Between pee and kimchee

Trained by China

2011-04-08T22:01:00.001+09:00

In between leaving Shanghai and before moving into our new place in Seoul, we traveled for a few weeks in the U.S. I've lived abroad for almost eight years now, and though I go back once a year or so, each time the U.S. seems more and more unfamiliar. Sometimes things have clearly changed over there, like trends (I remember spending much of one trip staring at people's very large earrings -- the kind that fit into and stretch the piercings to the size of dimes), catch-phrases, or cars. But mostly things are the same there, and I'm the one who has changed. Or at least my expectations have. In China and Korea, buildings, trends, slang, manners, laws, signage, food, scandals, and the landscape change so much from month to month that it's weird to go to a place that looks almost exactly the same for eight years.

Anyway, on this last trip, it became clear to me that I have been trained by China.

We regularly stopped at Peet's coffee. Each time there was a line. But what a line! You could park an elephant between the cash registers and the start of the line. As if people are afraid to stand too close because the cashiers have bad breath or really large personal spaces. And each person in line seems to leave a good arm's length between himself and the people in front and behind.

The whole thing made me very, very anxious. I kept moving closer to the person in front of me, but then he would uncomfortably move forwards or sideways, so I'd move back, aware that I'd made a social faux-pas. But then I'd start to feel nervous and move up again. And every once in a while someone would come and stand in the space in front of the registers in order to get a closer look at the menu or the pastries, and my whole body would tense, ready to pounce on them if they showed any sign of trying to cut in. I fastened my stink eye onto their backs, thinking, don't even try it, motherfucker.

When you stand in line in China, you can't let your guard down for a minute. Someone is always trying to squeeze in. You can't let any daylight show between you and the person in front of you. In the grocery store, you start unloading your cart almost on top of the person in front of you. When a taxi stops, you hop in the front seat before the current passenger finishes getting out. At the doctor, there isn't really any line exactly, just a whole bunch of people crammed into a small room, all handing their x-rays or charts or whatever to the doctor at the same time. Whichever one is in her face is the one who goes next.

Even places where numbers are taken are not straightforward. At one point during our stay we had to get an important real estate document from a certain government agency. There were something like five steps, and both parties and both agents all had to be there to perform the first one. When the building opened at 8 am there were already 100 people waiting outside. They rushed in and grabbed numbers. But they grabbed more than one number each. So if the first number was called and some member of the party wasn't there (maybe they went to the bathroom, or the bank, or fainted from standing and waiting for so many hours) they would use the next number.

So when we started out we had several numbers which weren't very good. But our agent, who was standing under a No Smoking sign with a group of agents trading cigarettes and smoking like crazy, would come back every 10 minutes or so with a different number. They'd trade among themselves, giving others the numbers they had pulled but didn't need.

Then, after the first few steps were done, we had to go to a different area of the building to pay a tax, and there was no take-a-number system there, just one straight line. But my agent had paid(?) someone to stand in that line all day; he just kept waiting in line, and when he got to the front, he'd go around and stand in the back again. So that by the time we were ready for that step we already had a place close to the front.

And in the end it was almost 4:30, closing time, and we still hadn't finished everything. (Like all government officials anywhere, they shut down from 11-1 for lunch.) I really didn't want to come back the next day and do it all over again. So it ended the way things do in China. My agent found someone he knew in the office, and five minutes later we were done.

Back to the U.S. The other moment during the trip when I realized I had become Chinese was when it was time to cross a road. My friend E sauntered across four lanes with barely a look back and forth. I stood petrified on the sidewalk, saying, "Watch out! There's a car way over there!" She said, "What are you doing? Come on! They're legally obligated to stop!" Oh yeah. People actually do that here.

quiet

2011-03-24T15:56:00.002+09:00

I might as well be talking about the last few years of this blog, eh? Kind of fell off the blogging world when I moved to China. It took a while to get settled, you see. And I had to deal with learning the language and figuring out where to get my bicycle tires fixed (free advice: don't buy a bicycle at Carrefour, get it at Decathlon). I was going to school every day and rotating our milk sources. And then when I might have started blogging, we were blocked from blogger and that was a good excuse not to start up again.

So now we're back in Korea and I find that I've been thinking about blogging again a lot lately but having been away so long it seems scary, somehow, to put myself out there again. And the bar is a lot higher now; there are a lot of bloggers out there when once there were few. I need to face up to the fact that if I'm going to write anything it isn't going to be stupendous because I don't have time to edit.

So... baby steps. Small posts. For today: silence.

So we're in the new place, and it's good. Really good. Dishwasher (haven't had one of those for almost 8 years, unless you count ayi, who washed dishes among other duties...), heated toilet seats, nice community sauna/bath and swimming pool, etc.

The first night we slept here (on a 손없는날: that is, a day in which the ghosts go up to the heavens to play, so it is safe to move), I was exhausted from the moving and traveling, ready to collapse in our old bedding in the new place. But that's when it really hit me that we weren't in Shanghai anymore: it was so quiet. In the background I could hear the hum of something, probably the heating system, but that's it.

There are many types of quiet. Quiet in this place is Hotel Quiet: a mind-your-own-business kind of quiet; impersonal and antiseptic.

We had just spent a few weeks in the U.S., and we visited some friends from Shanghai who had recently moved to a hillside house in Saratoga, California. The quiet on their porch was a sweetly relaxing kind of quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you are being cradled by the kitten-soft tongues of tree leaves. I wanted to just stay on their porch, immobile, and watch the centuries go by. I could understand in that moment why writers seek places to nature to write, and why Koreans bury their bed on mountain tops. It was the kind of quiet that says eternal peace and wisdom.

The quiet of that first night back in Seoul was an empty kind of quiet, leaving enough of a sensory black hole to suck me right back to Shanghai, despite months of effortless denial about leaving that place. I remembered all the night noises in Shanghai; the baoan guards talking into their walkie-talkies, bells clanging for various recycling pickups, ubiquitous honking, the sounds of children playing in the playground. Our first night in our last apartment in Shanghai (we lived in two different places) we were all sleeping in a huge mosquito tent in the living room because our bedroom was full of stacks of books (we had not yet bought any furniture). Around 1am we woke to shouts from the street: "小偷!小偷!" [Xiaotou!Thief!] It took us a few minutes to groggily figure out what they were saying, and then KC and I stumbled towards the verandah and looked out into the night. Baoan were coming from all directions, converging on the poor thief in the middle of the large road behind our complex. Some of the baoan were on scooters, and they were going to run him down. Eventually they caught up with the guy and started punching him and then dragging him towards the side of the road, I guess to take him to the police. We went back inside and went back to sleep. Shortly after that, in preparation for Expo, the city began repaving and fixing all the roads in our area, so seven days a week from 7am to 10pm we would hear jackhammers, steamrollers, and work crews trying to make their deadlines. Accompanied by the wonderful smell of asphalt, of course.

The first night we spent in Shanghai (in our first apartment), we were woken at 7am (it was Sunday morning) which what sounded like gunfire. Of course it was fireworks, not gunfire, and within a short time we had become so used to the sound that I barely noticed it anymore.

But that's what happens with a city, I suppose. You're so busy trying to figure out where to step and who to befriend and where to buy your veggies that two and a half years go by in a big whoosh, and you don't realize that you're carrying the place around with you, in the grime under your fingernails, in the soundtrack to which you fall asleep at night. Every once in a while when I'm walking around Seoul, remembering what it was like to live here before and comparing it to now (more on that another day), I get a whiff of Shanghai and my mind takes me back. I think of the odd scenes: the man carrying a bag of live chickens on the subway, or the taxi driver who, during a long red light, painstakingly weeded his white hairs by leaning awkwardly out in order to see himself in the rearview mirror. I think of the commentary that followed me whenever I walked around with my kids, "Three sons! Three sons!"

I don't think I appreciated what a persistant and colorful character Shanghai had, and how much I had grown to love it, until that quiet night.

Guest Blogger: Max

2010-12-12T17:03:00.001+09:00

Been neglecting the blog again, as I try to get my fill of Shanghai before we leave. So I'll turn things over to the words of our budding writer Max.

Max has been wanting to write since before he actually could. He used to spend long periods of time hunched over his notebook, drawing squiggy lines that met his perfectionistic standards. He'd then tear out the piece of paper, hand it to me, and very seriously inform me that "This is Blah Blah Blah Language. You have to take this and study it. Then I will test you tomorrow. If you get them all right I will give you one piece of candy."

I guess this is what I sound like?

Now that he can actually write he leaves me amusing little notes like this one:

Dear Mommy,

You do not have a house and you do not have a sword for fighting bad guys.

Love, Max

I'm pretty sure I don't sound like that.

Anyway, today I give you, for your reading pleasure, a story he wrote in his handwriting notebook at school. I copied it the way he wrote it, so you have to decipher his spellings.

Starwars

Farfar away in the galaxy ther was a young gediy Calld anykin. anykin was youg but he was schrong wen he dfeds a person he Winks and one time he fannd a chick and the chick had one leg brokin so he fixit one person's chin brok so h fixit when he winks his mauth tacks I think wen my brother gros up he's gowing to go to the Sink and wash Dishis.

By Max Chang

And if you don't like it, in Max's words, "You want to Bisa me?" [You want a piece of me?"]

Real blogging to follow soon.

Third child

2010-10-10T11:41:00.002+09:00

Some animals mark their territory by pissing. We playfully tossed around the idea of marking the countries we've lived in by having a baby in each one. (Or perhaps more accurately, making each birth a souvenir of each place, and folding those countries into our family, at least symbolically.) I wasn't sure we would actually go through with it, but now we have. The U.S.: Aiden. Korea: Max. And now China: Felix. All boys, all born in May, but each in a different country.

Pregnancy and childbirth are transformational experiences on the individual level (both physically and emotionally), but they also provide a kind of up-the-skirt glimpse at the values and prejudices of the society one lives in. When you're walking around with a big belly people feel free -- compelled, in some cases -- to give you advice. To warn you of the dangers of X and Y. To implore you to raise your kid This Way or That Way. Same thing when you're carrying around a newly-minted human being. I suppose that people see pregnant women and babies as a tabula rasa, a blank and forgiving slate, available for imprinting and for correcting previous wrongs. Pregnant women and babies represent a place for redemption, for individuals and societies. If you can just nip that problem in the bud and change someone else's life... the reasoning goes. So it's hard for people to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Maybe because being pregnant draws people's comments so well, I feel like going through pregnancy and childbirth in each country gave me a chance to get to know each country better. In the case of China, it was my first real encounter with the medical system here. (Up to that point we had taken care of all of our medical needs in Korea, and just tried to stay healthy in China, where we have no medical insurance.) I don't think one can really feel comfortable living in a country unless one can comfortably bank, go to the doctor, and send one's kids to school. Now I have some experience with each of these, and it makes me feel more settled here.

Anyway, sleep deprivation is no easier the third time around but I'll try to slap myself into semi-consciousness long enough to write some notes on this last pregnancy and childbirth. Not only am I tired and scatterbrained, but it's also been a long time since I did any writing. Starting blogging again is like starting exercising again: painful and clumsy.

Third. In the U.S., having a third child is pretty ho-hum, but in China and Korea where birth rates are low, being a mom of three is much more unusual. Reactions upon discovering I was pregnant were interesting. In Korea, several people commented, ""육심이 많네요"; a case in a which I had trouble reading tone/nuance. [I'm having a hard time translating this: something like "you have a lot of desire/greed," but that doesn't really capture the meaning in Korean.] Was that meant to be a veiled criticism? Can't decide. In China, I got, "太多了!" (Too many!) Which just made me laugh. Many people speculated that I must be trying for a daughter, and several asked me if this baby was planned, which I felt was an overly personal question, but answered it anyway (yes, it was planned). In the early days, whatever I ate was scrutinized: my grapefruit cravings were a sure sign of a boy, but ice cream was a girl. My complexion was remarked upon many times (if your skin is good, it must be a girl). Later, the shape of my belly was commented on by almost everybody I walked by; I felt like a tourist attraction. The pointy belly meant a son for the Chinese, but for the Koreans it is the opposite. (In this case the Chinese were right.) I also got scolded for walking around so much, and after the baby was born, for being out and about so soon after giving birth, and for not putting socks and a hat on my newborn. Nobody asked me why I wasn't wearing one of those radiation garments, probably because I'm a laowai, but all the pregnant Chinese women were wearing them (an ugly smock that is supposed to block electromagnetic radiation).

Hospital. We decided to have the birth at International Peace Maternity, a Chinese hospital specializing in women and children's health, in the VIP section. There's really no qualification to become a "VIP" except willingness to pay about ten times more than what the regular people pay, and for that you have fewer lines, better facilities, and doctors who have some international experience/training. I chose a Chinese hospital for two reasons: first, as a hospital that deals with so many births every day, it is well-equipped to deal with all sorts of emergencies, and it has an in-house NICU. The international hospitals provide an atmosphere that may be more like an American hospital, but the care is not necessarily as good. The second reason was financial; we don't have health insurance in China and delivering in a Chinese hospital, even in the VIP ward, is two or three times cheaper than in an international hospital.

Peace is a pretty popular place for expats to deliver. I know a lot of women who have had their babies there. And for that reason it's hard to get an appointment, even at normal times, and it may have been more crowded than usual when I was pregnant because people were trying to have an "Expo baby." I called soon after I found out I was expecting and the first available time slot was not until my 19th week. So I ended up doing the first half of my pre-natal visits in Korea.

Going back to Korea (to 차병원, which is also a well-known women and children's hospital) for half of my prenatals was nice and familiar, and my old doctor seemed very blase about this pregnancy, except for the maternal age factor. When the Triple Screen results came in, he said, "나이가 그렇고, 그래도 괜찮을것같아요." (something like: you're old but it'll probably be ok.)

Boy or girl? For the first time, I really wanted to know the sex of this child beforehand. But both Korea and China have policies prohibiting the disclosure of the child's sex, to prevent selective abortion of girl babies. In Korea the policy is changing, and in most local hospitals you can find out, but the larger hospitals are still quite strict. I did my best to find out, pulling out the "I'm a foreigner!" card and the "I already have two boys!" card. I tried the subtler routes: asked what color clothes I should buy and whether the baby takes after me or my husband, but the ultrasound tech wouldn't even give me a hint. She told me to ask my doctor. Finally he told me, "아빠 닮았어요" (the baby takes after its father). In other words, another boy. At Peace, in the ultrasound room, they have a sign saying something along the lines of "don't even ask because we won't tell."

First appointment at Peace. We were running late for our first appointment at Peace, so we rushed through the door without really thinking about what we would find. KC stopped in his tracks and said, "Oh my god, I've never seen so many pregnant women in my life!" It was a large room with tons of people standing in line, sitting in rows of uncomfortable chairs, and milling around. We headed towards the back where the VIP elevators are manned by a security guard, who looked us up and down and extended his hand towards the elevators, letting us through.

We took the elevator up to the 13th floor, where the scene was more peaceful. A large room with sofas, with a circular nurse's station in the middle topped by a chandelier. An espresso machine in the corner. Free bottles of juice and water plus packs of crackers and candies in bowls around the room. Most of the sofas were full but it was nothing like the cattle driving going on downstairs.

Procedure-wise, it was much like Korea: check in, stand in line at the cashier, provide urine sample, get weighed, wait. Later: make appointment, pay for any remaining tests or medicine. Like Korea, there's a production-line structure to hospitals that enables clinics like this to see many many people in a short time.

We met the doctor in a very large room, larger than our largest bedroom, but empty except for the desk, two chairs, and an examining table. After we talked for a bit the doctor asked me to take off my pants and lie down, but there was no sheet, no curtain, no barrier between me and the very large room. It felt odd. I mean, there's a chandelier outside but you can't give me a modesty sheet? The sheet, if you think about it, doesn't really do anything, it's just something extra to wash, the doctor and husband are going to see everything anyway in a moment, and there's nothing really to hide, it's just psychologically comforting, like a security blanket.

This (what Americans would consider) lack of privacy was the main thing I noticed in the medical arena. When waiting in line for the cashier one day, a doctor and patient standing a foot away were immersed in a conversation which I think was about the patient's miscarriage. (Could be a misunderstanding, since it was in Chinese and I missed the beginning, but it was about how there was no heartbeat, how there is usually no way to know the reason, how the patient should try again, and get prenatal care earlier.)

Check me out. The sizing up of patients is the same, or similar, no matter where you go. When I was admitted to give birth to my first baby, in the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor, I remember the nurse watching me for a while and then proclaiming, with a decided air, "You're going to do just fine." In Korea, while I was in early labor (3cm or so) there were two nurses hanging out in my room just waiting for things to get exciting, I guess, and we were all listening to the screams from the woman in the room next to mine. They commented, "She's having a hard time." And then looked at me and said, "You don't seem to be in any pain at all." You're weird, seemed to be the unspoken question. Then they gave me pitocin and I think I made enough noise to satisfy them after that.

