A Leisure Walk Around Lake Park

I've been holed up in my cheery little apartment for most of the weekend, forced to cancel my already-up-in-the-air plans to adventure up north to the islands of Ganghwado and Muuido (just off the coast of Incheon) after waking to an unsettled stomach Saturday morning. It seems that with the changing of seasons, and with the bursts of hot and cold air that vie for top billing from one day to the next, colds and sniffles are bound to come knocking on our door. So I suppose it wasn't much of a surprise to feel that my mind and body needed nothing more than peace, quiet, and rest -- a mini-retreat to heal and recondition -- before starting what promises to be a hectic workweek.



Saturday was the perfect stay-indoors day. Rain hurtled down through deep layers of gray clouds on and off from early morning when my eyes opened until the sun had long gone down. Cool winds blew through my apartment windows, the coolest I've felt thus far in Korea, sending me to my wardrobe for a sweatshirt and then crawling under my bedcovers to keep my toes cozy and warm. I managed to spend the entire day reading, resting, skimming new recipes, catching up on emails, making a few overseas phonecalls, cooking some soul food, and falling into a relaxed rhythm that felt just delicious.

Today, still craving quietness and downtime, I stayed in again, hoping to continue recharging my batteries and focus on a few personal projects. At some point in the day, I told myself, I'd get out for some fresh air and sunshine, especially since the day promised to be a beautiful one -- the air clearer and the temperature cooler from yesterday's showers, with bright blue skies and billowy clouds to entice me out.

Catching up on a few of my favorite blogs, I ran across a recent posting by my friend Michael, who lives not so far away in a busy urban sprawl in big-city Cheonan. His piece took me on a virtual walk through his neighborhood, to the bank, the local bakery, and past a park where local families swung their badminton rackets back and forth with gusto. I chuckled to myself as I read, because the imagery was so vivid, and so true to life in Korea.

Finally, around 5 pm, I headed out the door with my camera in hand, ready to pedal my bike down to Seosan's newest attraction, the beautiful Lake Park (which enjoyed its official opening ceremonies this weekend, and which, had completely slipped my mind). I had been here just two weeks ago, the day after moving into my new apartment, and had been so impressed with the beautifully landscaped surroundings that I vowed to return with my camera and capture some of its ambience. As the sun was starting to sink slowly in the sky, I figured I had just enough time to take a leisure walk around the park and savor a quiet Sunday evening in Seosan.



It took only a second or two after arriving to realize that there wasn't much peace and quiet to be had at the park this evening. Huge carnival tents flanked the southern edge of the park, where vendors offered a curious mix of cotton candy, fried peanut cakes, skewered meats, and boiled silkworms. Karaoke singers dressed in shiny hanbok costumes performed energetically on a stage overlooking the lake, and the whole area was crawling with young kids on bicycles, fathers and sons batting at badminton birdies, old men enjoying a smoke together, families parading along the inlaid-stone walking path. A large banner, hoisted by two helium balloons, flew over the lake, announcing to all that this was a day to be celebrated.

So I began my stroll around the park, feeling like something of a cross between a sore thumb and a celebrity as this solo "waegookin" (foreigner in Hangul) was approached again and again by the young and the curious who wanted to say hello to me. I don't know how I could still be a novelty in Seosan after being here for three months already, but these little faces were washed with such genuine curiosity that I couldn't help but feel a spirit of camaraderie with them. It was the least I could do, for all the energy they were sending in my direction, to offer a big hello and even bigger smile in return.

I stayed long enough to see the sun disappear behind a mountain of apartment buildings to the west, and content with my explorations for one day, headed back the way I came, ready to finish out the weekend with a little more R&R at home. It was refreshing to see a nice slice of Korean life at the park this evening, to be reminded that I am surrounded by thousands of people who, despite language and cultural barriers, are at the core much the same as me. Tonight I was part of the neighborhood, hanging out with Seosan's families and enjoying a pleasant celebration with my local community. And perfectly enough, it really did feel like home.

Reclaiming Happiness: Our Greatest Freedom

There has been a subtle building of negative emotion within me over the past week, which I haven't been able to pinpoint entirely until yesterday mid-morning, when I heard myself voicing a laundry list of concerns and worries to my best friend Jenny during a lengthy heart-to-heart phonecall. I've never been big on following the news, partly because I tend to be too wrapped up in my own little world, but mostly because I find it overwhelmingly depressing to hear about all of the terrible, horrible things going on in the world around me.

