Until next time...

On Friday, we shipped home two boxes (which we'll see again sometime at the end of April), and went to the tax office to apply for our refunds. Yesterday, we cleaned out all our kitchen cupboards and our fridge. Tonight, we have filled two suitcases with clothes and miscellaneous items. Tomorrow our Internet will be disconnected, and more will be packed. We are in the throes of dismantling.

All that we do, all that has become so much a part of our daily routine over the past year, we are now acutely aware of, noticing tiny details and realizing that it may be for the last time. Last night, we ate spicy tofu for what was the final time (I'm sure our stomach linings, if they could talk, would sincerely express their gratitude).

There are so many experiences we've had, so many things we've seen and all we've learned about our surroundings and about ourselves. We will be sad to go. We want to come back. We miss it already.

The following, a brief list of all different memories, good and bad, that we'll carry with us, each of which we could easily write a blog entry about....the people, so contradictory in their combination of warmth and aggressiveness, subtlety and painful bluntness, their love of children, the tendency of middle-aged men to dress in expensive hiking gear for a 15-minute climb, just as an excuse to knock back some whiskey (hiking-brand) with their friends...crazy taxis (some with TVs installed in the dashboards so the drivers can "watch their stories" at red lights, or green lights, or while driving madly down an 18-lane freeway) that you exit with a sigh of relief and a greater appreciation for life.....Having had a chance to be in Korea during the World Cup last June, finding ourselves swept up in the unbridled enthusiasm of 48 million people, watching the Red Devils play Togo on a giant outdoor TV, sandwiched between the road and Lotte Mart, (ah, Lotte Mart, how we'll miss your free samples, your raucous Sunday-evening atmosphere, the employees all hawking their wares, giving you little discouts here and there if you bargain for it, or if you have a cute white baby, all summed up so well by Mom when she visited for the first time: "Why is everybody shouting at each other?!")...but we digress.... back to World Cup soccer.... waking up at 6 am from the cheers of your entire apartment block, from the entire neighborhood, many people congregated outside watching the aforementioned outdoor TV all watching the game against France that started at 4 am local time......what else.... did we mention spicy tofu? How about bulgogi (literally means "fire meat", though it's not at all spicy), kimpap from the 24-hour diner down the street, Kimpap Changuk, made by our favorite lady who always knows to make our chamchi (tuna) kimpap with "hame bbego" (no spam), while she throws in some extra egg strips, stuffing the delicious rolls so full of rice and veggies that sometimes they split open. (Dear lord, there's a lot to remember, and it's already 1:30 am). Our jobs teaching "Eengrishee" to children, seeing them over the past year grow taller as they learned to speak better English, introducing them to Mr. Bean and loving their laughter and joy that resulted, hearing them awkwardly stumble through their oral presentations and remembering my own in French class and the misery it caused, the "snack parties" we'd have at the end of terms, and how they'd so willingly share their snacks with the teacher and with other unfortunate kids who forgot to bring anything for themselves, the discussions that sometimes happened spontaneously, allowing me to throw my lesson plan for the class out the window and talk instead about ghosts or Morocco or their personal favorite, how they have injured themselves... and the bad students, the ones who have no fear of authority or are completely unresponsive to discipline, constantly disruptive in class, swearing in Korean and not thinking we understand, etc... Certain students, bith good and bad, come to mind... Geun Woo the 12 year old autistic kid (the one the school forgot to tell me was autistic), brilliant in math but falling to the floor in a screaming/kicking/crying fit whenever someone touched his notebook cover, Hye Su and her ability to be completely distracted by anything, only wanting to sit and draw dragons, Sang Jun, the devil incarnate, another sweet girl (I don't know her real name), who was first Rudy, then Neutron and now Ham, who ate Bugles off her fingertips during our snack party yesterday, the manager's son, Tae Young who "hates Buddha because he's the enemy of Jesus", Mickey, with her fuzzy hair, who makes me origami boxes, Su Hwan, who threatened to disembowel Matt after he threw out the kid's stupid sausage snacks, Teft with his constantly too-small pants, always in a world of his own but one of the funniest kids I've met, and his little brother Spiderman, whose eyes are always shining with mischevious thoughts, the M6 202 class, who has dubbed Matt "SuperTeacher"... etc.... our co-worker and friend Lorena from San Francisco, whom Joe adores and whom we always manage to chase out of our house showering her with desserts she doesn't want (you shoulda taken that Krispy Kreme when you had the chance, "Alena"!!)...there's so much...the thoughts and the memories don't stop...I'm just going to continue in streamofconsciousness-style... riding the subway, standing up, falling asleep, falling asleep standing up on the subway (nothing could be more Korean), Itaewon, el Masry's Egyptian restaurant, bartering with shopkeepers for discounts, the 9502 bus, the constant spitting and horking on the street that I am so accustomed to I don't even hear anymore, the pollution, the Yellow Dust that chokes you and makes your eyes sting and your lungs ache, the constant unceasing buzz of chatter that I simply love not being able to understand, that now when I randomly happen to hear a conversation in English between strangers, I can't help but listen (it's very distracting), the gum-popping ajummas that drive me up the wall, the spicy instant noodles with a slice of processed cheese, spending half our paycheck at Starbucks (damn them and their good coffee!!!), Joe's playrooms at Lotte Mart, Emart, and New Core...how people walk, meandering this way and that, and so easily distracted ("Look!! That dog has a puffy tail! Come here, Puff!!"), following whatever fancy catches their attention (the other day, we saw a pedestrian on a cellphone walk backwards into the path of an oncoming bus - he was OK), the incredible warmth and passion that people are not generally afraid to express, their incredible depth and sincerity, how much they love Joe (all children in general, actually)...Emo and her family, Noona, Hyung-ah, and Ajeoshi, how lucky we have been to find her, this past year she has cared so well for Joe while we are at work, and even though we can't speak the same language, we can communicate remarkably well, learning how to make kimchi and mandu from her, eating dinner with her and her family, making spaghetti sauce for them... from her Joe has learned to speak a second language, and has also become a part of her family, as photos of him adorn their walls and the older brother has been allowed to miss his evening academy classes this week in order to spend more time with Joe....