It would be fascinating to do an enthnographic study of Labor and Delivery nurses, who have to deal with all manner of laboring woman, probably learning to diffuse each one like a different type of ticking time bomb. They seem to have their own codes and theories about what makes a woman easy or hard, or even what makes us go into labor. I arrived in the hospital in Ann Arbor for my first delivery after a tornado had gone past town, and was informed that the hospital was full. "When the barometer drops, everybody goes into labor," the nurse told me. In labor for the third time, when I approached the nurses station and announced that I was having contractions, the nurses gave each other a look. "A lot of people today?" I asked. "Four already," the nurse said, and gave a little chuckle.

Anyway, perhaps (probably) because it was my third, the nurses and doctors here seemed relaxed about this pregnancy. They kept telling me, "No problem. It's going to go fast." And during labor, they for the most part left us alone, which was wonderful. We had a button to push if we needed anything, and got to labor the way we wanted. And after the birth, we were also left to enjoy our baby without much intervention, especially at night. In Michigan and Seoul people were coming in every hour, day and night, and I couldn't get any rest at all. Because of that, this last birth was the most relaxing.

Show me the money. Since we didn't have insurance, we needed to deposit 30,000RMB before giving birth; this would be about the cost of a C-section should I need one. On the day we checked out of the hospital, an administrator came around with a large bag and a bunch of papers showing how much we had actually spent (less than half that amount, since it was an unmedicated natural birth), and then reached into her bag and started pulling out large wads of cash. "Count it to make sure it's correct," she told us. Ha! Someone should have told us we'd be taking home two important bundles: one with a baby and one with a lot of cash. Take note, Chinese robbers! The administrator remarked that she was returning a lot of cash that day because so many people had had natural deliveries.

Baby Swimming. Another unusual experience in China was the baby swimming. I had seen advertisements for this in the subway stations and thought it looked really strange. Basically, they put little inner tubes around the baby's neck and let the baby swim in a small, tall tub of warm water. On Felix's second day of life the nurses asked us if we were interested in having him try this plus an infant massage for 100 RMB (less than 15 dollars). Sure, why not? The nurse woke him up, which he was not happy about, stripped him and put a piece of tape over his belly button stub, and put the tube around his head, all of which made him cry. But the minute he entered the tub he grew calm. He wiggled his little legs looked around very quietly. We were amazed. I suppose that being immersed in warm water must have felt familiar and comfortable for him, despite the big tube around his neck. I later ordered a tube on the internet and have been letting him "swim" every few days in our bathtub. It takes a lot of water so I don't do it every day, but he continues to love it. Our tub is not quite deep enough, so his feet touch, and he can push himself from one end of the tub to the other, and flip so he's somewhat stomach-down or back-down.

Breast Massage.Another option in the hospital was to have a breast massage. I had just watched a good friend of mine here in Shanghai go through a terrible bout of mastitis, having to be put on IV antibiotics and finally having to have surgery to drain the infection. One of the things she ended up doing to help was having a breast massager come to her house and unclog the blocked ducts manually. Apparently there’s a branch of Chinese medicine that does breast massage. I got to watch once, as the masseuse rubbed and pulled at the breasts, spraying milk all over the place, and getting small back and white things to come out, which I guess were what was blocking the ducts. Pretty gross.

So when given the option to have a massage at the hospital I took it. I imagined it would be done by a person and that it would be painful, like my friend’s had been, especially since my milk had already come in and I was quite engorged, especially on the left since Felix seemed to prefer the right. But in the hospital it was done by a machine. A nurse came in with the big machine, and put two flat, round, black rubber pad-type things on my breasts, which emitted some sort of pulse. It was actually quite nice and not painful at all. Afterwards the nurse helped me express some of the milk from my rock hard left side. She got about an espresso shot amount out of it, still orange from the colostrum. “Drink it,” she said. “Don’t let it go to waste, this is good stuff.” It was far sweeter than I had imagined.

The small plastic cup she expressed the milk in (like an espresso shot size) was what they use to feed the babies in the nursery. I’m not sure why they don’t use bottles. Interesting.

Head or Tail? I was curious, this time around, to see how the midwife would hand the baby to me upon birth. In the U.S., I received Aiden head-first, so my first view of him was his face. In Korea the nurse handed me the baby butt first, so I got a good glimpse of his balls and penis, as if the nurse was allowing me to confirm that yes, this is indeed another boy. I don't know what to make of that, is it a cultural thing or just an accident of that particular hospital or nurse?

Anyway, in China I again received the baby butt first. Hmm.

Naming. Each of our kids has a Western first name and a Korean middle name on their American passports (their Korean passports just have their Korean names). It takes us a long time to come up with the first name, but we have total control over that process. The Korean name is more logistically complicated. The second part of the name is generational, so each kid has the same character. My in-laws have employed a name-maker to come up with options for the first part of the name. The name maker is someone who specializes in coming up with a good name for the child, based on the parents' and the child's birth dates and times. For Aiden, we knew we would only have a few days to prepare a name, so we asked the name maker to come up with some suggestions despite not knowing exactly when he would be born. He gave us 5 options and we chose one of those. When Max was born, we had more time to employ a name maker, since the Korean hospitals give you more time to come up with a name. Still, the process was quick; it only took a day or two if I remember correctly.

This time around we called KC's parents soon after the birth and asked them to get on the name-making process. But they didn't understand, and it didn't occur to us to explain, that we needed the name within the next 3 days in order to put it on the birth certificate. They had decided to employ a high-end name-maker who needed a week. After some back and forth the name-maker agreed to give us a name on the third day but we would have to call him to get it.

I was surprised how nervous we both were, waiting for this name. We called the name-maker from the hospital room (via skype) and he gave us three names. We chose one of those right away, and then ran into problems right away, since the character we chose, 爀 (빛날혁), is kind of an older character, not really used in modern Chinese. Would they be able to put it on the birth certificate?

It turns out that they were able to. So Felix's birth certificate has both his American and Chinese names. Pretty cool.

42-day checkup. At Peace, mothers and babies come for a joint 42-day post-partum checkup. All the moms and babies are taken to the waiting area where the babies are weighed, one by one, and then sent one by one to see the pediatrician and the Ob/gyn. The weighing was quite funny to me: all these moms and grandmas and ayis crowded around their little baobaos, but watching all the other babies, sizing them up. Felix was the first to be weighed, since we arrived first (I finally learned to be the first one there in order to get out in a reasonable amount of time). He was quite small still, having been born 3 weeks early and exclusively breastfed (he is not small now, he is quite a porker). One mom abandoned her baby to grandma to stand by the scale and comment on all the other babies' weights. She asked the nurse, "Is that baby also 42 days? He is so small! He's only half the size of my baby!" Then after her baby was weighed, she crowed happily to him (and the whole room) "你是第一名!" (You're in first place!) He was a really big baby, must have been 5kg. The women were all busy exchanging information about whether they were doing breast or bottle, how much their babies were sleeping, etc. I listened to them, exhausted, remembering what it was like to have my first child, back in the days when I had no idea what I was doing, when I was hyper-conscious of what other parents were doing. Back when I gained a sense that I was doing ok as a parent by constantly comparing myself and my child to other moms and their children. Imagine a whole room of first time parents, all vying for some sense that they have a handle on things, trying to fight off that sense of panic that comes with being a parent for the first time and having your life changed completely as quickly as someone pulling the rug out from under you. Now imagine a society where almost all parents are like that, because they only have one child.

On that note, the Korean ajumas say that moms of three boys are 깡패, gangsters. I've got to go knock some heads, but will try to keep up the blogging now that I've started again.

Note: Thanks for the comments, everybody! I have figured out how to email my posts, but I have not yet figured out how to approve comments from behind the Great Firewall. So keep the comments coming, but be patient with them appearing on the site. I still get a lot of spam so I don't want to set it to automatically post comments. I will figure it out soon.

Two Years Later

2010-10-09T15:01:00.001+09:00

My goodness it's been a long time since I've blogged. Too long. Sitting here in front of the computer I'm at a loss for how to start. My fingers don't know their way around the keyboard anymore, and I find myself sounding more like whatever book I'm reading, my old blogging voice buried somewhere in the recesses of my brain.

So where were we? I think I had been providing updates on the language. Here's where we are on that. Aiden is much more comfortable in Chinese and his Korean is still very good. Some of the comic book series that he loves reading in Korean have been translated into Chinese, and he can read those too. He used to be shy about talking to Chinese-speaking kids in the playground, or waitresses in the restaurant, or taxi drivers, but now he just talks. He doesn't always know all the words, but he is able to converse easily, without thinking much. He still reads a lot in Korean and we have been spending about 2 months a year in Korea, so I don't think his Korean has suffered much if at all. Through his reading he's still picking up a lot of vocabulary. He still thinks my Chinese is better than his, but I doubt that's the case. He certainly can read better than I can.

Max's Chinese has improved a lot, but his perfectionist tendencies hold him back in public. He will speak Chinese if he knows the other person doesn't speak English or Korean, but otherwise he will not. He is now in first grade at the same school Aiden goes to, and doing quite well. His Korean has been declining since we moved to Shanghai, but I spent a lot of effort teaching him to read last year, so at least he's literate. Every time we go back to Korea for a month he picks it all up again, but English is definitely his strongest language, by far. He's also become a pretty proficient reader in English.

Felix has joined our little house of boys, but his language ability is limited so ah-goo and grunting at this point. I've been telling the big boys that they need to speak to Felix in Korean, but I haven't enforced it so far. I need to come up with a language plan for him fairly soon. Something like: I speak English, KC and the other kids speak Korean.... but then what about the Chinese? Hmm.

We have been here for over 2 years now and it is finally feeling comfortable. Two years seems to be the amount of time it takes. We've settled down. We're in a different apartment complex (for the last year) which we love. The kids have their groups of friends, who are quite international. There's a gang of Korean boys on the bus, and a Korean basketball team on Sundays, which allows them to maintain a nice Korean social community while in Shanghai. Aiden's soccer team and Max's Kung Fu classes are Chinese. And we have a great group of friends from all over the place, with North America well represented.

China still doesn't feel as comfortable as Korea, and it never will. I feel like I have a good sense of Korea, an impression in my mind of how things work. But my relationship with Korea is far longer, I gain a lot of insight into Korea through KC, we lived in Seoul for much longer (5 years), and we lived as locals, with the kids in public school. I used to go long periods without speaking to anybody who wasn't Korean. Here my life is different; we live in a bubble. It is not as opaque as it could be. We don't have a driver, we don't live in a villa, we take public transportation, we don't live in Jinqiao, our kids go to a Chinese school. But it is a private school, and they are in the international class. I would love to hang out and speak Chinese with the other moms from school (this, after all, is how I picked up so much Korean -- by lunching with the ladies) but it would be a burden to them since their English is fantastic. Our roots in Korea grow deeper and deeper because of the local school connection; every time we go back to visit, we run into Aiden's friends on the street, and the moms make as much effort as I do to maintain the kids' friendships. Seoul feels like home, and our neighborhood there is comfortable and easy. People know our names and we know theirs, and they are still around every time we go back. Because our friends in Shanghai are mostly international (even if they are from Shanghai originally), we are always saying goodbye and making new friends. In two years I won't know anybody here, I think. They will all be moving on.

It's wonderful to meet international people because they understand so much of the way we live, and we understand each other so well. But like us they tread lightly in China; they are here to experience, and observe, to taste the air and leave and go taste the air somewhere else. They are not here to put down roots, to be invested, to shape this place. And for the most part their insight about China does not go longer than 5 or 6 years. They have an emotional relationship to China but it is personal, not so much historical.

In Korea my friends are not so international, they are not so well traveled and maybe not as well educated, but they are Korea. They talk and understand from long experience in that one place, and their knowledge of that place is inseparable from themselves. What I learn about Korea when talking to the ladies at lunch may not be historical or factual but it teaches me about the categories and stories they carry around with them as they approach the world, and that teaches me about the way they understand things.

I had hoped to develop a sense of China the way I did of Korea, but I don't think that's going to happen. We won't be here for long enough, my ties to the community are too superficial, and, let's face it, Chian is BIG. Much bigger, much more diverse, and much more regional than Korea. Maybe, in fact, I don't have a sense of Korea at all, just of my little area of Gang-nam in Seoul. But Gang-nam in Seoul is kind of where it's at, and a fourth of the population of Korea lives in Seoul. So that's a good start. But Shanghai, despite its size, is nothing compared to the rest of China, and even within China, there's so much regionalism. My ayi is from Sichuan, one tutor is from Shanghai, and the other is from Dong Bei somewhere (yes, we have a tutor for each child and an ayi, I am a total tai-tai now), and I can see the differences, and the skepticism and assumptions they arm themselves with when it comes to people from other regions. But I don't understand them.

I wasn't expecting to emerge from this experience as an old China hand. I really hate it when people go to a country for a short time (and 2 years is a short time) and then talk about it like they really understand it. After all, I lived in the States for what? 28 years? And couldn't tell you the first thing about the Deep South or Texas or the Midwest (even though I lived in Ann Arbor) or LA or New York. I can't explain the Tea Party. I don't know what The Hills is about, or why people like wearing sweatpants with words written on the butt. So this is not a complaint or even really a post of disappointment.

I'm not sure what it is. Maybe a proactive staying off of "what is China really like" type questions, which I can't answer. But also I think a preemptive sense of loss. Because I really would like to be able to hang around for another decade and see what happens here. I have already witnessed so many changes, and they are going to keep happening. Seoul is different, really different, each time I arrive. And China is changing even faster than that, fast enough to feel viscerally, every day, not just at intervals after leaving. But I won't get to stick around and witness this as a resident, because we are leaving in 4 months. We are moving back to Seoul for 18 months (give or take), then probably back to the U.S.

I haven't blogged for many reasons, some of them logistical, but underneath that there's been a hesitation to say anything until I actually had something to say. I remember coming to a point, after about 2.5 years in Korea, when things clicked in my head and all the fleeting impressions coalesced into stories, cause and effect, statements, insights. I've been waiting, patiently, for that to happen here, knowing it would take a long time. But now I'm out of time, so I'd better start typing.

Back to Blogging. I think.

2010-08-27T15:30:00.001+09:00

What's funny about c*ns*rsh*p is how it becomes automatic and internal over time. Whenever I leave China I engage in rabid facebooking, but I rarely look at youtube, twitter, and blogs. I have gotten out of the habit.

While here, I could invest in a VPN like so many others, but I am too cheap to do it. And I'm so busy with the kids that blog-reading and youtubing were only activities I did in my few minutes of spare time, here and there, so when I found I could no longer do those, I didn't have much time to make a sustained effort to find work-arounds. And by the time I did have time to make an effort, I had already weaned myself of my old habits. I no longer need the Great Firewall, I am my own censor. How sad.

Anyway, I've decided to try to get back into blogging, by e-mailing my posts in. We'll see how that goes. I won't be able to look at my own posts, and I can't moderate comments from here so you're comments won't show up until I leave the country again. But keep the comments coming. Some feedback from readers has encouraged me to start up again, though the blogging will be fitful at first!

(the asterisks are just in case... paranoia has also made me less than an active blogger)

this is a test

2010-08-21T06:32:00.001+09:00

http://www.nytimes.com Seeing if I can email a post.

What if there's boldface?

Italics?

한국말?

汉语呢？

random other text

blah blah blah

Curious words

2010-08-12T09:52:00.002+09:00

I'm making a mental list of words whose origins I want to know. The first two:

1. "18번": This is your go-to song for karaoke, the one you know you can sing really well. Why "number 18"?

2. 아이스케키: Lifting a girl's skirt so her underwear shows. Sounds like "ice-cake" to my English ears. I heard this word for the first time when some friends were reminiscing about their elementary school days.

Yes, this is a short blog considering how long it's been. Baby steps.

Pop quiz

2009-03-25T10:14:00.001+09:00

At the bus stop this morning, out of curiosity, I gave Aiden an impromptu quiz.

“Who is 세종대왕?" “He made 한글."

“Good! How about 이순신?" "He fought against the Japanese. He made 거북선."

“Yeah! How about Mao Tse-dong?” “He was China’s first.... uh.... I forgot the word.” He just read a story about Mao in school so I knew he was familiar with the name but hadn’t yet absorbed the vocab of his title.

“How about Confucius?” Blank look. “Maybe you know him as 孔子.” He shakes his head and says, ”不知道。“ Ah, maybe you know him as 공자님?" “Ah! Isn’t he a god?” “No, he was a philosopher. He’s the guy who said, ‘Respect your parents, love your children.’” “OH, I think I know. I thought he was a god.” (Has has achieved almost deity-like status...)

“OK, how about George Washington?” His face lights up. “He’s a famous basketball player!”

I guess we have some work to do.