But during the past several weeks, I've been turning more and more to world news reports, as my daily "staff meeting discussions" (a.k.a. English practice for Harrison and Terry) have focused on U.S. politics, the upcoming election, recent plummets in the economy, hurricanes and natural disasters, and concerns over the stability of North Korea's leader Kim Jong-il. There has been no end of bad news in sight. And unfortunately, being exposed so many problems and their potential effects within a relatively short period of time has not left me unscathed.

It all came tumbling out yesterday, in what turned out to be more of a vent session than a mutually uplifting chat. Which got me thinking... What good can come of filling your mind with such pessimism? Sometimes information is not power, but a hindrance. There has to be some way of being aware of the world's happenings without getting pulled into the powerful vortex of negative thought. What I heard myself saying as I spoke with Jenny was, beyond anything else, fear of the unknown, wondering how I would respond, adapt, survive, thrive, if the world as we know it were to suddenly and drastically change? What if the economy suddenly crashed? What if war broke out in North Korea, just a few hundred kilometers away? What if, what it, what if...

So it was perfect timing that I finished reading an incredibly simple yet profound book called "Zen and the Art of Happiness," written by Chris Prentiss. I took it with me to Seoul last weekend, and finished it in the quiet space of early morning today, while still wrapped underneath my thin cotton bedsheets. The central message of this book can be summarized in one very important sentence: "Everything that happens to me is the best possible thing that can happen." Regardless of whether an illness befalls you, or you lose your job, or a friend, or your right arm, the path to happiness is as simple as acting as though whatever is causing the difficulty is for your maximum benefit. Not trying to find a shred of good that you can salvage from your miserable circumstances. Instead, actually believing that every event which comes to you is absolutely the best possible event that could occur, and that there is actually no other event that could benefit you any more than the circumstances you are currently experiencing.

Those are big thoughts, and quite unattractive to wrap your head around if you're used to perceiving life as most of us tend to do -- a series of hurdles to jump through, challenges to face, and uphill battles to fight. I am grateful to say that some time ago I removed myself from the grip of these limiting thoughts. Still, as this week has shown, my personal weaknesses can lead me back into the cloud of pessimism and confusion that stunt my ability to experience happiness in my life.

As I contemplate the unknown, the constantly shifting world around me, and my place within it, I have to acknowledge that thus far in my life, I have benefited incredibly from the experiences (which we humans conveniently label as "good" and "bad"), that life has presented to me. And as I had an opportunity to discuss with one of my middle school classes yesterday, the happiness that we feel within from one day to the next does not depend on anything other than our very own selves, our very own minds. We are truly the authors and creators of every next moment of our lives. We bring into our lives the energy and gravity of hope, happiness, and positive thought, or the energy and gravity of its polar opposite: fear, unhappiness, and negative thought.

I shared with them the inspirational story of Victor Frankl, a well-renowned psychologist and university professor who survived the concentration camps of the Holocaust, due to his diligence in maintaining a mindset of hope and belief, even amid such terrifying and unthinkable circumstances. He later went on to write a book entitled "Man's Search for Meaning," in which he elaborates on the one simple truth that paved the way to his mental, spiritual, and physical survival of the camps: Man's last freedom, the freedom which no one can ever take from you, is his response in any situation.

Browsing the Internet this morning, I came across a well-written weblog article that caused me to also stop and reflect on this power within us to choose happiness. In it, the author, a writer and traveler named Lee, shared his powerful response to visiting Tuol Sleng, a children's school turned into a living graveyard for prisoners during Cambodia's Khmer Rouge regime. I too had an emotional reaction as I read his words, my mind harking back to the vivid images, sensations, and feelings I kept with me during a viewing of the film "The Killing Fields", which I watched a year ago.

I cannot help but feel my own struggles, fears, and worries pale miserably in comparison when I am reminded of the challenges that countless others have faced, and continue to face, as they live out their lives in war-torn and poverty-ridden nations throughout the world. Yet even despite such extreme circumstances, the human spirit and its capacity to find meaning, hope, and happiness, prevails. It is a powerful message to each of us, isn't it? Happiness is... all around us, percolating inside us, holding its outstretched hand out to us, patiently, faithfully calling to us. My life is too precious to me to spend my days feeling trapped beneath the weight of endless worries. Thank you Chris, Victor, and Lee, for reminding me of what I had forgotten. I choose happiness.