Korea's great.

There's far too much to write about in a single blog entry. It could easily become a book. I guess the important thing to say is how much we've loved our experience living in Korea, and how much we're already looking forward to returning here in the fall. That said, we're also very excited to be coming home to Saskatoon, to see our family and friends, (but mainly Ida, the most delightful dog ever).

We'll see you all very soon.

Countdown to Canada

It has begun... the final countdown. As of today, Friday February 9th, we have precisely three weeks left in Korea (we get home on March 3), divided into the following: two and a half weeks of procrastination, followed by a frantic three days of packing, cleaning, and madly trying to fit 15 months of accumulated junk into Air Canada's baggage allowance. (I feel sufficiently more Korean in that I'm seriously preparing to bribe the employees at the check-in counter to bump us up to first class - though it's certainly not considered a bribe here, but simply a "gift" of Korean goodwill).

Ahh, sweet, sweet procrastination... "I'm sorry, Nathan/Dad/Mom/insert name here. We had the perfect idea for your gift, but you know how fast a year and a half passes... We hope you really enjoy these "Welcome to Calgary" postcards and novelty rodeo fridge magnets."

With three weeks left, we have started to reflect on all the things we have done and have yet to do. Joe's Emo and I have started to get along quite well, and have reached some sort of base level of communication centred in her kitchen, where she shows me the intricacies of kimchi, kimchi mandu (Korean dumplings), and Joe's new favorite snack (I don't know the name, but all you need are sunflower and pumpkin seeds, walnuts, soy sauce, sesame oil, and garlic, roasting innocently in a pan until the unexpected addition of the main ingredient, a large fistful of tiny dried fish, bones and eyes and all). In return, I unveil to her the mysteries of spaghetti and tomato sauce. If only it had been the women of Babel working together in a kitchen instead of the men working on some tower, the world would be a far more understanding and delicious place to be. How does one express the wonderment on her and her childrens faces as I unlocked the magic of garlic cheese bread, or the hidden depths of basil and thyme? (Though I think these will remain two strange spices that exist in her cupboard, much like the strangely untouched jar of curry powder your hippie parents bought to make that one special dish for some vegan potluck back in '73).