It’s always interesting to think about what materials we use to learn language and culture. My own Chinese textbook includes a lot of old stories which teach both vocabulary but also a kind of cultural and philosophical point of view. We had an argument about this story (very roughly translated from memory):

A businessman, a banker, and a politician were lost, walking through a forest near a mountain. As it was getting dark they finally found a farm. They knocked on the door and asked the farmer if they could spend the night there. The farmer said, “Sure, but I only have room for two people. The third will have to stay in the barn, and the smell there is quite bad.” [臭气 was the vocab word for “bad smell,” but I found it only applies to rotten or sort of BO type smells, not, for instance, to drying paint, which is what I attempted to use it to describe.... anyway....] So the businessman volunteers to stay in the barn. They all go and lie down, but a short time later there’s a knock at the door. The businessman says, “The smell was unbearable!” The banker says he’ll go and sleep in the barn. Shortly he too knocks at the door, saying that the smell was overwhelming and he too could not handle it. The politician scoffs at them, saying something like, it’s just a smell, how is it that you can’t handle that in order to get some rest? A short time later there’s yet another knock at the door. The farmer, angry, opens it and draws back in surprise, for rather than the politician, he sees all the barn animals.

A funny story. Our interpretation was that the politician smelled so bad -- in other words, that he was so despicable -- that the animals couldn’t stand it. We took the story as a humorous criticism of politicians. The teacher’s interpretation was that politicians are such extraordinary people that they can handle anything. She said it was not a criticism of politicians.

I haven’t paid as much attention as I should to Aiden’s lessons (I’m trying to spend more time teaching and playing with Max when Aiden’s with the Chinese teacher), but the Mao story surprised me. I asked his teacher what Chinese people think of Mao. Do they still consider him a great leader? She said, rather carefully, that Mao “enabled them to stand,” (站起来), that he was great in the beginning, but he did some “bad things too.”

That’s a whole post in itself, but I started to think about public figures/symbols in cultural consciousness, and how much the longevity of a figure rests on the repetition of that person’s name and his/her stories. I’m sure Aiden has heard to George Washington before -- In fact, I’m fairly certain I explained to him that Washington, D.C. was named after him -- but the absence of George’s head and stories in his life made that information both irrelevant and quickly forgotten. King Sejong, however, is on Korean currency, there’s a museum (which Aiden’s been to, though he probably doesn’t remember) named after him, and stories about him abound. There’s a statue of Admiral Yi Sun-Shin in Kwanghwamun, there was a movie or drama made about him while we were living in Korea, we saw a model of the turtle boat at the Lotte World museum, not to mention that for little boys he’s a kick-ass dude. Now that we’re living in China (and thinking about taking a trip to Beijing) I’m sure Aiden’s little brain will be collecting impressions and images of Mao, Confucius, and other Chinese characters without even knowing about it. He’s not yet studying history (they take social studies, which very neutrally started with Ancient Egypt) so his historical knowledge is pretty spotty.

Anyway, I owe another language post, but I’m really behind in a bunch of areas and skipping class to catch up, so I’ll have to write it another day. But I wanted to record this before I forgot about it!

First time back to Seoul since the move

2009-02-10T14:22:00.002+09:00

Rather rambling, unedited description of our first trip back to Korea.

So we’re just back from three weeks back in Korea. This was our first trip back (and the kids’ first trip out of China) since moving 6 months ago. I had imagined leaving the kids with the in-laws and having oodles of time to catch up on reading and studying while there but that didn’t happen. We were running around like crazy people pretty much the whole trip, seeing as many friends as we could and having the kids return to their old schools, piano lessons, swimming lessons, and taekwondo. It was great.

We landed at Incheon on a Saturday evening. Pretty much from the moment we landed there was this sense of lightness and relief. The signs, the language -- everything was familiar. We all stopped in the bathroom and I was tickled to be back in a place where you can reliably (in the airport, at least) find toilet paper in the bathrooms. There were no people yelling at each other. And then there was -- a mother yelling at her daughter for wanting to get divorced. That was weird. They were both clearly from the countryside. Later as we were leaving she was crying and holding onto her mother’s leg, begging for forgiveness. [It reminded me to the begger children around People’s Park here in Shanghai -- some of them only 3 or 4 years old -- who grab onto your legs when you walk by and beg for money.] But that’s the thing -- I knew this particular incident was odd. I have enough sense of Seoul to be able to interpret whether something is normal or an exception. In China (because people kept asking me to describe China) I just have no clue. All I can really see is my own reactions to China, with no reliable sense of what lies underneath.

On the airport bus I wanted KC to stop talking to me so I could take in the landscape. “It looks so peaceful and organized, doesn’t it?” he asked me. It did, but I think that’s as much a function of expectation than some sort of reality. Parking on the sidewalk, small stores with contents spilling out into the sidewalk -- my perceptual habits are used to accommodating scenes like that. Our neighborhood in China is relatively new and nice but China in general is still an assault on my senses, because so many parts are still puzzling or unfamiliar. Coming into our neighborhood in Gangnam things seem even more orderly because Gangnam-gu has spent so much money in recent years straightening sidewalks and repaving. The newer buildings also have fewer signs on the outside. The effect of this is a rather restrained, and organized atmosphere. It reminded me of going to Tokyo some years back. Although cities in general tend towards a sense of crowdedness and chaos, the precision of the small details in Tokyo made it feel much more orderly than Seoul at the time.

There was snow on the ground, so after we got off the bus the boys started a snowball fight. Max still has the idea that snow and Christmas belong together, and was quite puzzled when presents arrived without snow. When we got to Seoul he asked, “Is it Christmas again?”

Sunday morning the first thing I did after a nice meal (courtesy of my mother-in-law) of 떡국 and Seoul Coffee Milk was get a much needed haircut and 두피 treatment. As my friend Ming once said, when you move you can always make new friends but it is really hard to find someone to cut your hair. I’ve only cut my hair once in Shanghai (out of desperation) and my hair guy in Seoul spent a good deal of time holding up various parts of my hair going, “Wha....? What happened here? Why is it cut like this? Who cut your hair? Why didn’t you go to a nice Korean salon?” Ha. For the record, I wanted to do it on the cheap in a neighborhood place, and the job they did wasn’t bad, but they did hack one side oddly short. Anyway, I was chatting with the woman who washes my hair and she commented that I seemed to have forgotten a lot of Korean. The words were just coming... rather... slowly. I kept thinking in Chinese first. It was a weird feeling.

Max had a little trouble with Korean too. KC and I decided not to move around much for those first 6 months because we wanted to give the kids a chance to settle down. By the end of 6 months, though, we had all made incredible improvement in Chinese and gotten out of the habit of speaking Korean. We debated about going back to the U.S. for the Chinese New Year holiday (I’d really like to see my friends and family there, especially my new niece) but we decided that on top of the distance, cost, and time difference, having the kids speak Korean and renew all their social and familial ties to Korea would be more important. Watching Max and myself stumble with Korean those first few days made me glad we made the choice to come back to Seoul.

Aiden and KC didn’t have any trouble with the language. Aiden’s at the right age, I think -- I’ve heard (or read? can’t remember) that 8 is the magical age for languages. Aiden jumped right back in with no noticeable difficulty. It took Max and me a few days and then we were fine. And Max surprised me by having whole conversations with me in Chinese during this time. Since we mostly speak English and Korean at home I hadn’t realized just quite how good his Chinese is. He uses conjunctions and will pick up on any word I use and use it back to me, correctly. Blew me away. I knew he had improved a lot, but I had underestimated him.

KC had suspended my cellphone account so I could keep the number while gone and I had to wait until a weekday to reactivate it. So Monday morning I sent out a spate of text messages announcing that we were back and asking if we could make playdates. It was so nice to have my old number and phone intact, and the messages started coming back immediately. I spent so much time on the phone that day that I ran out of batteries and began to think Aiden needed his own secretary.

It was wonderful to re-enter our old communities; it was as if we never left. I felt, again, grateful for doing all those classroom cleanings and lunch duties with the first grade moms because we have a bond now that was slow to build but is now strong. We’re depending on the kids having strong relationships with their friends in different countries in order to maintain both language and cultural knowledge, plus the desire to maintain those. But I’m starting to realize how dependent I am on the mothers of his friends to keep those friendships up. They need to value the relationship as much as I do or it doesn’t really work. I’ve started to notice myself scrutinizing Aiden’s friends’ parents; not because I care so much what their socio-economic backgrounds are but because their values do really matter. Aiden has a new friend in Shanghai that we invited over a few times and each time his mom said no. It didn’t matter to me what reputation his friend had as long as they liked to play together, but after meeting and talking with his mom I began to realize the friendship probably wouldn’t go very far. She’s a very ambitious mom, and pushes her son in all sorts of areas, but just doesn’t seem to place much value on his social relationships.

I really appreciate this about the Seoul moms I’ve gotten close to: that they make an effort to sustain those relationships. And because so many of them, like us, have either lived abroad or are planning to expose their kids to multiple educational systems, they are good to talk to about the experience of moving back and forth. I hear from friends who have repatriated that because the experience of living abroad is relatively rare in the U.S., friends back home often don’t really want to listen to stories of the time spent away; the experience is too incomprehensible, or maybe they feel threatened or something. My friends back home have been pretty supportive but it was good to talk to these moms nonetheless. They know how much effort it takes to try to keep a foot in each culture. It took me a long time to break into the social group here, but those ties, once made, seem pretty strong.

This time back I was really glad we had sent Aiden to a neighborhood school. Walking around the place we kept bumping into people we knew. The first day back (after my haircut) we went to lunch at a neighborhood udon place located next to a large complex where one of Aiden’s friends lives, and while we waited for a table I jokingly said to Aiden, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we ran into Dylan here?” Not five minutes later a pack of boys runs around the corner -- not just Dylan, but Dylan and three more of Aiden’s friends. They immediately begin jumping up and down and shouting, “장웅재! 장웅재! 장웅재!" I had told Aiden that the first day would be a family day, but so much for that. He ate a quick lunch and joined his friends to play. If he had gone to international school (or even local school with an international section, like he does now) we wouldn’t be able to depend on seeing familiar faces upon returning; the turnover rate is too high.

Between running around seeing friends and sending the kids back to their own schools we were continuously busy. The kids in Korea were on vacation too but I assumed that they would be pretty busy with hakwon and other activities so I had planned, with the help of my father-in-law, to send the kids to piano, taekwondo, and swimming nearly every day, having them resume the lessons they left off when we moved. We’ve found lessons surprisingly expensive in China -- perhaps because they are more geared towards the well-off than they are in Korea, where each neighborhood has its own small piano, taekwondo, etc. studios, keeping the prices competitive. The kids come home from school late in Shanghai and with the overwhelming task of adjusting to a new language we decided not to enroll them in anything extra (though Aiden has swimming once a week at school and Max takes piano in his kindergarten). Max started taekwondo this time. It was nice to see him willing to go as long as he could follow his brother. Aiden held his hand and showed him what to do.

Our insurance is in Korea so we also had to do all the uncomfortable medical and dental check-ups. Aiden’s eyes have gotten a lot worse so the first Monday morning we were at the eye doctor, and then later in the day I took him to the Coex to get him new glasses. KC and I have been going to the same store in the Coex for the last ten years or more, always to the same guy there, who knows us well. I left Max with my in-laws and Aiden was positively jubilant the whole way there -- riding the subway, walking down the street. His face was beaming and he was jumping up and down with glee. Not just because he got to have some mommy time but because, I realized, he was so ecstatic to be back in Korea. He’s usually a happy kid, but he was bouncing with happiness to be back. I could, in that moment, really get a sense of how hard the move has been on him. I felt that sense of lightness too, being back in Korea, back in our old stomping grounds, full of random knowledge about where to go for this and that and how to phrase things with tact. It was how I felt going back to the U.S. during those first few years of living in Korea.

Anyway, we got to the glasses store and I was talking with the guy (I can never remember his name, because he looks like an Asian John Cusack, and that’s all I can think about when I see him) about our move and stuff and I had a flashback to the first time I was in that store. It was before we were married, so that must have been over 11 years ago. He gave me an eye exam and I couldn’t understand a word; KC had to translate for me and I felt very uncomfortable and embarrassed because I couldn’t understand. It was a measure of how far I’ve come, to be able to bring my son back here and go through the process of getting him glasses and conversing about a range of topics without a dictionary, without preparation, without even thinking. It felt really good, and reminded me that the feeling of ease and lightness could be had in China too, if I gave it some time.

Both kids went back to their old schools. Max’s kindergarten principal told me just to send him for the whole trip, which was unexpected and very nice of her. I had already scheduled all the other classes so I ended up sending him less than half the time. It’s still the same school year (since they go March to March and we left after their first semester) so his old classmates and teacher mobbed him upon return. Aiden’s teacher also told me to send him, since our last week there overlapped with their first week of school after the lunar new year break. The Korean school schedule is a bit weird. They pretty much finish the curriculum by the end of December, then have a month off. Then they go back after the lunar new year for exams, but in the lower grades there are no exams. So Aiden went to school for a day and watched movies, played games, and made things with paper. No real studying. It was nice to see his classmates though.

I was going to write more but I see this post is already really long. By the end of the trip my Korean was back, Max’s Korean had improved a great deal, and so did Aiden’s. Aiden’s become quite a bookworm. I caught myself scolding him a few times for going over to friends houses and reading their books instead of playing with them. I bought him a new manhwa book on Obama’s life, which he read in something like 30 minutes. I couldn’t quite believe he read it so quickly, so I started quizzing him, and then he accused me of being like Obama’s mother, because I’m always getting after him about studying. Ha. Our luggage was quite heavy with books for the kids and for myself. I picked up TOPIK and KLPT books while there, but I don’t know which one to take. Anyone want to give me some advice?

Several of Aiden’s friends’ moms commented that he’s matured a lot since we left. One called me to tell me that he had told her, “옛날에 할아버지가 잔소리 하시는것 되게 싫어했는데, 이제는 얼마나 사랑하시는지 느꼈어요." (Something like: I used to hate it when Grandpa would nag me, but now I understand that’s how much he loves me.”) He’s been less shy. Neither kid wanted to return to Shanghai, but Aiden said he was still glad we moved because he could appreciate the differences. Max announced, as soon as we arrived, that he loved staying in Grandma and Grandpa’s house and that we should stay there and not go back. I said, “What about Julia?” He said, “She can get on an airplane and move to Korea!”

One of my main accomplishments during the trip: I finally got around to making and printing about half of our Seoul Life book. Long time readers will recall that we make a travel book for each of our trips (I’m almost caught up on those too -- the last trip before the move and the one trip to Shenzhen hadn’t been made yet, but have been now) but I wanted to make a book about our life in Seoul. Aiden and I spent some time brainstorming what it would include: people we know, places we go, schools we’ve attended, food we eat, holidays, seasons, etc. I’m not really sure where to get things printed yet in Shanghai, but I have a guy who did all my printing in Seoul and I wanted to use him so that was good incentive to knock out a bunch of the book. Cost me about 100,000 won in printing, I got a lot of it done, and it was great to be back and look through the pages with the kids and my in-laws. Not only did it give us the chance to look back at all the fun things we did in our five years in Seoul, but it also let us watch the kids grow up again. I had forgotten how little Aiden was when we first moved. And since Max was born in Seoul, looking at his baby pictures again was great fun. I wish there was some way I could post parts of the books online for people to see, but the files are huge.

Anyway, we’re back in Shanghai now. Although it’s great to be back in our own place, and the warm weather has triggered a kind of biological excitement at the approach of spring, there’s a feeling of reluctance to return, a kind of dread at being back in a place where I’m too nervous to even get my hair cut at regular intervals. Aiden’s been complaining about going back to school. I have to remind myself that this feeling will pass, and that it is not the fault of China, but rather a natural shrinking away from the unfamiliar and challenging. I have to remember to be patient, and to appreciate the battles we already won, and know that this feeling, in time, will pass.

Multicultural living forum on Shanghai Family

2009-01-09T10:10:00.002+09:00

Hi everyone,
I recently got involved with Shanghai Family magazine, which has just launched its website. Check it out! And, for all you Shanghai people out there, look at the forums. I'll be moderating one on "multicultural living." I hope that we can get some good discussions going there. I've pasted my intro to the forum below.

You may be thinking, What is “multicultural living,” and why have a forum for it?

If you’re anything like me, when you move to a foreign country your first instinct is to think through the logistics: Where will we live? What schools will the kids go to? What do I need to bring? How do we get our visas? But I’ve found, after two such moves, that those are the easy things. There are resources available to help you make such decisions and a finite number of choices.

The hard part, for me, is learning to feel at home in the new place, to cultivate relationships with the people I meet there, and to feel like I belong as I move alongside strangers and go about my daily tasks. I find myself in a new place where even people’s gestures are incomprehensible, where they have different rituals and standards of politeness, and where I stick out like a sore thumb even when walking around.

And I’m not just talking about interacting with locals -- I spend just as much time trying to decipher other foreigners!