Keeping it in the Bank: Waiting out the Dollar's Downward Tumble

The U.S. economy has been center-stage in discussions with my staff over this past week, as the tumbling stock market and the fallout of large companies going bust have ranked on the front-page headlines in Korea's major newspaper. The almighty U.S. dollar has a strong global impact, as I am learning first-hand from my humble post in this small-ish, export-driven Asian country.

A conversation with my dad several days ago clued me in that several big-name U.S. corporations were floundering -- and going bankrupt, all of which only perpetuates the state of fear and economic concern that propels recession and market instability. It is extremely disconcerting to learn that high-profile companies who have been around for decades have suddenly vaporized with the most recent of market tumbles. When such disaster looms for the "big guys," you start to worry about how its effects are going to trickle down to you. Because sooner or later, they will. Even if you're living across the pond in Korea.

Before coming to Korea this past summer, I studied conversion tables, trying to get a handle on the rate of exchange between the U.S. dollar and the Korean Won. The dollar was worth roughly 1,000 won, give or take, although during the early part of 2008, it was a very favorable 970K - 980K won to the dollar.

During the past three months that I've been living overseas, the value of the dollar has declined noticeably, enough that I've decided to hold off on money transfers back to the States in hopes that it will pick back up again. Certainly money wasn't the only reason I chose to come to Korea, but the opportunity to save a healthy chunk of change was definitely a big factor in the equation that led me here.

Last week's U.S. stock market nosedive resulted in a sizeable devaluation of the dollar here as well. I've suddenly found my salary and savings slashed by a whopping 20%. There's no other way to say it -- OUCH! My only solace is to keep in mind that in time, the market always evens itself out. But how long will it take to recover from recent downward trends? Will the dollar continue to plunge for months to come? How much farther will it fall? Are we heading towards a severe economic depression, as many financial analysts are forecasting? Or is this just a painful hiccup that will go away on its own without much more financial crisis?

For the time being, at least, I'll be keeping my earnings right here in Korea. And I'm lucky, in that regard, that I have a fairly long stretch to wait out a possible recovery. For those expats who don't have the same flexibility, particularly TEFL teachers who are ending contracts and returning home within the next month or two, their earnings can't help but be painfully squeezed. I'll be keeping an eye on the economy, to be sure. And in the meantime, I'll be hopeful that Americans won't lose their confidence in the economy. A further market collapse is one self-fulfilling prophecy this world doesn't need.

Time is Marching On...

You know that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you remind yourself of something you really need to do, and the longer you wait, the more behind you get? That's the feeling I've been trying to dislodge ever since my last major blog catch-up session. I've fallen terribly behind yet again...

Time keeps marching by, and lots keeps happening. As I've crested the three-month mark for my time here in Korea, I realize that some things (namely, ME) don't change the world over... I am pretty much the same person regardless of where in the world I happen to be. So it shouldn't be too surprising that I've managed yet again to create a mountainous list of goals, projects, books to read, topics to study, places to go, and things to experience while in Korea that have gotten me running around in circles. I seem to think I am super-human and have at my disposal a wrinkle in time that allows me to elasticize my day into 59.2 hours instead of the customary 24.
It's time to re-evaluate and prioritize, I suppose, so that I feel a little better about what I'm actually accomplishing.

In all fairness, a lot has transpired since I last wrote:

• I led my first all-adult English class for some of Seosan's well-known doctors (which subsequently folded when they decided my rate was more than they were willing to pay).
• I gave my weblog an entirely new look (which was a lot more time-intensive than I had imagined, but I'm really happy with the outcome)
  
• I moved to a new apartment (which, though smaller, is a much sunnier, happier place to be). My dungeon days are over :)
• I traveled to Seoul (yes, actually staying overnight this time) over the Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) holiday weekend, and had a great opportunity to see a unique blending of modern and traditional Korean life as families celebrated around me.
• I hosted a traveler visiting from Germany, who is making her way through Mongolia, China, and now Korea as part of a gap year experience before returning to her home country to pursue her career.
• And now, I am trying to get back to some sort of normalcy this week, meanwhile preparing for the bi-monthly written report-and-grading fest which usurped so much of my time two months ago. (I'm hoping I'm a bit more efficient at it this time around, but time will tell).

While there isn't any way to make up for lost time over the past few weeks, I'm hoping to make up for my absence of entries with a peace offering -- I have just finished uploading several new albums to my Flickr account, which includes a whole album of Chuseok festivities (including little children in traditional dress, playing traditional games, making traditional foods, and other fun stuff). And while I won't make any promises, I'm going to TRY to get back around to writing up a bit more about the foregoing events, particularly the Chuseok holiday, so that I can share with you a bit of what I've learned about this important Korean holiday.