So we're packing up, finishing the few final things left to see and do here, and then it'll be home for a week before Matt and I leap across the Atlantic for two weeks to see a bit of Poland and Italy. (Matt is in it for the art, and I'm all about the food and drink, unabashedly in love with any country that will serve you up an espresso if you order a "regular coffee"!)

See you soon!!

Hanging by a thread - and I don't mean Spiderman

When we first arrived in Korea, so long long ago, (it's now 13 months!), our senses were at first completely assaulted by the noisy, neon advertisements covering every conceivable inch of space on any building housing any type of business whatsoever, be it one of the ubiquitous "norebang" (karaoke rooms), "ho-pes" (hofs, or bars), hakwons or the delicious and cheap 24-hour chain diners, Kimpap Changuk, or Kimpap Nara (known simply to foreigners as the "orange kimpap place", a place to head for at 4 am, for kimpap, bibimbab, cheese deokbokki - short, thick and satisfying rice noodles smothered in spice and processed cheese slices, for the uninitiated - after filling your belly with cheap and terrible draft beer or soju).... wow, that was one long-ass sentence!

Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, the signs. The signs are everywhere, flashing neon noise in all directions - for you Saskatonians, it's like the Ex on speed, except every day, and every hour.

With all these signs, there is obviously a certain amount of maintenance needed to ensure they don't work themselves loose and hurtle down to impale some poor soul seven stories below. At least you would think it should be an obvious fact. Yet, a former teacher told me how, shortly before we arrived, he was on the top floor of our school smoking a cigarette outside the window, when one of the dozens of signs plastering our building was blown free by a rogue gust of wind and did indeed plummet seven stories to the sidewalk below (a sidewalk usually teeming with children). Mercifully, no one was injured, or killed, by the rather ironic fact that a doctor's sign had just shattered upon the ground.

That said, there are certain safety guidelines and regulations that we back in North America are expected to follow without question. Seat belts, car seats, even the simple assumption when driving that red=stop, green=go, and that there is some natural unspoken law that governs the flow of traffic to ensure that cars remain in the right-hand lane, are a few that come immediately to mind. Here, it is much less precise, and Koreans are much more...well, liberated in terms of these iron-clad views of safety we in dear ol' North America cherish so deeply.

Safety practices, as we know them in North America, are almost non-existent here. For instance, young children clamber happily and free inside a speeding vehicle as it weaves frantically through 5 lanes of traffic. Incredibly, sometimes tiny kids, sometimes more than one child, are ferried around on "autobikes" (Konglish for "motorcycle") without helmets, and certainly without any type of restraint. When our air conditioner was clogged last summer, the repairman actually stuck his mouth on the hose and suctioned foul black sludge out of the implement - what would our unions say about that??

But my favorite to observe are the men who work to either clean windows or repair or maintain the massive amount of signs. Working on buildings sometimes over 30 stories, they simply attach a single rope from the roof and lower themselves down on a plank of wood used as a seat. It's absolutely terrifying to watch, but morbidly perhaps, whenever I see it, I can't seem to tear my eyes off them.

Korea, in so many ways, is best summed up as constantly being "an accident waiting to happen." It's precariously and delightfully random.

Joe and Grandma

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I "teach" monsters. They are mostly all seven years old, wild, disrespectful, unable to speak any English, and I dislike most of them. One howls like a wolf whenever I try to say "be quiet". Another regularly takes naps under his desk on the floor, and is unresponsive to any sort of remonstration, other than the 13 year olds I sometimes employ to "give 'em shit" in Korean. And yet another little bastard spits on me and tries to bite me whenever I drag him out of class for being an irritating little shit.

So it was with great joy that I managed, on Tuesday, October 24, to convince my boss to give me half a day off in order to pick up my mom from the airport. My mom had amazed me... before this, she had never ventured outside the borders of North America. But after hearing about Dad's adventures here this summer, and of course the stories and photos of an ever-growing Joe, she was convinced to make the trip here herself.