So on one hand, I suspect that there are a lot of questions floating around out there about the proper way to behave at a wedding, how much to put in a hongbao, what to bring as a guest at someone’s home, and the meanings of various rituals.

But there’s another side to the idea of multicultural living as well. I'm married to someone who grew up in a different country, speaking a different language and raised in a different culture, and we’ve spent a lot of time figuring out how to articulate and work with those differences over our marriage. And since want our kids to feel comfortable in both cultures and languages, “multicultural living” has been a kind of domestic experiment: how can we raise our kids to be able to move across boarders and feel at home in different places?

Even for people who are not in a cross-culture marriage, this may be something that you are interested in for your children -- especially for the kids who have grown up abroad.

So whether you have
- questions or insights about cultural differences living here in Shanghai,

or
- ideas or questions about ways in which to incorporate multiple languages and cultures in your own or your kids' lives

THIS is the forum for you!

Welcome to the forum, and post away!

The age of criticism

2008-12-22T10:29:00.003+09:00

First, a belated response to some comments.

David, thanks for the warm comments. I hope you are all well, and that we'll be able to see each other soon -- maybe in HK or Shunde? We miss you all. I love seeing the pictures of Susie. No matter where you end up, I think hearing Korean from a young age will help her down the line, even if she doesn't continue with the language. I suspect that part of the reason I've been able to pick up Korean and Chinese relatively quickly is that I was exposed to Cantonese when I was young.

Micah, thanks for your comment! I agree with what you said about memorization. One of the reasons I'm content with Pinghe right now is because they do, through subjects taught in English with American texts, include more creative expression than I was expecting. Aiden's doing a speech to run for mayor of the class today, he made a poster to save the sharks before that, and made a model of ancient Egypt before that... those were the kinds of activitis I did in public school in the U.S., and I think I had a very good education. These projects involve some relatively long-term planning and a variety of forms of expression: verbal, 2-dimensional art, 3-dimensional art. I'm not sure what the U.S. is like these days (and of course the U.S. educational system is very regional); but while I think the U.S. in general is good with creative problem solving and critical thinking there seems to be strong distaste for memorization. And sometimes I think memorization is good. You've got to memorize the times tables. You've got to memorize spelling. And when it comes to learning a language you've got to do some memorization. Even in a speech, you've got to be able to hold the structure in your head and talk around it. So my comment about memorization wasn't to embrace it wholeheartedly, but to recognize (as someone who also has had a distaste for it pedagogically) that a little memorization can be a good thing. But I should have also commented that in his curriculum overall memorization has been accompanied by other more creative and critical techniques.

This is a bit tangential but I really like the writing textbook they are using. I've done a lot of teaching of writing (to graduate students and for younger children) and I was really impressed but the book. But (as I'm finding now) this kind of work (creative writing, projects like those described above) requires a lot of participation from the parents.

Some kids are more self-sufficient (most girls seem to be able to do these things by themselves, if my quick survey of the other moms counts as evidence) but with Aiden I have to spend a lot of time helping him break his projects (and test preparation) into steps, making him work on those things daily, helping him through the process of revision. As any writer knows, most of writing is being able to step back and think through a piece of work in multiple ways, to be able to sense structure and flow, and then to revise. Aiden’s a “let’s finish this quickly and play” kind of kid. Helping him with projects -- helping him tame his ideas and make them presentable and polished -- requires a lot of patience (I’m failing in that area) and attention. Memorization, from the parent’s perspective, is easier. It doesn’t require much thinking on the parent’s part. Maybe my standards are high (I don’t think they are) but this kind of schooling (assuming the projects are done at home -- the kids in American schools have very little homework) requires a lot more of the parent than the other kind does. I’m very glad that I’m not working and can spend this time with him, because he really needs the help. Max is a different animal. He sits next to us at the table and works with a great deal of concentration on his workbooks and drawings. I’m guessing that he’ll be able to do his work more independently. I don’t know how much of that is related to birth-order (he likes to do what his brother does, even if it means sitting at the table and “studying” for several hours every day) and how much is personality. Max has always been more detail-oriented, better with small-motor control, more into drawing. I’m teaching him to read Korean now and he’s catching on surprisingly quickly.

On another tangent, my blog and my other writing has suffered from this lack of time. I’m in school all morning and I have to save energy and patience to help Aiden with his homework all evening. I have a few hours in the afternoon to split between building my social relationships, doing household things, and working on my own long-term writing project. It tires me out.

What I’ve been meaning to write about: the age of criticism

Until a certain age Mommy and Daddy are just Mommy and Daddy, not People -- but the main sources of comfort, security, and knowledge of rules and boundaries. Kids Max’s age can’t think of their parents as people, they just are. But at some point kids start to realize that their parents are not perfect, that they can be criticized like anyone else. And once that criticism starts, it never stops, does it?

Aiden’s reaching the age of criticism. He’s old enough to have accumulated a large set of evidence -- make that grievances -- about the way that we treat him. He’s been around the block and seen the large discrepancies in the way people parent in different families and different places. I have taken care to explain to him (many times, I tend to run at the mouth) why I make certain decisions that are different from his friends’ parents: why he’s not allowed to watch much TV, why I won’t buy him a Nintendo DS, why we have to move, etc. There are unintended side effects to everything. A few weeks ago we met the daughter of a friend and after a few minutes Aiden sidled up to me and whispered, “Mom, that kid is really spoiled.” He then spent the rest of the evening making whispered analysis of all the ways in which the mom encouraged the kid’s spoiled behavior. So he’s able to see the ways in which parenting choices mold the behavior of children, and I think that’s generally a good thing (as long as he keeps it to himself in the name of politeness) but it’s also encouraged him to increasingly turn his critical eye on my parenting choices. Some days I’m feeling a little like a Big Three Executive meeting Congress. But with a little more to show, I hope.

The other day he was being extra fidgety with his Chinese tutor (who has learned that days when Aiden doesn’t have gym class are days in which he cannot sit still) and she jokingly said, “If you don’t listen to me maybe I should start hitting you.” He said, very seriously, “You can’t do that!” She said, “Your mom doesn’t hit you?” He said, “No, of course not! If she did I could leave and go to another family.”

Where did he get that idea? But this idea seems to have taken over his thinking. I guess I have, in retrospect, presented parenting, living, behavior, etc. as a series of choices, emphasizing the ways in which we can pick and choose how we want to be, and it makes sense I suppose to extend that to family. The other day he was complaining that an old reward system that had existed in Korea was no longer (I had taken advantage of the move and let it expire). I explained that since he was older he no longer needed to be rewarded for that particular behavior; he was mad and said, “I don’t want to be a part of the family anymore. I want to go to a different family!” I laughed at him. Not a nice laugh, I was pissed. “You want to leave your family over a piece of CANDY???” Because I forget that although he can be supremely rational about some things, he’s just an 8-year old, unable to look past the blow of a loss of a piece of candy and remember all the ways in which his family is really good.

In other kid news...
Both kids are speaking so well it is a little scary. Aiden now has character dictation once a week and they’ve progressed to some tough characters. His stroke order is more correct than mine, and he can now understand grammatical patterns without ever learning them as such. (It’s so different with the adult learner. Though I do remember finding myself using grammatical patterns I never learned in Korean; one day they just started emerging from my mouth. Surprised me as much as anybody else.) Max can now have short conversations in Chinese, and he speaks whole sentences easily.

I’m so jealous.

Aiden came home one day to tell me a story about an incident in gym class that included the following: “...and he hit me with the 쇠 hula hoop and then the 후반장 said, “下课了？“ And the teacher said, “没有。” It made me laugh. We tend to mix a lot of Korean and English at home, but that was the first time he threw some Chinese into the mix. It used to be Korean with a little English, then it was something like, “Mommy will you 고쳐this 장난감for me? 빨리!" (Max) And now it’s more like, “Mommy can we have some 계란for dinner?” Just a word here and there. Though they still tend to talk to each other in Korean. We’ll go back to Korea for a few weeks in January and I think their Korean ratio will rise at that time. I’m just playing with percentages now.

***

I’m not sure how long I can keep the Santa Claus charade up. I took them to see Santa at a fair at Concordia school last month and Aiden said with suspicion, “Is this the real Santa?” One of the volunteers said, “Is there any other kind?” Then just before we sat on Santa’s lap he asked me, “Can I speak to Santa in Korean?” I was mentally kicking myself for having told him last year that Santa can speak all languages in the world. The circumstances necessitating that declaration are fuzzy but I think it was probably because he wrote his letter in English and Korean last year. This year it was all in English. Anyway, I told him something lame like, “This is an English-speaking fair and for the sake of politeness maybe you should stick to English.” And then a week or so later we went to see the lighting ceremony at the Hongqiao Marriot where there was another Santa. Aiden said, “Mommy, this is a different Santa!” I think the jig is almost up.

From last year, here’s my post on “Lies I tell my kids.” It still makes me laugh.

Four Months in

2008-12-03T10:47:00.000+09:00

I can hardly believe we’ve been here for four months. I’m feeling more settled. I really love our apartment and neighborhood. Now that the weather has turned cold and I spend the mornings shivering in an unheated and damp classroom, I am supremely grateful for our apartment with its heated floors, double layers of windows and sunlight. So many Shanghai residents spend the winter (so I hear) with their windows open and no heat. I suppose that’s better for the environment but I’m such a wimp about cold I can’t imagine it.

Speaking of the environment, I meant to mention some of the features of our place that I really like. We control our water temperature, so we only heat the water when we need to use it. The boiler doesn’t run all the time; you turn it on before you need to take a shower or run the floor heating system. (Our apartment has ondol heat which is not common in China but since we sleep on the floor we looked for an apartment with this feature; our neighborhood has a lot of Koreans and therefore a good number of ondol apartments.) You can turn it off when you’re not using it. Same thing with the condenser for the air conditioning and the heating system. Also each room has controls for both floor heat and ceiling level air conditioning/heating. And, like in Korea, there’s a switch to shut off the gas when we’re not cooking. Gas, electricity, and water are relatively expensive in Shanghai and we use them as sparingly as possible, although I have been going a little crazy with the oven (having not had one for the last 5 years) and I do like to make the floor nice and warm when I get home in the evening. Sometime in the middle of the night I’ll turn everything off. Our apartment is pretty well insulated (unusual for China) and retains the heat well.

I also love our neighborhood. The complex itself is very nicely done, when I look out my window I see trees and water and the effect is very peaceful. Cars can’t come into the interior of the complex so it is quiet and safe for the kids to play. There are lots of hidden paths which Max loves to explore. In the mornings there are always a lot of people doing taeqiquan and some sort of sword-dancing. In the afternoons the interior areas are dominated by kids riding their bikes or playing badminton. Just outside of our apartment are shops and cafes. A Sephora and Zara are opening across the street which may pose a danger to my budget. The subway station is a little far compared to Seoul but I found that it only takes me 15 minutes to walk at my pace, and the station is on line 2, which is a really good line for going to Lujiazui or Puxi.

The big language news this month is that Max has started speaking. He started perhaps a week or two ago -- I noticed it when two of his friends came over to play. One of his friends doesn’t speak much English (though she speaks Spanish and French) so the three of them were fighting in Chinese: 这是我的！不，这是我的！ Max was saying it also. After that he took off and seems really keen to speak it. He asks me for translations so he can say all the things he wants to say. One day he came home upset because, “Michelle told Julia ‘I won’t be your friend anymore.’ But she said it in Chinese.” So he understands more than what he can say, and he’s able to respond to questions appropriately most of the time. I’ve also made some headway teaching him to read 한글. Considering how much time I have to spend with Aiden on his homework, this is quite an accomplishment. KC brought back some workbooks from Korea on his last trip and now when Aiden is busy doing his homework (if Max is not still working in his dinner) Max sits at the table and does his homework too. He can now recognize 가,나,다,라, and 마. Poor second child, completely neglected by mommy. He’s also doing better with English lower case letters and phonics. Good thing he likes to draw and write.

Aiden’s recognition of characters is very good now and they’ve started to write and have dictation in the last few weeks. Like me, he can recognize many characters but blanks on how to write them. He also has trouble remembering stroke order. He continues to do 2-3 hours of homework a night. After yelling at him for a half an hour about why he can’t remember the difference between plural and plural possessive I have to remind myself that I’m asking him to absorb an awful lot of information at once and asking an 8-year old to concentrate for that long is, well... asking a lot. The other moms are telling me to give it 6 months; they say after 6 months it gets a lot easier. Overall he’s happy and cheerful although he often complains about having to go to school.

Lately Max has been asking a lot about death. I remember Aiden having similar questions at around 3 or 4 years of age. Max asks, “Why do people have to die? Will Mommy die? Who will cook me food then? [this made me laugh] How will I die?” I told him that everybody dies and that this is why we should live each and every day well. So Aiden said, “But how can I do that when I have to go to school every day? It’s a waste of time! I can’t play, I just have to study.”

As for me, I feel like I’ve hit a plateau, but that may not really be the case. I remember in studying Korean that my progress seemed to follow a step-lilke pattern -- I’d feel like I was stagnating and not learning anything for a while, then all the sudden I’d make a lot of progress. But the hard thing is that often you don’t realize how much you actually are progressing. It’s not noticeable. It’s hard for me to get a sense, for instance, of how much my Korean improved after moving to Seoul. I don’t have a clear memory of what I knew at the point at which we moved, but I do remember that I only understood about half of my conversations with my neighbors. I also remember that there were so many words I didn’t know when KC and his parents talked to each other that I didn’t bother to ask what they meant. By contrast, I understand almost everything they say now; if they use a word I don’t know I ask about it.

The problem right now is that I am a very poor student. I don’t do the homework and I don’t review. For shame. Also I skip class whenever I’m too busy or feeling sick (like right now). The other problem is that I don’t interact enough with Chinese people. I talk to Aiden and KC’s teacher every day, but you have to talk with a variety of people in order to really learn to speak and listen well, especially in China where there’s so much variation in usage and pronunciation. When I was in Korea meeting with other school moms I got to hear a lot of Korean -- they talked a lot and were generally nervous about speaking English. But here when I meet the school moms they are all comfortably bilingual. They speak to each other in Chinese but speak to me in English. Their English is so good and my Chinese so poor by comparison that it feels inappropriate for me to inflict my Chinese on them, therefore I have less chance to practice.

One thing about moving abroad is that you learn that you have to work at cultivating social relationships from the moment you hit the ground. I’m willing to skip class more than I should if it involves meeting people, because I know that I need those relationships for psychological and practical purposes. The biggest accomplishment over the last few months is probably that we have connected with a bunch of other people through our schools, neighborhood, and random other ways.

Three months in

2008-11-03T14:37:00.003+09:00

We’ve just passed the three-month mark in Shanghai. I haven’t settled into much of a writing routine yet but I’m trying to continue to jot down notes on our language acquisition.

Max still hasn’t started to do much speaking. He had almost no exposure to Chinese in Korea so I know his listening time will be longer. He has surprised me by offering translations lately -- he’ll tell me “Mommy ‘gei wo’ means ‘give me.’ Gei wo blah blah” where blah blah is some Chinese-sounding thing he makes up and explains to me as “the ghost that killed the bad guy and has to hide under the table” or something like that. As far as I know translation is a different skill than being able to speak so I’m surprised to see him so actively translating. Perhaps this offers some insight into the way he thinks. I think of him as a very verbal kid, a kid who easily repeats what he hears, but looking back I guess he’s only repeating that which he thoroughly understands. That explains his recent Korean explosion, I suppose -- he’s finally verbalizing that which he had heard before but hadn’t understood well enough to say.
Max is also very conscious of who speaks what languages. He seems to categorize the kids in his class by what language they speak well and seems a little suspicious of being good friends with the kids who only speak Chinese -- at least, that’s how he sounds when to talks to me about them. But his teachers tell me he gets along well with everyone and he’s pretty chummy with a little Japanese-Chinese girl who doesn’t speak English. It’s hard to figure out how much weight to give his self-reporting.

Recently Max likes to say, "aiyah!" He says it very seriously and tells me that that is what his piano teacher says when she gets mad. Ha.

I forgot to write about this funny incident in my last post: Max takes piano lessons in school and told me, one day, that his teacher speaks a lot of Korean. I was surprised and asked him, “What Korean words does she say?” He said, “Do rae me fa so la ti do!”