And now, I'm behind on my Korean homework, so I'm off to practice some more hangul before starting work for the day! Have a wonderful day, everybody, I'll write again soon!

Does This Incense You?

I recently received an email from a group called NowPublic which runs news stories about current events (submitted by members in a similar vein to Wikipedia, from what I can tell). They had written to request the use of a photo I recently took in an article entitled “Incense Gives You Cancer, So Pray Less.” The title caught my interest, and my ego had been properly stroked with the request to publish my photo, so of course, I dropped in to take a look at the site.

The article presents an interesting conundrum for lovers of incense the world over and, as was obvious from the comments generated on the site, it managed to strike a nerve. Two readers even went so far as to refuse to share their photos on the grounds that the author’s tone was disrespectful and he was spreading baseless rumors. Ouch.

I'm currently living in Korea, where incense is a part of the religious tradition for a great portion of the population. It’s certainly not as omnipresent here as it was in Taiwan (where I also spent a year working as an English teacher), where the heavy scent of burnt offerings would spill from street-level shop fronts and chase you down the sidewalk. But if you visit the grounds of any Buddhist temple and peer respectfully inside, you will see faithful followers lighting joss sticks and beginning their successions of bows as the thick temple air swirls around them.

I find myself turning to the sticks when I’m craving the scent of their musky perfume, or the calming effect incense brings as I watch its feathery plumes of smoke meander through the air. It’s a somewhat entrancing, and certainly pleasant, experience, and the article didn’t dissuade me at all from continuing my incense tradition. I'm of the camp that most anything done in excess can't be good for you, but I have serious doubts that my infrequent use of incense could cause any more long-term damage than the many vices so easily accepted by mainstream culture.

I appreciated the comments of one poster who said,

“Probably inhaling any kind of smoke can cause cancer, but I also believe that cultivating a meditative state of mind, through meditation or prayer or what you want to call it, reduces the risk of getting cancer from anything. As with everything else; find a balance.”

In the end, I did opt to add my photo (you can see it here)... although the other 174 photos already linked the article proved to undermine my short-lived ego boost. I rather doubt that worshippers will start cutting back on incense usage in the way that dieters restrict their calories, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded that our health is, to a large extent, affected by our environment.

Western Indulgence and Peanut Butter Pancakes

It has been a week a Western indulgence for me. Call it what you like, but I think of it as my unique way of experiencing the culture shock that is bound to hit all foreigners away from home after a months abroad. While homesickness and loneliness haven't made an appearance (and I say that in great hopes that they'll keep their distance), my cravings for the foods that shaped my American appetite have increased exponentially over the past week or two.

I managed to hold my ground for long enough, I figured. So, this week, I gave in to my wanton whims and traded in my chopsticks and healthy Asian fare for a true slice of the SAD (Standard American Diet, that is). My soy sauce and pepper paste didn't even make it out of the fridge this week.

... Beginning with an overdue lunch at Pizza Hut with new friend Elana, a Canadian gal teaching at a university in neighboring Unsan, where we systematically dismantled and digested a cheese-laden pineapple pan pizza (her half with Canadian bacon, of course)...
... Picking up speed with a mid-week plate of pan-fried potatoes, sliced super thin and lightly fried with a dousing of salt, pepper, and vinegar...
... Building to a steady roar yesterday with a late-night run to the mini-mart across the street for a box of chewy chocolate chip cookies...
... and celebrated with a grand finale tonight, an utterly decadent twist on the familiar weekend breakfast plate of down-home pancakes (which is my true motivation for confessing this embarrassing display of complete and utter calorie denial).

Somewhere between my mouth-watering recollections of lazy Sunday brunches at home and the availability of Korean kitchen staples, I managed to strike a delicate balance, and emerged from my mini-kitchen tonight with a plate of syrupy goodness that really deserves to be shared. And repeated.

And I've decided that this is perhaps a bit more of what cooking in Korea is about for me, after all -- not a tossing aside of my culinary heritage (which is more an eclectic mix of the world's cuisines than straight American cooking anyway), but as a workshop for me to experiment with the added dimensions of Eastern influences in my cooking repertoire.