Unfortunately, we were unable to take any time off work during the 2 1/2 weeks Mom visited. But we made several trips into the city (to Namdaemun Market, Insadong, Gyongbokgung Palace, Itaewon... all the big tourist stops). But we all knew the real reason behind her visit... it was not to see Korea, nor really to see Matt or me... no, it was all about Joe.

Look Out! Here comes the Spider Joe

Can he swing from a thread?......
Well not just yet, but given the chance I'm sure he'd try.
Our son is a Spiderman-a-holic. He runs back and forth in our little apartment, shouting "boy's running like spiderman", he has spiderman poses and even a spiderman face. Joe is addicted to spiderman.

When we had trouble with him using the potty at his babysitters it was "his" spiderman we bribed him with.

Then on one glorious day in late October, his Grandma came to visit, whom he hadn't seen in nearly a year. If there was one thing that could break the ice it was spiderman. Is there anything like preening over yourself in the mirror admiring your new Spiderman pajamas?

(Hanna's aside: Back when Matt and I were "just friends", he would often talk about how he wanted a child, just in order to train him to be a superhero, specifically one that was imbued with the amazing superhero assets one could only obtain through the bite of a radioactive insect (or arachnid, for you nerdy biology types). Personally, I am more inclined to admire and empathize with the Green Goblins or Dr. Octopuses of the world - even though they suffer the inevitable downfall inherent in all supervillains, they, well, always seem admirably motivated to accomplish their lofty goals, like taking over the world. Spiderman, and other superheroes, seem, in comparison, predictably reactionary. As a child, I would always watch Inspector Gadget, not because I liked the cartoon, but because I harboured the faint hope that "today, maybe today, Dr. Claw will finally get that damn Gadget!!").

(sigh.....Matt's aside to Hanna's aside (could this get more ridiculous). Why is it that older siblings tend to have a penchant for siding with evil? some sort of quick excuse for the crimes they commit against their younger brethren....I'm not sure. I do know that I grew up with a brother who always had to be the bad guy. He was Darth Vader to my Luke Skywalker, Shredder to my Ninja Turtles, Megatron to my Optimus (seriously I can go on and on) Mummra to my Thundercats, (does anyone remember the Visionaries?) He was the bad Visionaries to my good Visionaries. I kid you not, he was, when we were children, the Germans to my Allied forces (Yes that's right Dave, I remember "The Battle of Britain: Their Finest Hour", the computer game.)

So Matt wonders why we older siblings feel this inclination to the evil side of human nature... with our "younger brethren" so uppity with their "morals" and "righteousness", all we could really do was counter it, our yang to their yin, etc.... Or just punch them twice when our parents weren't looking. Or frame them for crimes they hadn't committed. Or steal their cookies. Or lock them out on the roof of the house when you were supposed to be taking care of them for the afternoon (I slap my knee with mirth at the very memory).... ahh, delicious deception, enforced through brute strength.

And who can blame us younger siblings for desperately hanging onto to some out dated twisted perception of justice? There just had to be something coming for our older siblings, didn't there? Shouldn't they be struck down by God's fury, or at the very least suffer something utterly humiliating in front of their friends, perhaps along the lines of what they did to us infront of our friends? Doesn't it seem right? DAMN IT GOD, WOULDN'T IT BE JUST??!!!!!!! Why did they always win?......What the hell happened to Karma???????

Somehow, somewhere along the way I think we forgot we were talking about Joe. He's doing great and learning "that with great power comes great responsibility"....(At least as long as he remains the only child).

Dog Food

I am amazed at the, shall we say, creativity, with which human beings the world over approach the universal need for food.

Imagine that you're feeling a little hungry, and in need of a quick snack before work. What do you do? Well, head down to the Lotte Mart of course, where they keep live squid swimming around in a large aquarium. State your preference, and your friendly squid attendant will deftly scoop out the chosen one into a net and onto the cutting board. Before you can say "don't forget the spicy paste," the employee has brought out the gleaming cleaver and hacked the recently-deceased (is 'deceasing' a word?) squid into dozens of unhappily writhing, bite-sized pieces, and deposited it onto a paper plate with disposable chopsticks and packages of spicy paste for your dining pleasure. I'm told you have to chew fast, or the tentacles will stick to your teeth.