One of Max’s best friends is a little girl named Julia who is black. Max has lived his whole life in Asia and hasn’t seen that many black people, so when we’d go out every time we’d see a black woman he’d tell me that she must be Julia’s mom, and any black kids must certainly be Julia’s siblings. Ha. Anyway, Julia’s mom and I had been exchanging text messages trying to get the kids together to play. (aside: One bad part about being a second child is that your social life always takes a back seat to your older sibling’s. I have been trying to make an effort to find Max a close circle of friends and give him more play dates.) We finally met on a school field trip and then they came over to our place to play afterwards. Julia’s mom is from South America and speaks Spanish, French, English, Chinese, and a little Portuguese. Her Chinese is very good and she’s doing a masters degree at a local university. It was very interesting to talk to her; she’s lived in Asia for a long time and her older son in particular has had a more difficult time finding friends because they stand out so much. Shanghai’s foreigner population feels much higher and more integrated than Seoul’s but most foreigners are white, Asian, or Indian. Her son is local school too (not the same one as Aiden) and it sounds like its been a rocky experience. Julia speaks very good English and Chinese and is quite the social butterfly in kindergarten, but her brother had some trouble with language confusion too. Julia’s mom used to have a good Korean friend (back in HK?) and was talking to me about how she reached out to some of the Korean moms here because she missed her Korean friend, but how hard it is to break into that social circle. I can totally understand that -- it took me a long time in Korea to really break in, even though I spoke Korean well. But I haven’t had any trouble here, I guess it is like riding a bike. I kind of know when to speak, when not too, what to say, how to time my approaches. Talking to her I thought that if we had a third kid I’m not sure how I’d introduce the languages -- three at a time? Or two first?

Aiden has just really started to speak: I see it and he is also reporting to me that he can now participate a little in Chinese during “tai quan dao”-- no longer “taekwondo.” He now will answer his tutor in Chinese. He has covered 30 chapters of their current textbook in class and can recite almost all of them by heart -- he’s got a good memory. I was a little uncertain about the value of so much memorization (especially since the text includes some pretty difficult and bizarre passages) but he does pull out relevant sentences and use them in real life.

We just returned from a weekend trip to Shunde in Guangdong, where my paternal grandmother is from. They speak Guangdonghua there which is totally different from mandarin. We were last there three years ago and Aiden played with a bunch of my cousin’s kids; at that time, they didn’t have any languages in common and communicated with body language and “argh, pew pew, zzzt,” etc -- fighting words, basically. This time they spoke putonghua (Mandarin) to each other -- we were all surprised and delighted to see how well Aiden could get along with putonghua, English, and body language. Aiden doesn’t know how to tease in Chinese but his textbook has a passage about a “mommy chicken” so “mommy chicken” became his new teasing insult, complete with chicken-like head bob.

Aiden’s progress is truly amazing, and his pronunciation is incredibly clear. I think I have pretty good pronunciation, but he puts me to shame. He has also really gotten the hang of pinyin and can spell correctly based on sound. He doesn’t always get the tones right though.

I heard guangdonghua when I was growing up because my parents spoke it to each other (mostly when they were trying to talk about me and my brothers without us understanding) and to their friends, and I always thought it was normal, and putonghua (Mandarin) was a sissy, wussy sounding dialect. Well, after not really hearing guangdonghua for many years I went to Hong Kong a few weeks ago and was shocked to find that guangdonghua is really, REALLY weird sounding. Actually, it sounds awful. It has a lot of sharp, guttural sounds. At first I was so surprised I couldn’t pick out any words. After a few days I started remembering some words. Then this weekend we were in Shunde with my relatives, all of whom were speaking guangdonghua (but speaking putonghua or English to me and KC) and I could pick out more words. Now that I’m learning putonghua I can start to translate word for word (when there is a word for word translation) and appreciate how different the dialects are. “Mei wenti” (putonghua) is “Mo wentai” (guangdonghua), but “xihuan” (putonghua) is “jongyi” (guangdonghua, my romanization). Totally different. Even though I’m a slacker student, putonghua is feeling more natural to me these days, and sometimes if I’ve been speaking Chinese I have trouble switching to Korean.

KC’s made a lot of progress. His ear has improved a lot so he can guess the general meaning of a lot of conversation despite having the least time to study (he’s still the worst one in the family). His knowledge of characters has helped a lot and also I think his general very utilitarian attitude -- he doesn’t try to sound perfect, he just tries to communicate. Shanghai people are pretty used to trying to figure out what others are saying despite differences in accent and in normal conversations I’ve found listeners to be pretty forgiving. I can make all sorts of mistakes (that will cause me to blush and hit myself on the head later) and they will still understand. Perfectionist tendencies must be pushed to the side during the beginning stages of language learning.

Starting now I'm making more of an effort to speak Korean at home. All of us have naturally begun speaking more English (and better English) as time has passed. I think we have to make a conscious effort to make Korean our home language before we get out of the habit of speaking it altogether. If we don't make a habit of speaking it we'll all forget it (especially the kids and I) pretty quickly.

Languages aside, I’m finding that three months in we’re still really adjusting. I know that the process takes a long time but I have to remind myself that even though we have a routine and things have gone smoothly that the psychological toll of moving to a new place (and a new country) is a long-term one. We’re all a little rough around the edges, we all have trouble holding our tempers, we all find ourselves less nice than usual. I’m usually the temperamental one and KC is usually pretty even-keeled, but we’ve both been equally affected and for myself, at least, I need more time to spend alone with my own thoughts so that I can be on better behavior with others. This is the tricky thing about moving -- it’s not a wound you can see or a hurt you can sense, but something that just makes you feel a little less like working and a kind of rawness that makes you get angry before you can think about why. I think that much of the dissatisfaction expats have with their new country of residence has to do with those unrecognized psychological discomforts than with something that is really there -- of course, there are difficult parts, but often the anger at those difficulties seems irrational or overblown. Another American friend of mine who also recently moved to Shanghai after living in Seoul for a long time told me she worries she is depressed. She doesn’t really want to go out, she’s happy to be alone, she just hasn’t been herself. I told her I think it’s just the move and to give it some time. I think it must be even harder when you’re older (she’s probably 20 years older than me) and have lived in the previous place longer.

Language notes

2008-10-06T16:54:00.001+09:00

I am not exactly sure who reads this blog (beyond the friends and family who are compelled to read) but I suspect that a few stick around because they’re curious or interested in our little language experiments. What follows are my notes from the first two months of living here... not as organized as I would like, but I want to write as much as I can down.

As most readers know, my kids are 8 and 4 and bilingual (Korean and English). They both attended bilingual preschool/kindergarten and Aiden attended Korean elementary school for 1.5 years. The language they favor shifts over time; we’ve intentionally traveled a lot, spending at least a month or two in the U.S. each year. After one of those trips they will always speak a greater percentage of English to each other and in the house. As time goes on they’ll speak less, but it never disappears. We also mix languages a lot at home but so far neither of them have had trouble with language differentiation. They speak Korean to Korean speakers and English to English speakers. (Once one of them -- I think it was Aiden -- informed my in-laws that they were not allowed to travel to the U.S. because they didn’t speak English.) I have noticed that whenever we travel their languages get better, and always both languages at the same time, which is really extraordinary. Since been here Max’s Korean has skyrocketed; he is using expressions that I don’t know and up until recently has been speaking Korean almost exclusively at home.

I know that children listen a lot before they start speaking a new language (thanks to my friend Elaine who has schooled me with her extensive knowledge on language acquisition in children). Aiden took about a year of Chinese in Seoul, but not intensively. Only once or twice a week, and some Rosetta Stone at home (the frequency varied depending on how much other stuff he had going on.) He couldn’t speak much but I think he got the basics of pronunciation, pinyin, and his ability to listen was primed by these lessons. When we arrived here he still had a month before school started so I enrolled him in a 3-week Chinese class (two hours a day) at a local (Korean) hakwon. I put him in the beginner level so it was pretty easy for him. I didn’t push him much to speak, especially because I know he’s shy and I think he has to do things at his own pace. When you’re learning a language in a different country you have to force yourself to practice speaking, but when you live in the place where you need the language all the time, the sense of urgency comes with the air you breathe and the food you eat. Aiden’s been on the receiving end of my opinions about the importance of languages and he’s had experience translating for English-speakers in Korea, so he knows very well how important language study is. But this is the first time he’s in a place where he has to do the learning.

After a few weeks, I noticed that every now and then he’d pop out with a full sentence. One morning when he was having trouble waking me up he said, “我饿了。“ [I’m hungry.”] Then, when KC’s teacher came over one day, he said, “爸爸是学生。” [“Daddy is a student.”] When his friend Martin came to visit from Korea we took the kids to Yu Yuan, and afterwards they had fun looking at all the different vendors. When Martin couldn’t understand what they were saying he would call Aiden, who apparently could understand what the venders were saying.

Once Aiden started school the sense of urgency became more pronounced. Aiden is going to a Chinese bilingual private school with an international section; in practice that means that the kids in his class are from Taiwan or Hong Kong, or born in the U.S. to Chinese parents. The week before school started I took him to the campus for his health check and then again for orientation. Even though the school has an international section it is not really geared towards international people who don’t speak Chinese; there were no instructions in English and I felt relieved to be able to navigate using observation, common sense, my elementary Chinese skills, my Korean, and my charm. (OK, maybe not the last one. Though it does come in handy.) There were problems getting him on the bus roster, and problems getting the correct size uniform for him. During the first week of school, KC wanted to take him to meet the bus in the morning (KC had always been the one to take Aiden to school in the morning and relishes that time together) but Aiden said, “I think Mommy should take me, just in case there are problems with the bus Mommy can use her Chinese to fix them.” Watching me deal with all the problems was, in retrospect, really good for him because he could see how important the language skills were and he could see that even though I wasn’t fluent I could still figure out how to get things done. (I almost lost my cool during the bus debacle but luckily when some Korean moms stepped in to help I was able to calm myself down. Good thing. The kids are incredibly observant; I was able to provide a much better example by remaining calm). Aiden often praised my Chinese to others, which made me feel pretty proud.

I should also mention that Aiden is a big fan of the 마법천자문series (he’s read and re-read all 16 books that have come out) and because of that he’s able to recognize a good number of Chinese characters. He’s also a very visual learner.

In Aiden’s school some subjects (in his grade, Math) are taught in Chinese and others (social studies, science) are taught in English. In addition they have both Chinese and English (grammar, reading, etc.) and P.E./swimming/art/music are (I think) taught in both languages. They have quite a lot of Chinese, and most kids in the class can speak fluently. He is in second grade, but because his Chinese isn’t good he and two others go down to first grade for Chinese. There are some other kids in the class who go down to first grade for English.

The Chinese is intense. I had heard that in China first graders start with pinyin and not characters but the book Aiden’s school uses begins with characters and knowledge of pinyin is assumed (good thing he already learned it). They learn at a furious pace; I’d say about 6 characters a day (recognition, not writing). They have computer software they use to learn to recognize characters and learn to type the pinyin. The text is difficult -- I have trouble following it. That’s because it organizes the characters by pronunciation and not frequency of use or simplicity. Thus the vocabulary he is learning is quite difficult and not all that useful for every day conversation.

Every week the school sends home a progress report. After the second week the teachers reported that Aiden was having trouble concentrating in class and following the lessons in Chinese. KC’s tutor offered to teach him for 30-60 minutes every day, which we’ve done since then, and his progress has been dramatic. He can read an incredible number of characters and his comprehension has increased a great deal. Because the text is aimed at native speakers he is not progressing the way he would if he were in a class geared towards CSL (Chinese for Speakers of another Language) students but he’s keeping up now and I hope that his comprehension and speaking will follow. He also takes an extra CSL class once a week. (The school provides CSL and ESL classes for the many children who are in similar situations.) It’s only been two months, so we’ll see. The other day we were in a taxi together and he started to read the text on the back of the driver’s seat (explaining the cab company’s responsibilities, etc.); he also reads the ads in the elevator.

On the school bus, the teacher tells me that Aiden understands her. In our first month here, before Aiden started school, we also sent him to 3 weeks of Chinese classes at a local hakwon, 2 hours a day.

In retrospect the order and the timing seems right. Aiden’s time in the Korean school system, with its attention to etiquette/protocol and its more stricter structure of education, has primed him to be more comfortable in a Chinese school where they have a patriotic salute to the flag on the field every Monday morning and the class leader (반장) orders the class to greet the teacher and also does minor disciplining. I’m meeting a lot of Korean parents here whose kids started elementary school in Shanghai, attending American international schools. They worry that when the kids return to Korea they will be unable to adjust to Korean schools. I, on the other hand, have no doubt that after dealing with these kinds of schools, Aiden will do just fine in American school. (If he knew how much fun the American schools were he would refuse to go to his school.) He had enough exposure to Chinese and to Chinese characters before we came so he’s able to pick up the language quickly now. And because he’s such a strong visual learner with reading habits in two other languages already established it isn’t so confusing. He used to exclusively read Korean books for pleasure, but because he’s getting more English at school he now goes back and forth between Korean and English books. A lot of the same Korean moms are concerned that although their kids speak Korean at home they lack basic reading and writing skills. Those kids attend Korean school here on Saturdays. We thought about sending Aiden too, but it seemed too much. Since he got a good beginning with Korean while we were in Korea I think that as long as he keeps reading and speaking he’ll be fine.

A couple weeks ago he told me that my worry was right. “What worry?” I asked. “I think if I stay here for a long time I might forget Korean,” he said. Its easy to forget how much he hears and remembers the things I say. I told him that we would no longer do English and Chinese homework at home beyond what he was given from school (since I used to assign him additional homework) since he was studying those subjects at school. I told him that instead I wanted him to just keep on reading as many Korean books as possible and send email to his grandfather and friends in Korea.

Another note: we had the choice of moving him up to 3rd grade (he’s the right age for 3rd grade) but since he had only completed half of 2nd grade in Korea we decided to hold him back and have him start 2nd grade over again. I’m glad we did that. It makes things easier for him linguistically and skill-wise. I knew math would be taught in Chinese but felt pretty confident of Aiden’s ability to perform well since he was good at math and solving problems above grade level in Korea. They were just starting division in the 2nd semester of 2nd grade in Korea. But here they did division on the first day of 2nd grade, no review or anything. I’m not sure what they do for 3rd grade math. I wonder how this compares to the U.S.; it seems awfully fast to me.

Aiden’s school day is very long now; he comes home at 4:45 (compared to 12:40 in Korea). As soon as he comes home he does about an hour of Chinese with his tutor, then has dinner, then does about an hour of other homework. If there’s time he plays with Max and I let them watch Korean cartoons on skylife (another method of keeping up the Korean -- we usually don’t let them watch TV). It’s a long day, and when he’s really tired at night he talks about how hard it is and how little time he has to play. But in general he’s happy to go to school and he’s happy when he comes back. The school gives them a lot of breaks during the day, including 90 min or so for lunch, which means they have a lot of time to socialize. It’s a large school, and it is also a boarding school, so he comes home full of adventures exploring all the different parts of the school, trying to sneak (unsuccessfully) into the girls’ dorm, etc. And they also (much like Harry Potter) have teams that run across the grades to build interaction between older and younger kids. Aiden’s on the tiger team, and they compete periodically in academic and sports contests against the other teams. Social interaction is important to me for a lot of reasons, including: he’s a social kid and needs it, kids develop a lot of language skills socially, and I hope his social relationships will extend his relationship to Shanghai beyond our stay here.

Now for Max. Max started preschool in mid-August. His school is also bilingual; they spend half the day speaking Chinese and half the day speaking English, with both an English and Chinese teacher on hand all the time. The kids come from different backgrounds, some speak Chinese well but not English, some speak English well but not Chinese, and a few speak a third language at home (like Japanese). I haven’t expected him to be talking much yet, just listening, but he loves to sing and has been singing the “wo he ni” Olympic song from the first or second day of school -- not correctly, but he gets closer and closer all the time. And he also will suddenly come out with a sentence or phrase. We were eating dimsum with some friends and he suddenly said, “Kuai dian, kuai dian! That means ‘eat faster,’ mommy!” (He is a very slow eater, he probably hears that phrase a lot at mealtime.) He is also able to repeat, verbatim, sentences from Aiden’s Chinese textbook, because he hangs around and plays while Aiden studies with his tutor.

Unlike Aiden Max is an extremely auditory learner. He’s able to repeat what he hears very quickly and easily. (His teacher told me that from the first day he was telling the other students how he had lived in Korea for 5 years before moving to Shanghai. She said, “But you’re only 4 years old, how does that work?” He’s heard me explain to people that we lived in Seoul for 5 years before moving to Shanghai and is repeating what I said.) He loves to talk and sing and play with language. He likes to instruct me by making up Chinese words and making me repeat them and commanding me to memorize them by tomorrow. As I mentioned before, his Korean his become incredibly good in the last two months. I think everything he heard over the last 4 years is starting to trickle out of his mouth as he is finally able to put it into a coherent linguistic picture. He hasn’t started to speak much Chinese, at least not in front of me, but his burst of Korean is a sign that all the languages are improving, I think. He takes a nap at school and his teacher reports that when he wakes up he has long conversations with the little boy who sleeps next to him, Matthew. Matthew doesn’t speak English and Max doesn’t really speak Chinese, so they talk and gesture to each other and figure something out. At lunch time a non-English-speaking ayi helps feed them and clean them up; Max is a notoriously slow and picky eater and his teacher tells me that he has learned how to engage in negotiations with the ayi using “zui hou” (the last, as in “the last bite.”). Max is very conscious of who speaks Chinese and who speaks English; he’s able to categorize the kids in his class for me, and seems more skittish about interacting with the ones who only speak Chinese. He’s had less exposure to the language but he’s such a good verbal mimic that I think once his brain has absorbed enough of the language he’ll start to speak it freely. Will have to wait and see.

