn't much, but as I promised, I have a photo to share. This is a city block (about 20 regular blocks) from where I am living. Not a great photo, as it is from my iPod. I will add more soon!
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