I have never considered myself intolerant towards other cultures and their penchant for certain foods that simply strike me and my North American sensibilities as revolting. I simply choose not to eat certain foods, but I don't think it's at all my place to say what is or is not right when it comes to taste.(After all, we Canadians can't seem to cook vegetables to save our lives, and any condiment other than ketchup or mustard is considered a little too exotic for our mild and unabrasive temperament. And don't even get me started on our nonsensical aversion to tofu, or curry, or spices other than dried basil and oregano (GOD FORBID we even think of using fresh-ground spices or, think of it, FRESH HERBS once and a while!!!), or the fact that we need a heart-clogging pound of flesh thrice daily in order to feel nourished). Ok, ok, so maybe I feel a little more justified in passing judgement on my own culture than one which is so very foreign and that I will never truly understand.

That said, there is one aspect of Korean cuisine which does bother me. It's not the squid, nor the popular street snack ppeondaggi (stewed silkworm pupae that smells 100 times more potent than freshly roasted grasshoppers stuck to a car's radiator on a steamy Saskatchewan summer day), but something that hits a little closer to home.

We all have a soft spot in our hearts for abandoned and abused critters, and while we don't all support the SPCA with donations, the majority of people I know at least think the organization is a good idea. Koreans, while they adore their little rat-sized fashion accessory dogs to the point of lunacy (these once-upon a time canines commonly sport doggie jewellry and dyed fur - yes, Joe talks about the "purple puppies" he sees), have a spot not in their hearts but in their stomachs for another, less fortunate breed of dog (that just happens to taste good in a soup called "boshintang")!

Now, remember what I said earlier about not passing judgement? Hindus think hamburgers are atrocious, and us Jews avoid (among other things) the "insects of the sea", those crawling, scavenging creatures that feed on carcasses and other garbage adorning the ocean floor. Well, who am I to think that eating dog meat is wrong? Is it any different? Not really - it's just a matter of taste, so to speak. The thing that, well, really gets my goat is the manner in which the dog is killed. The dog is tied down and beaten to death, in the belief that it tenderizes the meat, making it tastier and a more effective libido-booster for men....(shudder)....

So, how do you take the leftovers home? Why, in a doggie bag, of course!

Finally, a few photos!

Gyeongju - Bulguksa!.

The Korean Summer

My computer is disallowing me to upload photos at the moment, so check back soon because there will be some here shortly.

I am startled with how little we have been writing recently, and so my apologies to those kimchilovincanuck lovers who check our posts regularly - here we go, so stop with the irate emails! Actually, the irate emails aren't bad... it's so nice to know someone cares!!!

Joe has been having a tremendous summer, namely because his Grandpa came to spend a month with him (and, to a lesser degree, his parents). Dad arrived on July 9th, and left on the 5th of August. It was a little cramped, as we put our space juggling skills to the test again in order to accommodate three adults and a rambunctious toddler in our studio apartment for a month. Funny how it changes your perceptions, though. After Dad left, we couldn't believe how much space we had! (Just an aside - it's funny realizing how much less important you become after you have a child, both to yourself and other people. Before leaving for Korea, my parents both informed me that they were perfectly willing to care for Joe while we spent the year in Korea. They also showed no hesitation in telling me that they weren't going to miss me at all - "of course, if you didn't have Joe, things would be completely different, and we wouldn't really care if you went or not" - and the only one who was on their minds was, of course, our little man. It's as it should be, really).

July with Dad was a lot of fun. He quickly became friends with Kim, Kim, Kim and Oh, the regulars down at the Wa Bar, as well as the servers. In fact, not two weeks after his arrival in Korea, they had a framed photo of Joe on his Grandpa's shoulders hanging over the bar. I really enjoyed showing Dad around this crazy and fascinating country that we currently call home. I think what he found the most impressive of all though, and truly it is amazing to contemplate, was the well-organized and incredibly efficient public transportation system. After his first trip on the subway, Dad did some quick research on Wikipedia and found that the subway has 8 million visits ... a day. A few clicks of the mouse later, he informed us that Seoul and the surrounding cities (essentially just a never-ending conglomeration of urban banality connected by well-organized public transit) comprises 23 MILLION people!! It's mind-boggling.