The danger with Max is with Korean. Unlike Aiden he can’t read; I’ve started to teach him hangeul at home but because he is not as visual it is slow going. He has just recently become more interested in learning letters, such a contrast from Aiden, who knew the alphabet at 18 months. Different kids, different learning styles. I am trying to make teaching Max hangeul a priority for our home work, because I want to make sure his Korean will survive. He spends hours examining the same books as his brother, wanting to imitate him in every way, and I should take advantage of that. Plus he notices that Aiden gets a lot of attention when he’s doing homework and even though Max is content to play by himself while I’m helping Aiden, he also (I found out recently) will apply himself to doing hangeul worksheets. We all sit at the table together, Aiden doing his homework, me helping him or studying Chinese, and Max tracing 가거고구그기, his face serious and focused. It helps that he (unlike Aiden) loves to draw and derives a great deal of pleasure from choosing a pencil or crayon to pen his masterpiece.

As for me, what can I say? I’ve taken a few weeks of classes now and they have helped a lot. Not because I’m a good student, but because listening to a language for 3 hours is very very good for developing that language. I don’t pay much attention to grammar and I’m lazy about reviewing, and I think that the reason is that to some extent I now trust my unconscious mind to work on my behalf even when I’m not telling it to. With Korean I noticed that at some point I began using patterns that I never fully understood in class or that I had never learned at all. At some point I developed an intuitive feel for where certain words belonged. Some people in my class are very insistent on getting an exact translation for each word, but I don’t try to translate that much, I prefer to listen to the teacher explain a word in Chinese and use it in a few example sentences. I get a better sense of how the word is used that way; sometimes translating imposes false categories or connotations on a word. And when there’s uncertainty it doesn’t bother me. I can’t remember if it used to bother me or not, but now if I don’t fully understand I just put it aside and move on. I trust that I will learn it from context eventually.

I spent the first (many) years learning Korean from books and in the classroom so going out into the field provoked a lot of anxiety -- I stressed about saying things wrong, about not understanding, about making stupid mistakes, about my brain freezing. But after Max was born I didn’t studying Korean from books or dictionaries, I just picked it up as I lived and listened, and I learned to work around words that I didn’t know. I think that’s the main reason I feel more comfortable being lazy this time around. I’ve lived here for two months and been able to get a lot of stuff done with what I knew and a good deal of help from people I was able to lean on. I try to speak as much Chinese as I can and don’t worry much about making mistakes. People understand anyway. When I don’t understand I can generally make a good guess from context. In two months (not really a long time!) my listening ability has improved a great deal. I took my mother-in-law for a foot massage last week and a TV program was playing; I was able to understand a great deal of the program (a sort of reality show about trying to reform a delinquent young man who was living off his mom).

I’ve noticed a shift in expressions; my teachers in Seoul were mostly from the North, and the Shanghai southerns speak a little differently even when they talk in Putonghua. They don’t use append er much; they say “yi dian” instead of “yi dianr” and “you bian” instead of “you bianr,” which has required some shift in my pronunciation habits. (I said “yi dianr” to Max and he said, “No, Mommy! It’s ‘yi dian’!”) People here don’t use “xing bu xing,” they say “ke yi ma?” Shanghai people also tend to pronounce “sh” as “s” and “zh” as “z,” so “Ni shou shenme?” is pronounced “Ni suo senme?” “sishi” is “sisi” and “wo zhidao” is “wozidao.” I’m appalled that I now hear this in my head even though for the most part I pronounce the sh and zh. If I can ever get to the point where I speak putonghua with some level of fluency it would be useful to learn Shanghai-hua, but right now it is completely incomprehensible.

KC’s also improved a lot, though he says, “When you’re starting from zero any improvement looks good.” His pronunciation has gotten a lot better and so has his listening comprehension. He studies a lot, especially on weekends, and it gives Aiden a great deal of pleasure to tell his dad how easy KC’s textbook is. Aiden really enjoys showing KC his own textbook and asking him to read it, which KC cannot (he can read it in Korean though). I think it’s good for the kids to see how seriously we both take learning the language and how much effort we both put into it. But it’s also good for Aiden to see how much harder it is for us because we’re older. Study languages when you’re young, folks!
A non-language note... Aiden gets more and more interesting to talk to the older he gets. Shortly after we moved I was talking about how even though moving is really different, I’m really glad to be able to experience different places and people and things, and how I didn’t want to live a boring life. He said, “I don’t want to live a boring life either, Mommy.” Perhaps that was peer pressure, but I think he meant it.

I haven’t been blogging much lately because I’m tired in the evenings (all that conscious and subconscious language processing takes energy), but so far things have gone really well and I intend to keep observing and recording as much of the process of learning as I can. But sorry for the long pauses between posts... I was going to write more about how the kids have dealt with moving, but I think this post is long enough! For another time, perhaps.

Over at printculture, I put up a “Keeping up with the Kims.”

Becoming what we're called.

2008-09-10T08:08:00.003+09:00

cross-post from: http://saunamamas.blogspot.com/2008/09/becoming-what-were-called.html

I stole this title from an essay by Alice Walker about being called “dude.” I don’t really have any problem with the word “dude” but it is a lovely essay. But I am only slowly getting used to be being called “ajuma.” The title makes me cringe a bit, because I don’t want to be automatically incorporated into notions of bad driving, rabid consumption, visor-wearing, etc. (no offense Queen Min).

As some of you know, we have recently moved to China. I’ve written a bit on my own blog about how we’ve leveraged the knowledge and connections in the Korean community to hit the ground running here, but last week I really experienced the power of the ajuma network in particular.

Last Friday I took my older son Aiden for his school health check. The two of us moved as one wave towards the entrance of the school with all the other new students and their parents only to halt abruptly a few feet through the door as everyone in front of us stopped to survey the surroundings and figure out where to go. I said, “jian kang jian cha” to the matron standing there and she pointed me to one of the doors to the left. I went into a small room where parents and kids were crowded around a woman with a cashbox and a roster. The mom directly in front of me was a foreigner, I could tell, since her Chinese wasn’t smooth, but I didn’t know where she was from until the two kids next to her started arguing with each other in Korean. Look, I said to Aiden, Korean kids! He watched them from a position mostly hidden behind my body.

I had to fight my way into the cashier’s attention and by that time they were gone. I paid my money for “Jang Xiong Zai” and she told me where to go but I didn’t understand the directions. I figured I’d follow the flow of people, but after stepping out of the office I realized there was no flow, people were going in all different directions. I stood there in the lobby a little lost, Aiden looking at me with utter faith that I would figure things out. I waited until the people who had been behind us came out and asked them where we were supposed to go. That mom also didn’t know and went in to question the cashier again. She came back out and said something to me that I didn’t understand but I followed her and her daughter down the long hall into the gymnasium.

The gymnasium was set up with stations all around the perimeter: one table for blood, one for urine and stool samples, one for a vision test, one for blood pressure, etc. The room was full of kids, some with their parents and some in large groups with a teacher. I took my fa piao (receipt) and showed it to the people manning the front table who checked Jang Xiong Zai’s name off the list and gave me a stack of papers. She instructed me (I think) to visit each station and then bring the paper back to her.
At this point I began to feel like I could use an ally. Not that the situation itself called for any combat, but I felt I needed a cushion from the mass of people and noise. The Korean mom and her two kids were at the blood test station close to us so I went up to her and said, “최송하지만, 저희가 따라가도되요?" I picked the right person. She was surprised and a little confused to find that I spoke Korean, but not as surprised as people usually are in Korea. Her boys are twins, the same age as Aiden, but they tested into different grades, one into 3rd grade and one into 2nd grade (but not in the same class as Aiden). It turns out they live in the apartment complex next to us. (I REALLY met the right person.) The kids immediately started joking around and punching each other; they were already friends. They watched each other with fascination and a bit of pressure during the blood draw and none of them cried.

We went as a group through all the tests, meeting other Korean moms and their kids along the way. The twins’ family have lived in Shanghai for 2.5 years already and their mom (who had her youngest child, now 2, here in Shanghai) was familiar with medical terminology and the system of health checks. If I had been by myself I could have done it (I took Max for his kindergarten tests at the local hospital by myself and survived psychologically unscathed) but meeting her, the other moms, and those two boys made the process so much more comfortable. And it made the prospect of going to this new school seem far far better for Aiden. Standing in line for the chest x-rays the Korean moms and I were working out which taekwondo class to send the kids to and explaining which homework was supposed to be done during vacation. There was one pale little girl and her mom standing in line in front of me who was sort of caught in the middle of this group of Koreans.

After the health checks they came to our place to play with Legos and the Game Cube. We ordered 자장면 and spent hours talking about different schools, about language acquisition, about siblings and birth order, about raising boys, and other typical ajuma topics.

On Sunday we reported to the school for orientation. I met the twins’ mom in the room to pay for taekwondo and bus service. She had gotten there earlier and was waiting for me to sign up for taekwondo too. I went to pay for the bus first and found that Aiden’s name wasn’t on the list. The woman there told me that if he wasn’t on the list I must not have registered properly and he would be put on the waiting list. I started to get upset; I had told them we needed bus service, how could I possible take him to school every day and send Max on time too? The twins’ mom saw I was in trouble and came over to help me argue, and a few other moms followed. Them stepping in to do the talking for a little bit gave me some time to collect myself and recover my Chinese a bit; being upset doesn’t do anything for my language ability. Eventually I went to talk to the admissions director who knows me and she sent her assistant who told the bus people to let Aiden on the bus and that was that. More rigid here than in Korea and you have to know the right person to talk to; I have a lot to learn about negotiation.

But I was impressed by these Korean moms. They seem to speak Korean really well, they know how to finesse a situation, they know when to raise their voices and argue and they know when to sit back, smile, and pal around with the person. KC calls his “전투" Chinese (“combat” Chinese), not because it is necessarily confrontational but because it’s language learned in the trenches, necessary for negotiation but also ready to dig in until one side gets what it needs. Having just spent the last week relying on KC’s tutor to help us resolve issues with our shipment and our broken air conditioning, I was impressed.

We met Aiden’s teacher and received his uniform. It turns out that the pale girl who had been in the x-ray line in front of us is in Aiden’s class and I got to meet her parents who are Taiwanese but spent years living in Boston. I liked them very much and reflected that being in that bubble of Korean speakers had prevented me from making friends with anyone else -- we had spent all that time standing in line next to each other but didn’t actually meet until I was without my new entourage.

Tuesday was the second day of school, and after hammering out further bus problems on Monday we reported to our new bus stop at 7:20 sharp. The bus arrived and Aiden stepped on, then a mom and boy came running up from behind. What have we here? Another Korean! I spent about 20 minutes talking to that mom after the bus left; she had just moved to this side of town from Puxi and has lived in Shanghai for about a year, but was full of worries after switching her son’s school. I told her I had to go take a level test at Marine University where I had enrolled to take Chinese classes and somehow (did I convince her?) she decided to enroll too, so we met a third woman (also Korean, but young and relatively newly married, no kids) and went together. Then we had lunch and ended up talking for 5 hours afterwards. I introduced her to KC’s tutor, who came over to the apartment to teach KC, and she promptly hired KC’s tutor to hire her own children.

Next day. I had to pay the twins’ mom back some money I had borrowed to pay for bus service (yes, I was unprepared, despite finding nearly every day that I need to carry more cash because China is such a cash society) and I thought I should introduce the twins’ mom to the mom I had just met; their sons are in the same class. The three of us enrolled at Marine University were planning to meet and go and buy books together anyway so I asked the twins’ mom if she wanted to come to the meeting place and 인사 to the others. She ended up coming along for the ride and again we spent about five hours talking, adding another mom (whose son is also in the same 3rd grade class) around 11am. The group was snowballing, picking up new members here and there, and I was playing an active part in making that happen, hooking up the people I know and actively incorporating them. I felt empowered by the process; in less than a week I had found a community to fall back upon. After the bus problems I hadn’t had any big problems but the 3rd grade moms were having issues with uniforms, schedules, and classes and they set about pooling their resources to solve them.

This is the information gathering power of the ajuma network. It was a network I benefited from while I was living in Korea, without working very hard to create and sustain it. The neighborhood ajumas had already done all the footwork to figure out the best soccer programs, swimming lessons, teachers, the way to get certain homework assignments done, etc., and I just leeched the knowledge from then, offering my English expertise in return. Now I find myself here in China actively hooking up moms I know from different places who have similar anxieties or interests, building layers of a support system that help me deal with the largely unknown Chinese aspects of living here but also buffer me from those aspects. It is both a blessing and a source of danger, as it allows me to get a lot of things done in a short time (we’ve only been here a month) but decreases my need to interact with locals.

I guess I am an ajuma after all.

My papers

2008-09-06T10:45:00.002+09:00

After a much-needed break, I'm back at printculture on Fridays (that is, if I can get my act together).

Post from: http://printculture.com/item-2066.html
Or: What I did on my printculture vacation.

I spent my printculture vacation moving from Seoul to Shanghai. Moving on a tight budget requires a paring down process -- we ended up giving or throwing away a good portion of our belongings and all of our furniture and were still left with about a ton of stuff to transport to our new home. But the logistics of transporting stuff turned out to be a lot less complicated and interesting than the logistics of transporting our identities from one country to another. And that process, it turns out, is one of accumulation -- of documents, stamps, and allegiances sworn and committed.

I thought of H Saussy’s post “Your Papers” many times over the past few months as I tried to get our visas straightened out. H asks, “One project for those who really want to enumerate the brass tacks of nationality and nationalism would be to study the emergence of these famous “papers.” Who got the idea first? How did the practices of “keeping tabs” grow and change?” “What was the nature of the links between the document carried by the citizen in his or her pocket and the files against which it would be verified or supplemented?”

I wasn’t out to investigate nationality, systems of accountability, or systems of verification, but I kept subbing my toes on the corners of these topics. [And having taken a month off from writing I will approach them with baby steps.] All I was trying to do was document the family relationships between my husband, me, and our kids so that we could get the appropriate visas to reside in China. This process was complicated by the fact that my husband and I are citizens of different countries and our children our dual citizens; it was also complicated by the more stringent visa regulations the Chinese government had implemented in preparation for the Olympics.

Korea is one of those relatively panoptic nations — each citizen has a resident’s number, needed for everything from opening a bank account, reserving a movie ticket online, and visiting the doctor. On a practical level this makes Income taxes pretty simple because everything you do is recorded under your number. There are no joint bank accounts. Even foreigners holding a “resident foreigner” number have trouble in Korea: we can’t get credit cards, have trouble getting a cell phone (also registered under one’s number), and run into problems ordering things online. I wouldn’t want to be a criminal in Korea, but for the purposes of establishing identity my job was easier. From the Korea side all I needed was one document — the 가족관계증명서 (family relationship document) from any neighborhood office (동사무서). We had to have it translated and authenticated by the Chinese embassy in Seoul. This document in itself is relatively new, a stripped down version of the all-important Family Register (호적등본). It shows that our children are indeed our children and that my husband and I are married, but my kids are listed (of course) under their Korean names and my name is written into the document in Korean and with no other identifying numbers. Would the Chinese officials recognize “이제니퍼” as “Jennifer Lee”? National documentation is self-referencing and doesn’t include many options for people who don’t belong to the same national system. If we ended up using the kids’ American passports would we have problem with their name inconsistencies? With all those potential problems we thought it best to cover all our bases and go through the steps of processing the American documentation.

On the American side things were considerably more complicated. Documents like birth and marriage certificates are issued by states (and counties within states) and therefore need to go through several layers of authentication. I was married in Northern California, my older son was born in Michigan, and my youngest was born abroad; therefore I needed to request documents from three different places, have each signed by a notary, and then have each certified by the secretary of state which has jurisdiction over that location. Then each document needed to be sent to the Chinese consulate or embassy for that location: the marriage certificate sent to San Francisco (not Los Angeles -- it was returned to me), one birth certificate to Chicago, one to the embassy in Washington, D.C. Since I was doing all this from Korea with help from my mother in San Diego, you can imagine the cost and time involved. Getting consulate certification of the SOS-certified marriage certificate alone took about a month.

In the end it turns out we didn’t use any of the American documents; it took too long to acquire them and since visas for Korean citizens are cheaper than those for American citizens we ended up sending the kids to China on their Korean passports. (The new regulations also means we received six month single-entry visas instead of year long multiple-entry ones. Guess we won’t be leaving the country for six months.)

