Two weeks in, and I already need a leg up....

After two weeks in Naju, I am settling into a routine. The thrill of taking the bus to and from work is subsiding, as is the initial rush I feel when I enter a store and use my limited Korean while making a purchase. Although the novelty is wearing off, I've realized that the more time I spend in South Korea, the more dynamic the country becomes. Not only am I learning about the socio-cultural nuances of South Korean society, I am gaining valuable intra-personal knowledge about myself. The biggest lesson thus far: I really need to gain better control over my legs. Life will be much easier once I do. 

Example #1: 

My family, along with many families in South Korea, eat all their meals on a mini table while sitting on the floor. Most activities, such as sleeping, eating, and drinking are done on the floor. The preferred method of sitting is "indian style."  This is problematic for many reasons.  The biggest problem is that I simply cannot sit "indian style" to save my life. I couldn't do it in kindergarten when I first learned, and I sure can't do it now. Yet day after day of pulling, twisting, and forcing my legs into place, I was able to achieve relative comfort while eating meals. Although it strains my hips and knees, I was determined to learn how to do it if it was the last thing I did. 

A few days ago, I was  folding my laundry when I noticed that every single pair of my socks was stained. "Thats strange," I thought. After searing my leg with steaming hot soup at dinner one day, I quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together:

 Somewhere in the process of taking that 순두부찌개 (tofu soup) or 잡채 (noodles) from my bowl to my mouth, something went terribly wrong.  While I was awkwardly and uncomfortably leaning over my bowl, chopsticks in hand, all the food I intended to eat didn't quite make it to my mouth. Instead, it slipped out of my chopsticks  and fell into my lap.  The result: my white tube socks are speckled with an array of colors, from kimchi red to kalbi brown.  I  feel like that little airplane spoon my host mom uses for my 3 year old sister has crashed and burned into my lap, leaving the blood and guts of its edible passengers stained into the fabric of my socks.   And the evidence of my poor table manners are on display every time I wear shorts. My favorite activity of all, eating, is now a daily challenge, and my toddler sister shows me up every time. Lesson learned: Not only can't I sit appropriately and comfortably at meal times, I also fail at the very act of feeding myself.

Example #2:

 One of the best things about routines is consistency. The best part of this new consistency in my life is my predictable, reliable bowel movements.  "Why is he telling me this?! I don't care about his bodily functions?!" you may ask. There is a reason, and the reason is simple. Like eating, doing your business in South Korea is no easy feat, especially when you are faced with one of these:

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the squat toilet, which has struck fear into the hearts (and bowels) of Western travelers for over a century. Some call it a "squatty potty," others the "pop and squat." But at the end of the day, every foreigner in South Korea will be faced with this most terrifying of personal waste disposal systems at some point.  

Now this is where my bowel schedule comes into play: Since my home stay has western toilets, the only time I am charged with using the "squat toilet" is at school. Yet there is one western toilet on the other side of campus. Since I know that I will be moving bowels around 11am everyday, I can rush to my western ally, "the john" between 2nd and 3rd period. So I take the appropriate measures to ensure that I can rendezvous. If not, I will be caught in unfriendly territory with Mr. squat toilet, and the outcome could be fatal. 

I cannot confidently say I have mastered the squatty potty either. Again, I will not illustrate how I came to that conclusion, but lets just say it was, well, dirty. One thing I did learn is that your legs are very important in the process. It's called a squat toilet for good reason. And as I've already established, I am not very good at manipulating my legs. Lesson learned: I also fail at going to the bathroom, literally. 

Example #3:

 

In an effort to create rapport with my host dad, I go with him to his bi weekly Jokgu games, which is the Korean version of Sepaktakraw. Simply put, it is a combination of soccer and volleyball.  The sport utilizes the strategy of volleyball, complete with the serve, bump and spike, and the footwork (read: foot) of soccer. One's ability to play hackey sack or soccer would be a good indicator to their success on the Jokgu court. Did I mention the fact that I am horrible at hackey sack, and even worse at soccer? Why are you so bad, you may ask? Well, the answer is easy:

It involves the use of your legs. 

Created by the South Korean army in the 1970's, Jokgu is a popular sport among men in their late 20's and 30's. "A man's sport," as my dad calls it, Jokgu seems to be a rite of passage for Korean men upon leaving their military conscription. And like many men his age, my host dad is obsessed. Him and his 30 something friends leave their wives and young children  twice a week to play the most masculine of sports and bicycle kick their way to bliss.   And me, well, I just make a fool of myself. While they all have special Jokgu shoes, (which are modified soccer cleats) I am rocking my sales rack Nike cross trainers.   While they are all wearing coordinated jerseys and soccer shorts as part of their Jokgu club uniform, I am wearing my trusty Pitzer College t-shirt and basketball shorts.  While they are juggling the ball effortlessly, I am bumbling around like a physical therapy patient.  Needless to say, I'm quite the spectacle. 

Yet my host dad is insistent that I go with him every Wednesday and Friday.  Although I automatically add a handicap to my team, (and have ensured the loss of my team every time I have played), my host dad and his friends cheer me on and support me while I flail my uncoordinated legs around in frustration.

Lesson learned: I fail at foot sports. And I vastly over judged my athletic ability.  

 

 I would like to wrap up this post with a summary of a typical wednesday and friday night:

From 7:30 to 9:30pm, I play Jokgu with my host dad. As per tradition, we go to the same restaurant every wednesday and friday for our weekly post exercise feast.  Once we finish our Jokgu game,  I pick up my pride off the gym floor and drag  myself next door to our trusted Korean restaurant. I then force my already sore legs into the "indian style" position while trying to concentrate on using my chopsticks. I then inevitably spill something on myself.  Last week it was 김치찌개 (kimchi soup), and I think this week it was 비빔밥 (bibimbap).  Around 9:50pm, nature calls. I then head to our trusty Korean restaurant's squatty potty, where I may or may not succeed. (Interpret that as you will)

After the first two weeks at their placement, many of my friends are negotiating questions of classroom pedagogy, or struggling with their roles as cultural ambassadors and the implications that entails. What have I learned  during my first 2 weeks? I need to get my legs up to speed pronto, or its going to be a long year.

Until next time.......