The seasons in Korea are well-defined. Winter is, well, cold, as my beginner students eloquently tell me. Spring is beautiful, warm and filthy when the dust blows in from China. Fall is apparently the best time of year in Korea - it's warm and all the leaves turn amazing shades of red and gold that colour the mountainous landscape. And summer is divided into two stages - rainy and humid, and DAMN FREAKIN' HOT and humid! Korea gets pounded in July with monsoon rains and typhoons from the Pacific, and everyone's favorite fashion accessory becomes the umbrella. And it's not the refreshingly cool rains that we get back home. It rains, the 12-inch trenches they call gutters fill to capacity, becoming small yet raging rivers capable of carrying away those irritatingly tiny, yappy dogs, and the humidity doesn't even think of dissipating. For three or four consecutive days last month, there was a constant downpour. The day after the heavy rains let up, I remarked to my students how nice I thought it was, because for the first time in months, the sky was noticeably more clear than usual. They looked at me very strangely before telling me that this was the heaviest rain they could remember, and that in South Korea alone, 25 people had died, 50 were missing, and thousands more were homeless (and apparently, the situation is much, much worse in North Korea). I felt like an ass and realized what an incredible bubble of ignorance I live in, considering I don't speak the language, and the news I read is almost always of Canadian origin. Imagine something of that magnitude happening in Canada, a couple hours drive away from where you live, and not even knowing about it!

In any case, the monsoon season has passed, and the dead heat and humidity of August is now sitting on Seoul, sapping me of my strength and will to live. The only thing that keeps me going is the constant blast of the air-conditioner in our apartment, and the thought of falafel and baba ghanoush from Pharaoh's, a little Egyptian restaurant in Itaewon that we first visited last month. The owner/chef is a fantastic man who makes fresh pita bread, loves Joe and always encourages our guy to race around the restaurant to his heart's content. And I'm just thrilled to eat something that is not rice.

We had a week of vacation at the very beginning of August, because the owner of our academy decided to renovate. We took the opportunity to attempt another visit to Gyeongju, this time with Dad. Admittedly, I was a little nervous to board another 4-hour bus trip with Joe, not frightened by the prospect of potential misbehaviour, but more by the thought of having to sit in dampness for hours on a bus reeking of vomit after having been successfully rained out of our vacation, which is exactly what happened in May. Well, Joe was fantastic on the bus, but the first week of August also happens to be the one week where everyone in Korea goes on vacation. We chose the precise moment to travel chosen by every single Seoulite, and found ourselves in gridlock on the highways for the first 4 hours of the (ordinarily) 4 hour trip. 4 hours into the trip, we began to leave the outskirts of Seoul. I have never been so happy to reach a highway speed of 50km/hour.

Gyeongju was magical - it's a region where a thousand years of history seep out of all the nooks and crannies, where houses are still built low to the ground, with curled tiled roofs and tiny courtyards, and where massive burial mounds of famous historical figures dot the landscape of the city. We visited Bulguksa, an incredible palace complex from the Shilla Dynasty, before ascending a narrow, winding mountain road at breakneck speed on a teetering bus to see Seokguram, a great stone figure of Buddha carved into the side of the mountain in approximately 750 A.D. Seokguram is a UNESCO World Heritage site (as is Bulguksa), and is thought to be the most important piece of Buddhist artwork in East Asia. Unfortunately, it's encased in glass and photographs are not permitted, so we stocked up on postcards at the gift shop.

The temperature in Gyeongju was an incredible 35 degrees Celcius, not accounting for the dreadful humidity, so a particular highlight for me was the air-conditioned hotel room and the cold beer from the corner store down the street.