I had soy milk in my fridge tonight, a tub of raw peanuts in my cabinet, not an egg or stick of butter to my name, and an intense urge to sink my fork into a pile of pancakes. Feeling adventurous, I started pulling random baking ingredients out of my cupboard -- a bag of vanilla-flavored powder, ground cinnamon, oil, flour, baking powder, some terribly dark and granular brown sugar, and the remnants of a jar of peanut butter that I had paid top dollar for at the local grocery store a few weeks ago (I confess, the absurdity of paying $5 for a small-ish jar of generic PB completely escaped me at the time). Maple syrup was out of the question, though I did have a bottle of Korean malt syrup which was sweet enough to do the trick.

I got to work measuring and mixing up a bubbly bowlful of brown-tinted batter, using a recipe for eggless pancakes (vegan-style) as my starting point. The taste of roasted peanuts had been my inspiration, so I decided to layer the cakes coming hot off the griddle with a thin layer of peanut butter, and top the whole lot with a dousing of syrup and a handful of crushed-up peanuts. It turned out to be an absolutely winning combination.

For the peanut lovers among you (and especially anyone staring blankly at their Korean kitchen cupboards wondering what to do with your IHOP cravings), give this a try:

Peanut Butter Pancakes (Serves 2)
1/4 cup raw peanuts, chopped (divided)
1 cup flour (spoon-sifted)
2 Tbsp sugar (I used dark brown, though any kind should do)
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla powder (sub with vanilla extract)
a sprinkle of salt
a dash or two of cinnamon
1 cup soy milk (you can probably sub with regular milk, though the soy adds a nice flavor)
2 tablespoons oil (nothing strong-flavored, EVOO and sesame are out)
2 Tbsp peanut butter
1/2 cup syrup (maple works, as does Korean malt syrup)
Dry-roast the chopped peanuts in a griddle over medium heat until lightly toasted. Set aside to cool.
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla powder, salt, and cinnamon in a small bowl. Add milk, oil, and half of roasted peanuts; beat with a fork until smooth. Pour batter onto a hot, oiled griddle (in ~1/4-cup increments).
Flip quickly when bubbles break the surface, and the edges are a bit stiffened. Cook one minute longer, then transfer to a serving plate. Repeat with remaining batter.
As you stack the pancakes, smoothing a thin layer of peanut butter over each cake. When finished, spoon the remaining chopped peanuts over the pancake stack, and douse with syrup. Serve warm with a glass of soy milk. Enjoy!

A Cool Wind Blows

I left school a little after 9:00 this evening, all of my students long gone with their carpools and neighborhood walking groups. I was the last to leave, as is often the case -- Sunny (our head secretary) and Terry (the boss's wife and my co-teacher) are anxious to get back to their families, and I am just as anxious to quickly finish grading the day's papers and update the gradebook before going home to unwind in solitude. (I've long since abandoned the idea of bringing home my "teacher work," and I prefer to keep it that way.)

So again tonight I shut off the lights, heaved the heavy glass door closed, and locked it shut. As the magnetic lock clicked into place, it dawned on me. There was a change in the air. The breeze scuttling around behind my back was a cool one. For a moment, I wished I'd brought along a sweater. Fall was on the wings. The dogged, miserably damp and heavy heat of summer was all but over... How has the time gone so quickly?

When I arrived in Korea, it was barely summer. I remember lying in the guest bedroom in my host family's 10th floor apartment, pulling the weighty cotton blanket over my ankles and toes as a cool breeze swept in through the windows and tiptoed across the floor. Within weeks, I had moved in to my own apartment, and was spending the wee morning hours kicking the bed covers as my dainty oscillating fan tried to keep up with the lingering, thick heat.

And now the changing of seasons is whispering again, and it seems impossible that an entire summer has slipped away without my scarcely being aware of it. It feels as though summer was somehow pulled right out from under me, though I know that can't be so.

It was just five days ago that my little brother flew back to Utah to start the fall semester at BYU, where he is working on his undergrad. It was just yesterday that my parents and baby sister pulled out of the driveway together, for the last time, heading north along the interstate taking them to their new hometown, on the outskirts of Boston. They're relocating just in time for Emily to start her senior year in high school. And it was today that the bulk of my students resumed Korean public school after a month-long summer break.

Change is in the air everywhere, it seems, stretching all the way from this side of the world to the other, touching even my roots back home. Change has been blowing through Seosan as I've had to say goodbye to yet another good friend who helped to make my first few months here memorable, and to several students I adore who have been admitted to EGA-II. And change will continue to keep me on my toes, I am sure, as the months march on. New friends to make, new students to teach, a new apartment to settle into, a new season to greet. Bring on September, I'm ready for another cool wind to blow...