Kimchi, not for me

Living in a foreign country makes one appreciate the simplicity of so many things from back home. It also turns small things into huge accomplishments. For example, last week I called and ordered some chicken to be delivered to our house. The impressive part is that I did it all in Korean. As my friends here can verify, I am not even mildly proficient in Korean. I just know some helpful bits and pieces. Thinking about it now, I think it took more courage than anything else to call and order. Talking on the phone, without being able to depend on gestures and body language (or pictures even, if necessary) is daunting. But I called, rattled off my address, threw in "I don't speak Korean", told them what I wanted, asked the total, said thank you, and hung up. And except for hanging up, all of the above was done in Korean. When I emerged from my room (where I had hidden so I could be embarrassed by myself if it didn't go well), I felt extremely triumphant.

Oh yeah! I almost forgot! I actually called information first to get the number to this chicken place! I was concentrating so hard on hearing the numbers (which would be in Korean), that I wrote down the first two, which is the city code, which I already knew, and missed the next four, and was able to get the last four. (Most Korean land-lines have 8 digits, and cell phones have 10-11 digits.) I actually had to call again to get those four in-between numbers. I was pretty darn proud of myself for that too.

Then today I finally figured out how to say "turn right after the bridge" in Korean. If you were familiar with my neighborhood, you'd understand that's a vital bit of direction that must be given to taxi drivers.

So I'm at least mildly impressed with myself. But then there's that voice in the back of my head saying, "Yeah...great job. But...you're leaving pretty soon. Seems kind of pointless, doesn't it?" Cynical and semi-realistic voice in the back of my head, you are banished! I'll have none of your talk!

I'm in a strange mood. My stomach started hurting today at lunch - not due to the food, today was a good day. I think it initially started because of the awkward situation I found myself in. One of the kindergartener's moms was at the kindergarten today. She actually has two daughters that attend there, and brought her little 2 year old (whose American age is definitely NOT two). I was sitting at lunch with a couple of the Korean teachers and this mom, and someone said something about me leaving. No lie, this poor sweet dear mom started to cry! I was appalled at myself! More than that, I had NO idea what to do. Should I cry too? Should I leave (like, the table)? Apologize? Try to explain why I'm leaving? In the end, I chose to look embarrassed, awkward, compliment all three of her daughters, and try (without success, I might add) to change the subject. It also didn't help that the Korean teachers (two of them, the kindy administrator, and the cook) launched into a discussion that definitely had to do with me, and me leaving, but I could not understand ANY of what they were saying, and no one would translate for me. Perhaps in another situation I'd get worried about what they were saying, but all the women at these table are just sweet and amazing, and for some reason, seem to really like me. It's just so different from my last job, where I wasn't even allowed to tell my students that I was leaving until my last day, I knew none of their parents - it was just all so impersonal. In some ways it is going to be really sad and really hard to leave. After lunch, the administrator of the kindergarten, who is also a friend of mine, came and hugged me and said, "Please don't go!" Even though I know I'm ready to go, and I'm getting excited about going, it will still be hard. I will definitely cry. But at the same time, it's nice to be loved.