While I was doing the groundwork to establish an identity in China (an identity bound to my husband and children) I still had to maintain my identity in Korea. I was living in Korea on a two-year family visa (my ability to stay in the country again dependent on my relationship to my husband) but my visa was going to expire a month before our move. I could have stayed in Korea for 90 days without a visa but then I would have to give up my resident’s card and the aforementioned resident foreigner number, making it difficult to do anything.
Family visa holders are really only supposed to receive one year but depending upon the mood of the processing officer and how well you can mimic desperation or trustfulness you can receive more time, as I did — my last visa had been for two years. But in those two years I had forgotten which documents I needed and the immigration office website and online reservation system had changed. I spent a good deal of time trying phone numbers trying to figure out which documentation I needed before making the trip out to the immigration office, only to find out upon arrival that I had made the reservation incorrectly. I must have the look of desperation down, because the officer in the reservation-only line took pity on me (the non-reservation line was at least 70 people long) and served me, but asked me why I hadn’t applied for the equivalent of a green card. We hadn’t even known such a thing existed, and it turns out I had been eligible to apply for one for the last two years. If only we had known! That would have saved us a lot of money and time, and would have enabled me to come and go from Korea with such ease. But it was too late; I didn’t have two months to go through the application process. Laws and procedures in the Immigration Office are purposefully opaque.

The state has a little trouble with people who don’t fit into strict citizen/foreigner categories (of which there are increasingly many). For the Korean visa one of the documents I needed to bring was my husband’s 주민등록등번, a document which shows his resident’s number. The problem is that he doesn’t have one because he himself is a green card holder in the U.S., he has to use the 국내거소신고사실증면 (Certification of Domestic Residence Report) instead. He is a citizen without a citizen’s number, ineligible to vote or apply for a credit card. Our children had to be registered under their grandfather’s name in the Family Register in order to be eligible to attend public school.

We finally arrived in China and promptly (within 24 hours) reported to the local police station to receive the “Registration form of Temporary Residence,” which we needed to convert our visas. Given our experience in Korea and the complication of applying for visas I was surprised how easy it was to apply for a credit card — all I needed was a passport, a contact in China who would vouch for me, and a hunk of cash. I didn’t need to make myself a stamp/chop for banking the way I did in Korea, although the tellers use them frequently. I still have a collection of stamp/chops (도장) from Korea: the 인감도장, registered with the government, is used for very important legal documents, while other stamps/chops are used for bank accounts and less important documents.

So here I am with a folder full of papers from three countries creating a web of verification and cross checks, cobbling us together as a family unit despite the multiple passports and names. I closed two bank accounts when I left Korea (leaving two behind) and opened three more here. I have a drawer full of stamps/chops, cards, and OCTPs so that I can move my money around. I have a new “parent card” that authorizes me to be the one to pick up my child when he arrives on the school bus. I have a new access card to enter my apartment building. “Show me your papers,” in retrospect, seems like such a simple request. Now it is more like, “Show me your passport, your ID cards, your fingerprint, your 6-digit PIN, and bring someone who can vouch for you.” This is no longer just a question of the government keeping tabs over its own citizens, but of, on the micro level, needing to provide proof of identity for small, daily level tasks, and on the macro level, finding ways to check identities across borders as international travel and exchange increase in frequency and volume. To go back to H’s questions, I too am curious: “How did the practices of “keeping tabs” grow and change?” “What was the nature of the links between the document carried by the citizen in his or her pocket and the files against which it would be verified or supplemented?”

-------

P.S. Because of GreatFirewall issues, I can't hit livejournal, wordpress, etc. sites. Blogger's ok. I try to read things through google reader, but I can only do that if the full feed is available... vTunnel is ok but slow for some reason. So my plea is: make the full feed available! Thanks!

moving headaches

2008-08-28T09:55:00.003+09:00

One thing I remember about those first months in Seoul is how tired I was. All the stimulation of city life, the new smells and the constant push and pull of bodies, plus the fatigue from listening and speaking Korean all day long made me exhausted by 8pm every night.

The last month (has it been a month? geez) here has been like that. Been catching up on some rest. (Hear that, Ma? I really DO know how to sleep even when you don't remind me every day.)

But writing/blogging is a habit and once you fall out of it it is difficult to start up again. I owe some posts over at my other blogs but I figured I should write some updates.

Things have gone surprisingly smoothly... until this week. First our air conditioning broke, and fixing it has been less than straightforward, involving several different sets of repair personnel, negotiating with the real estate company and landlord about how the payments will be made, and relying on KC's fudao (tutor) to do a lot of translating. Going back and forth between Chinese, English, and Korean (with the real estate company) is taxing on my poor brain. It kind of short circuits. Luckily the heat has dropped off somewhat in the last week or so. Before that it was almost 100 (F) every day.

The big drama right now is with receiving our shipment of 745k of books, clothes, etc. It's been really hard to get a straight answer about where the stuff is and why it is not arriving. We were told that because of the Olympics it might take up to 2 months to arrive, so we weren't impatient, but suddenly the other day we got a phone call that because we had some candles and one bottle of children's paint (put in accidentally) in the shipment it had to be taken around the country and couldn't enter Shanghai, or something like that. They clearly inspected the boxes very carefully. Anyway, luckily the fudao was with me when they called because I didn't understand what was going on. They were asking us to come and pick the stuff up, but we understood that it would be delivered to us. Then they told us they would reimburse us for the cost of having a company pick it up but that we would have to arrange it. It was good to listen to her negotiate with them, to try to learn the style of negotiation. She argued that since we're foreigners we don't know anybody, we also don't know the details of where and when the shipment will arrive, and it doesn't make any sense that they should ask us to arrange it if they are going to pay for it anyway. They argued that they are not a Shanghai company, that we just have to ask the neighborhood people for a good company, etc. etc. Back and forth like that. The fudao said she didn't know how much to believe was true or whether they were trying to get more money. Anyway, we called the Korean company to pull some strings and get things moving, and they somehow got the company on this end to arrange shipment. I was expecting it yesterday. I waited all day. Then they called in the morning to say, "When are you going to pick it up?" So we went around again. Then they said, "Oh, ok, this company will deliver it, but I don't know when, will call you in 30 minutes." But didn't call. So we called them back. She said she called but we didn't answer. (bullshit) She gave us the number of a different company who would deliver it. We call them. They said they've had the stuff for DAYS. (WHAT? The other company said it just arrived. Who to believe?) They said, how about 10:00pm? We said, how about tomorrow morning? A price negotiation followed.

OK, so now I'm expecting it today, and the driver calls to say he couldn't cross the large road behind our apartment without a permit so he has to turn back. WHAT? Shouldn't they have thought about that ahead of time? They blame us for not telling them, we blame them, shouldn't they know these things, how would we know? We call Korea again, they advise us to get the stuff ASAP no matter what and we can work out being reimbursed later. So now they're supposed to deliver at 10pm tonight (you can enter the city without a permit at night) but they're going to charge double. Whatever. I just want my stuff now. We've been living with only 2 bowls for a month. Rice and soup have to go in the same bowl.

Max has been in preschool for about 2 weeks and is doing great. His teacher has sent me several detailed updates by email which I love; the updates were really thoughtful and observant. He's asked me a lot of interesting questions. He asked, "Are we Chinese now?" He's been inviting his teacher and friends over for brownies and sleepovers (we have an oven so we've made several batches of brownies, much to Max's delight). He asked me who is taking care of our apartment in Korea. He asked when we are going back to Korea.

Max has been doing an interesting thing lately. He will make up some nonsense phrase (like "moomamooma") and tell me it is Chinese for something (like "come over here"). He tells me this very authoritatively and seriously, makes me repeat it, and instructs me to study it. My Chinese is not great but it is good enough to know that he is not really speaking Chinese. I think it is a sign that he's engaged in listening to the language and interested in being able to speak it even if he cannot yet. It is also very very funny.

That's enough updates for now... need to call the moving company again. More on Aiden later.

Living language

2008-08-12T21:56:00.002+09:00

I'm rediscovering the difference between learning a language while living in the country where it is spoken versus learning it somewhere else. Put me in a social situation with someone who speaks putonghua with a clear accent and I can have something like a conversation: I can talk about where I'm from, why I'm here, what I did during the day, and give my (simple) opinions on various topics. I like talking to KC's Chinese tutor because she speaks so clearly and it is a boost to my confidence that we can actually TALK. But put me in a situation where I need to get something specific done and I'm not so great.

For example. I need my coffee fix every day, but I left my grinder in Seoul. It was made for 110 volts and I didn't want to buy adaptors for every little household appliance; figured it would be easier to buy a new one when we arrived. But I couldn't immediately find a grinder so I went to purchase some already-ground coffee, not knowing the word for "grind" but figuring I could wing it at the Coffee Bean. The woman understood "grind," then asked me in Chinese what kind of coffee maker I had. I understood the question but didn't know how to answer it; we usually use an Aeropress which was still arriving via airmail and in the meantime had borrowed a Bialletti from my father (one of those you put on the stove). The Bialetti doesn't use a filter so the grind can't be too small. In any case I had no idea how to describe either machine so I just gestured and tried to explain it was not like the machine they had there. I didn't know the words for "coarse" or "fine." (I do now.) I ended up agreeing to something I didn't quite understand and got my coffee a little too fine, but the Aeropress arrived and it's all good.

Or the other day: I took Max for his health check. He's required to have one before entering kindergarten, and it took place at a local women and children's hospital. If I hadn't lived in Korea the system would have been seemed weird and chaotic, but because I was familiar with it in theory I could figure most things out through observation. I went in and told the woman at the information desk that I needed a youeryuan jiancha. She handed me a ticket, told me to pay the cashier and then go through a set of doors and wait. I did as I was told and entered a large waiting area with dozens of people and a small indoor playground. I had a number but wasn't sure if I was supposed to check in. From Seoul I'm used to butting in to get a nurse's attention; the nurse was very kind and told me to sit and wait. We didn't wait long before entering a room where Max was weighed and had his height, head circumference and chest measurements taken (not much privacy, the kid before and after us were also in the open room). We were then told to go to room 125, but after fighting for the nurse's attention in that room (because there didn't seem to be a line) she told me I need to go and do something which I didn't understand. Some body gestures and a few words of English later I got it: blood test. But where? She gave me directions I thought I understood but I ended up somewhere random and another nurse helped escort me to the blood drawing area. But then the blood guy (I know there's a name but I can't be bothered to look it up -- language centers already overloaded) told me I have to pay for the test first. So back to the cashier where I paid; then back to the blood station where I figured out (through observation and pathetic hanzi skills) that one line is for children. Max got his finger pricked and it was over faster than I expected. (I like having blood drawn by people whose job it is to draw blood all day. They are fast and inflict relatively little pain. Max did very well.) We then went back to room 125 where the nurse told me something that I didn't understand, referring to one of the papers I was carrying. The kindergarten had told me that the a urine test would be involved, so I deduced that it was that test we were missing, (and confirmed using my dictionary and some scrutinizing of the test sheet) which was perfect because Max was doing his "I need to pee" dance. But where is THAT test done? Asked the nice original nurse, who escorted me back to the blood area. Realized that the urine test windows were right next door. Oops. Took a plastic cup, did the pee thing in a cramped bathroom, went back to now-familiar room 125. Now a different nurse was there, one who spoke some English, and asked me where the results are. Oh, you mean I have to wait for the results? Since I'm already there, she feels Max's stomach and organs and looks him over. OK. Back to urine. Find the results. Take it back. Where are the blood test results, she asks me. Oh, I have to wait for those too? (I'm used to those blood tests where you get the results in 2 weeks). Go BACK to the blood and urine area, where sure enough Max's results have already come out and are sitting on the table waiting for us. Go back to room 125. Hand over the results. The nurse finishes off the paperwork and tells me to give it to the teacher. The people next in line are already nudging us over. I take Max home. This, my friends, is how I learned the words for "blood test" and "urine test."

(I also know the names of many infectious diseases in Korean because Max had all his vaccinations there.)

My wish come true

2008-08-06T19:26:00.003+09:00

So a while back I complained that there should be a Korea blog written by a group of women, and abracadabra, now there is.

I've been glancing now and then at the conversations about why ex-pats complain and why Koreans take the complaining badly, and starting to feel like part of the problem is the constant positioning of the "ex-pat/foreigner" against "the Koreans." Grouping people into categories can be useful to some extent, but there comes a point when the categories elide more careful analysis rather than encourage it. Anyway, that's part of the reason why we hope (we're still putting together the roster) our new blog will include a variety of people from different kinds of backgrounds: various Western ex-pats living in Korea, people in mixed marriages, Korean-Americans or other 교포, Korean-Japanese and adoptees, Koreans, etc. I don't know who will really write yet, this is just our tentative plan. Anyone who is interested in joining (and is female, since we do our blogging from the 목욕탕), let me know! (yunmay at gmail.com)

The Korean connection

2008-08-05T23:23:00.001+09:00

I have temporarily abandoned my old style of writing in favor of recounting events, as I guess is appropriate when a lot of things are going on and I don’t have much time to process them. In any case, I write all these details because I think the whole process of moving from one foreign country to another is pretty interesting. At least I find it interesting.

I mentioned before that on our last trip to Shanghai, the other Koreans in the program that KC will be attending were of great help to us when we were searching for an apartment and trying to figure out health insurance, visas, etc. So on the day after we arrived we met with Ethan (one of the Koreans we had met on our last trip), who has a son the same age as Aiden. We went to their apartment (located in the complex next to ours) and played for a few hours, and ended up staying for dinner. The kids hit it off right away, and we liked Ethan and his wife very much. From then we went on to meet a number of other Korean families at the swimming pool a day or so later (I’ve lost track, so much has happened).

As I mentioned before, we were immediately fit into the existing network. Because these people are all related through their program, there’s an automatic 선배, 후배 relationship there, but because KC is older than the people who came before, he’s a “hyung” or “da ge.” These people come from all sorts of different backgrounds, but someone like Ethan, who worked for a chaebol, is used to the kind of give and take that we’re benefiting from now: when he and his family arrived a year ago they were taken under the wings of the people who were here before and taught the ropes. Now they do the same for us. It’s been incredibly useful and because of that network we’ve hit the ground running.

Carrefour, where I’ve spent a great deal of time lately, is wonderful but doesn’t deliver. So to buy water for the water dispenser or large amounts of rice I learned where to call and how to order it by interrogating Ethan and his wife. KC was pretty sick yesterday, some sort of 24-hour stomach virus (perhaps 水土不服?) and we were wishing we had brought 위청수. I called Ethan’s wife to find out if she had any. She suggested calling the Korean grocery store. I called them and ordered the 위청수, rice, kim, and cider and it arrived via delivery 10 minutes later for 97RMB total.

There’s also a Korean hakwon in the area, that teachers math, English and Chinese. We enrolled Aiden in Chinese classes for the next three weeks, 2 hours a day. A shuttle comes and picks him up and drops him off. Although he’s been playing with his new friend daily I hope he’ll make some more friends at hakwon.

I can’t imagine making a move like this without the internet. Whatever I need to know I can find out through the people I know, through the English-language message boards, or for the Korean boards, where people post pretty much everything. It’s no substitute for going and seeing it yourself, and our situations differ because our kids have different languages under their belt. (Many Koreans come here so that their kids can learn English and attend international school. Ethan’s son goes to one of the American schools.) Max’s preschool (bilingual Chinese and English) is tough for kids who only speak Korean, so they tend to go elsewhere.

The danger here, as with all ex-pat communities, I suppose, is that it would be easy to slide into this network and not get out of it. I could take Chinese classes at a hakwon for Koreans, lunch with the ajumas afterwards, and shop with them until it was time to get my kids. That’s not what I plan to do -- I want to be a part of the Korean community but not exclusively that community. We may only be here for 18 months and I hope to actually learn something about the local people and ways of living -- as much as I can. But for now, I’m grateful to have all this help at my fingertips, and surprised at the high level of colonization of this area by the Korean community.
And geez, it feels good to speak Korean. It just rolls off my tongue, I don’t even have to think about it. The mandarin comes OK, considering I took a break from classes for the last 3 months. Taxi drivers seem to understand me. But tonight I ordered 오므라이스 and 수재비 for dinner (we still have no kitchen supplies) and it was like I had never left Seoul. Except the plates were plastic. More on recycling another time.

***
I should say that despite all the advantages gained from being a Korean speaker, English is the most useful language here. The bank, the grocery store, the hospitals -- all have people who speak English. I can see why Western ex-pats find Shanghai an easier place to live than Seoul. I opened a bank account and a credit card yesterday with nothing but a passport. The manager had to help me fill out the forms, but it was pretty easy.

And then it was moving day.

2008-08-04T14:56:00.000+09:00

I thought I would be more emotional when the day finally came, but by that point we had all driven ourselves to the point of exhaustion. When considering how I would write about it I could only come up with labor and delivery metaphors. I was more emotional about leaving Seoul before I had started to pack; once I became engrossed in the sheer labor of packing, changing addresses, making the rounds to say goodbye, and working on the logistics (insurance, banking, transportation, schools, etc.) of our arrival, I couldn't even think about the day after we arrived. I really was like being in labor again. I had prepared myself for labor like I prepared for athletic events and at some point I really lost track of the fact that a BABY would come out of it.