Stomach Linings are for Sissies

It seems that everyone and their grandmother here is suffering from stomach cancer. Korea has the highest rates of stomach cancer in the world (if statistics, particularly the ones we've read, are to be considered true), and it's no real surprise when the men drink gallons of soju. (Soju is an alcoholic beverage much like vodka but uses rice instead of potatoes - at least in its original form. But the common, cheap stuff you buy in tetra packs, bottles or multi-litre sized jugs from the convenience stores (what everybody drinks) is in fact made from watered-down ethyl alcohol - silly North Americans... we were always told that stuff'll make you blind...wait, maybe it does, as that would explain their driving habits). Aside from the soju, which the women don't drink nearly as much of as the men (they use it as a cleaning product), you have the gochuchang, or the ubiquitous red pepper paste (or, as Matt calls it, the very fuel that all of Korea runs on). It is piled into pretty much everything they eat - it's a key ingredient in kimchi (the national food), soups, stews, barbecue dishes and is a product other than soju which can be purchased in pails of 20 litres or more.

Our personal favorite dish that uses gochuchang can only be purchased from the restaurant in the main floor of our apartment block. We don't actually know the name of the place, because... well, we've never really bothered to learn it (the sign is in "fancy-lookin'" Hangeul (Korean), so it is simply known to us as the "Spicy Tofu place"(where's the echo button? asks Matt).

The story of the spicy tofu began on New Year's Eve. We prepared an elaborate dinner, including pickled, spicy sesame leaves, ramyen (mmm...instant noodles), kimpap (Korean "sushi" - don't EVER call it that, though!), kimchi (of course), rice, and the legendary "Tofu.....fu....fu...fu".

When we ordered the food, the cook and the waitress both tried to discourage us, saying it was much to spicy for foreigners, but we managed to convince them we could handle it. We had no idea what we were getting into....

Matt accused me of trying to kill him with the spiciest food he'd ever eaten, and I think we both had several heart attacks after the first three bites (the crazy thing about spicy tofu, though, is that you can't stop eating it once you've started). So, with eyeballs sweating, and barely able to breathe, we made it through the first encounter. Matt prayed it would be our last.

But once that tasty MSG/BBQ spicyness bites, you can never go back!!! The craving for Spicy Tofu can get so intense, that some nights, when they would run out of tofu, I would run down to the tiny, family-run restaurant with a brilliant smile and a block of tofu from home in hand, and the owner/cook would spy the tofu, clap her hands and laugh. But she'd cook our tofu for us, in her inimitable spicy way, AND give us a discount! (The language of "Spicy Tofu" relies not on words).

Now, we have become trusted customers. If they have no tofu when we order our beloved dish, the cook will unhesitatingly send out her daughter (also the waitress) into the monsoon rains to buy a block of tofu from a shop down the street.

It's been nearly seven months since that near-death experience on New Year's Eve, and Spicy Tofu has quickly nestled its way into our hearts and through our stomach linings.

We love you Spicy Tofu!!

Culture Shock

Websters dictionary describes Culture shock as a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation. A colleague of my brother put it, I believe much more eloquently, "If you're in a foriegn country and you think everyone else is crazy than you have culture shock".
I generally agree with this.

Matt

We've been getting lazier and lazier with this blog recently. I am finding it easy to be distracted by Joe and his continual adventures - today he discovered how delicious sand is, a consolation to the unhappy fact that his friends at Lotte Mart (an aquarium full of squids) had all been eaten (raw, still writhing, but with spicy paste) and were no longer there to greet him when he walked through the door. Well, Superstore has the All-Beef hotdog stand (a real stomach-turner if you happen to be Hindu), and Lotte Mart has the raw squid stand, so there's not that much of a difference. One of my students responded eloquently when I told him that many people in Canada would never eat the squid: "Why? It's delicious! Have confidence!!" How true, but not enough for me to taste it.

We've also been distracted by preparing our place for my dad's visit, an event Joe has been looking forward to for the past month or more.

Joe has been counting down the days until his Grandpa arrives (he gets here on Sunday evening). We have been madly organizing, dusting, cleaning, arranging, and all the while I become increasingly amazed at the vast amount of SH*T we've accumulated in the almost 8 months since we've been here.

As homework assignments, I've been giving my intermediate students instructions to make a list of places we should take Dad, and why. We've come up with a few good ideas - Suwon's Fortress Wall, a folk village near our city (known by foreigners as "the Fork Village" due to a humourous misprint on its sign), the many temples, palaces and parks scattered liberally throughout Seoul, a few mountain hikes, Namdaemun and possibly Dongdaemun Market.