So here we are in our new home and my stomach is almost disbelievingly beginning to unclench. I’m still bracing for impact and now quite ready to let go, although everything has gone surprisingly smoothly.

Moving out of an apartment in Korea is pretty interesting in itself because of the jeonsae system and the way apartments rentals work. For those who don’t know, we pay a rather large amount of money here, called jeonsae (almost $200,000 for our apartment) when we enter the apartment. We then pay no monthly rent. When we leave, the owner returns this sum of money to us. (You can probably understand why many young couples or families depend on their parents for coming up with jeonsae -- the people who moved into our apartment when we left used their parents money, as did we.) Each resident has to acquire or bring his or her own appliances, which creates a lot of waste. We were mostly using my in-laws' old appliances and furniture, but we did have a nice newish refrigerator (3 years old), gas range, microwave, and air conditioner. Except for the refrigerator we wanted to give everything away, but even giving things away are difficult -- the air conditioner, for instance, requires someone to uninstall it and take care of the freon gas. The gas range requires calling someone from the gas company to come and disconnect the gas line which costs 15,000 won and is really silly, if you think about it, because the next tenant is just going to hook it up again as soon as they move in. We gave away a good amount of stuff and threw away just as much. That ended up taking as much time as the packing. We ended up having to airmail (at the last minute) another 75kg of clothes, books, and kitchen stuff because we were limited to carrying only 20kg per person on the plane and our two yo (beds, kind of) and bedding was already 40kg.

I wrote about customer service before, but the 빨리빨리mentality here can be very convenient for the consumer but hard when you're on the service end. We called the gas company to come and disconnect the gas around 9am and they said, "Well, it may take some time..." "시간 조금 걸리겠어요." I was thinking 2 days. They said 10 and the guy came before that. We realized, on the day we were vacating, that there was no way we would be able to meet the weight requirements with the amount of stuff we had left to bring with us so we called the shipping company to see if we could airmail a few more boxes. They came within a few hours, packed 3 more boxes of stuff, and took it away. (As a side note, the first of our airmail boxes arrived today. They stagger the shipments to avoid a lot of customs tax. The whole shipping process has been very pleasant.) All that was great. But during the time we were packing we had to show the apartment to possible tenants. The real estate agent would call and ask to show it right away, and I’d have to tell her I was out and wouldn’t be able to be back for another hour or two. They also had people wanting to come in and measure things so that as soon as we vacated they could start redoing the interior. (Another side note: I’m pretty sure this is why you’re not expected to clean the apartment when you leave. Most people will redo at least the wallpaper, if not the wallpaper and the floors. The next tenant in our place was redoing the floors and the kitchen sink area as well as the wallpaper. The interior company deposited bags of cement with an hour of us taking the last of our belongings out of the place.)

Our apartment transfer was at 8pm and we left the next morning. Despite having packed repeatedly and airmailed a second set of boxes on the last day, we still found ourselves with too much baggage to meet the weight restrictions. We usually ride the airport bus which stops very close to our apartment, but with this much luggage and our jeonsae money burning a hole in our pockets (the banks were closed when we received it so we couldn’t deposit it until they opened again at 9:30am) we checked in at the City Air Terminal. KC’s parents took the kids in a taxi KC and I drove our car loaded to the brim with bags. Since we were flying Asiana, we were able to check in all our bags at the Terminal before going through the immigration process there. We were lucky to get a very nice agent who let us get away some about 30 kg of extra luggage and we only ended up paying about 25,000 won. We then went to the bank at 9:30am and deposited the jeonsae (in 수표, kind of like a cashier’s check). Many people would do the transfer electronically but the new tenant’s parents are older and wanted to do things the old fashioned way. Then we rode the airport bus to Incheon airport.

KC’s parents were very sad. KC’s father has been pretty moody and 날카롭다 lately. They ended up watching the kids for most of the last few weeks while we were running around and packing. I think they were as exhausted as we were and feeling more sad about the move than we were. After 5 years of weeks filled with sword-fighting and feeding the kids their lives must seem suddenly very empty. They will visit in September while their apartment is being renovated, but we worry about how they will handle our leaving.

In the back of my mind I was worried that carrying so much luggage would get us into trouble with Chinese customs. But there too we had no problems. My dad met us at the airport, we met a driver he had arranged for us, and we headed to our new place. (Even though my dad no longer lives in Shanghai his knowledge of the place has been a great help.)

We rented our place through a Korean real estate agent. They had the keys and everything ready for us when we arrived. It’s a furnished apartment with ondol, and the phone, internet, etc. were already installed and working when we arrived. The agent took us to register at the local police station, which is required of all foreigners entering China (within 24 hours). (If you stay at a hotel they do it for you.) We made the first of many trips to Carrefour to get water, paper plates, cups, toilet paper, soap, etc. We’ve been here for about 5 days as I write this and I am already sick of Carrefour -- I’ve been there too many times -- but that first day I was so impressed. It’s like a cross between Target and Safeway, with a lot of foods I hadn’t had easy access to in Korea (oatmeal, blueberries, macaroni and cheese). The only drawback is that it doesn’t deliver, and for someone accustomed to Korean delivery systems, this is tricky indeed. We live very close by, but when you’re buying basic appliances (toaster, fan, large containers for toys, etc.) you can only carry so much. Plus the weather is really really hot.

That’s enough of an update for now, I suppose. More later on working the Korean network in Shanghai.

종합검사

2008-07-25T22:48:00.002+09:00

We've spent much of the week fixing glasses, checking teeth, and getting shots before moving onto a new medical system. The things I like to put off until the last possible minute. Anyway, the other day KC and I went for 종합검사, which I will translate as "comprehensive tests" for now. Many companies in Korea offer these tests at reduced rates as part of their health benefits; ours was through our life insurance company (though you can also take them independently if you're willing to pay full price, which wasn't nearly as high as it would be in the U.S.). Anyway, we fasted from the evening before, and showed up rather grumpy from lack of coffee at 7am to begin the testing. I would estimate there were several hundred people there around the same time trying to get the tests done before a day of work. Because many do the tests through their company medical benefits, there's a good deal of bowing to coworkers and a little bit of fun at the expense of Manager Park who is having trouble with the respiration test.

First we filled out forms which ask about personal and family medical history as well as personal habits: smoking, drinking, consumption of fruits and vegetables, frequency of exercise, etc. The we went into the dressing rooms and donned color-coded robes: pink for women and blue for men, naturally. There were green and purple robes too, but I'm not sure what those colors indicated. Perhaps they were for people doing "Silver" or "Gold" levels of testing. We stuck with the basic package.

KC had done this before but it was new for me. We spent the next 2-3 hours (2 for him, 3 for me because women do more female-specific tests) going from station to station. It was very well organized. The room is organized into areas. You start out in one area, take all the tests in that area, and then a white-clad nurse directs you to the next area. Most of the tests are done in small offices, though a few are more public (the aforementioned respiration test, the blood test, the eye test, the blood pressure test). Despite the number of people the process worked very smoothly; it was a production line. I wondered a bit about what it must be like for the people who work there to be doing the same test a thousand times a day. They are very good; practice makes perfect. Nice to have blood drawn by someone who really knows how to do it fast and relatively painlessly; I'm a wuss about stuff like that.

I can't remember all the tests, but the ones I do remember: 2 sets of x-rays, ultrasounds of all major organs and uterus, mammogram (my first since I've been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last 9 years, and can I just say WHO THE HELL CREATED THAT MACHINE?), pap smear, blood test, urine test, vision test, hearing test, heart test, something about the distribution of muscle/fat/bone, and my favorite, the one where they stick a tube down your throat and into your stomach.

So for that last test they give you the option of being awake or knocked out, and since my in-laws said it was no big deal, I chose to stay awake. Let's just say it was not fun, and it took longer because it turns out I had something in my throat. The doctor said it was probably nothing, but didn't really tell me much about it (or even what it is called) when I asked; she just said I would get the results in two weeks.

You can add tests if you like (MRI, CAT scan, etc.) for an extra charge, of course. Some of the tests I didn't really need; I had already had thorough hearing and other ear-related tests earlier this year. But, like many of my other experiences with Korean medical care, I found the process fascinating -- the efficiency of the production line setup and the way the facility is geared, logistically and economically, to the accommodation of large masses of people. If I had been living in the U.S. I would have to go to a great deal of personal effort to have all these tests and, in the absence of problematic symptoms, would probably be denied access to some of them. But if I had asked a doctor there to explain what that growth in my throat is called and what the chances are that it's cancer, I'm sure she would have spent more time with me (I'm not trying to alarm my relatives who are reading this -- I'm sure it is not cancer. The doctor did say that was unlikely.).

Korea Days

2008-07-25T22:26:00.003+09:00

A friend of mine calls me every once in a while and says, “I’ve had a Bad Korea Day.” I know what she means by this. She means that she caught a taxi to go somewhere and the driver didn’t understand her. Or she was trying to roam her phone at the airport, which she’s done a hundred times, but the rules have changed and suddenly she can’t because it’s not registered under her own name. Someone was unkind. She was annoyed by the twittering of the girls walking in the streets. She needed a new pair of shoes and nothing fit right. The bathroom didn’t have toilet paper. I’ve had these days too, I know what they’re like.

We have bad days in our home countries too, but then they’re just bad days. There’s nothing and nobody in particular to pin the blame on when frustration and anger arise from a succession of unexpectedly difficult or uncomfortable situations. And those situations aren’t exacerbated by miscommunication and cultural difference.

There’s been a discussion going around the Korea-related blogs about why ex-pat bloggers complain so much. I’m not sure that they do necessarily complain more than anyone else -- the feeling that the do may arise because people tend to read and remember sound bites and emotion-inducing rants rather than not long commentary. But this reminds me of something I had been writing (and never finished) in June. I don’t have time to edit so I’ll paste my notes in here.

Notes on being a “Korea” blogger

I began blogging about two years ago. At that point I had already lived here for three years and had built up, in my mind and heart, a collection of observations, theories, stories, and feelings about living abroad. I was just starting to assemble these into categories and attach tentative causal relations. My husband kept bugging me to write down the conversations were were having and I resisted just because I don’t like being told what to do even if the advice is good. But once I started writing things down I found the process cathartic. Writing gave me a chance to sift through, collate, and analyze what I had collected and to some extent order and unload the mental and emotional baggage.

I have become, by default, a “Korea” blogger (though not a very popular or prolific one) -- someone who blogs about “Korea.” And perhaps because my dissertation was supposed to be about late 19th and early 20th century missionaries’ production of secular knowledge (on “Korea,” on the “West,” on medicine, education, hygiene, etc.), it has always been in the back of my mind as I blogged that like the missionaries I am also engaged in knowledge production about Korea, about the U.S., about George Clooney, Bunco, and various other topics. That hasn’t stopped me from writing but it has often made me hesitate and feel uncomfortable with the process and with the label of “Korea” blogger.

I tend to blog about my experiences (rather more well-defined topics such as food, history, news, politics, teaching English, etc.), but when writing as an American living in a foreign country “experience” can be a charged category -- emotionally, politically, and socially. It is often very hard find the line between individual experience and cultural/social commentary. How significant is my individual experience (and my interpretation of it) and how much does it really speak to larger cultural or social trends?

Although the comment threads in any popular blog tend to disintegrate into “You’re an asshole,” “No you’re an asshole and an idiot,” conversations, if you can wade through all that without being sincerely disturbed about the human condition you can find a debate running about this tricky category of experience.

Let’s look at a (perhaps silly) example. A few weeks ago one of the writers in the group blog Marmot’s Hole (one of the most well-read English-language Korea blogs) blasted a piece written by Gabe Hudson in the NYT Magazine. Hudson’s piece was about living in high-tech Seoul and concluded with an incident in a restaurant in which a Korean man bothered Hudson and his Korean girlfriend while they were having dinner. The Marmot blogger commented, “Frankly, if I had a chance to contribute an article about Seoul to NYT Magazine, this probably wouldn’t be the topic I’d discuss, especially if I’d only been in country for a couple of months and knew nothing about the place, but hey, to each his own.” I quickly scanned the almost 300 comments. A good chunk are about how Hudson comes off as a prick (to say it nicely) in his article. But let’s look at the others:

1. Many comments dealt with the frequency of incidents in which interracial couples are harassed by locals. Many readers offered examples from their own experience, including amount of time spent in Korea and how often the harassment occurred. I see this as a collective assessment of how representative the situation is. One could also see this as a group effort to determine and define a sense of what Korea is like for those who don’t live here. One could also see this process as an attempt to construct a set of guidelines for what kinds of experiences count and what kinds don’t count when appealing to the label “Korea.”

2. Many comments, like the original blog post, dealt with the appropriateness of discussing this incident in NYT Magazine. If you’re given the chance to write about life in Seoul, why would you choose to write about this, to propagate this particular picture of what Korea and Koreans are like? Goes back to the process of assessment in #1 -- if the incident is representative that perhaps justifies calling attention to it in such a forum.

I suspect that some of the anger at Hudson himself has to do with the fact that he hadn’t built up any street cred in the ex-pat community. There are a good number of Korea bloggers out there, and many of them spend a lot of time and effort (as I do) picking and choosing which aspects of our lives here to discuss and not to discuss. To write for such a large audience and to do so with so little knowledge and through must seem like a slap in the face to those who have spent years developing a reputation of authority and knowledge in the blogging world.

3. Another set of comments have to do with whether these incidents are really one-sided or how much the incidents are somehow provoked by the couple in questions. These comments complicate the story and the possible conclusions. Hudson, as far as I can gather, doesn’t speak Korean and has only a recent and casual acquaintance with Korean culture and history. We don’t get the other party’s point of view, so we only assume (as Hudson did) that the other guy was mad because the relationship crossed racial lines, not because of something the couple did or said. But how trustworthy is Hudson’s account? How can we, the audience, be sure that the person describing the incident has captured all the relevant information?

4. There is a possible comparative stance that I didn’t see in my quick read but could have been easily made. Hudson alludes to it when he says that, “I should say that if I were in New York City and I saw a fellow American accosting a Korean man and his date this way, I’d want to break the American man’s face too.” These incidents happen in the U.S. too; my husband (before we met) dated a Belgian woman for several years and got harassed for it. Racism still exists in the U.S. too (isn’t that what Borat was about?) although as a society we have spent more time consciously combating it and we have more people of different colors and backgrounds to interact with on a daily basis.

This would naturally lead to the counter-argument: this is a post/blog on Korea, it doesn’t need to be comparative.

And the counter-counter-argument: that as an outsider commenting on Korea, the comparative stance is implied. Insert relevant arguments about differential power relations here.

5. That discussion may lead to the argument (made by at least one commentor) that this is racism which should always be noticed and censored. No matter what the context, shouldn’t we be vigilant and call attention to any incident, no matter how small or uncommon?

6. A reference to history: lingering anger at servicemen knocking up Korean women and abandoning them, attempting to explain the anger not as pure racism but as historically motivated. There’s a “don’t get on your high horse so quickly” kind of reminder here, which also serves to complicate any kind of emotion and make it not just rooted in the present but subject to the influences of historical consciousness. This move complicates emotion and actions in general, and also notions of responsibility on both sides. Is someone less accountable for their anger because of this history?

7. The contextualization of emotions such as anger, as well the knowledge that I blog partially to purge myself of emotional build-up, makes me think that an argument could be made about Hudson’s right to deal with this emotionally. I didn’t really see this but I can imagine the comment, “Why shouldn’t he write about something that clearly bothers him and that he has experienced?” Why should any experience be invalidated? He doesn’t claim this is universal or that Korea is a racist place, though by referring to the incident is not uncommon, as an example of a set of similar incidents, there is that sense of larger cultural criticism. The brute and angry quality of “break his face” in comparison with the rest of the piece marks the emotional significance of the incident for Hudson. He’s angry. As I would be. Does that mean it was ok for him to post in NYT Magazine, though? Which brings us back to point #2.

The vitriolic comment sections of this and any major blog underscore the emotionality of blogging. To take a more complicated example, in the discussions over the recent protests against President Lee Myung-bak and American beef (I would argue they are more about the former and not the latter), many commentors have blasted the protesters as illogical and too easily swayed by emotion. But what I found interesting is the emotion of the bloggers/commentors themselves -- the anger at the protesters, the furor at “Korean” systems and ways of thinking.

At this point the post starts to go in a different direction, but mainly I want to say this:
1. Blogging fulfills psychological needs. Hell, WRITING fills those needs. Analyze anyone's blog long enough and you can see their insecurities (as people quickly jumped on Hudson for presumed issues with his manliness or attractiveness) -- how often does the blogger assert his/her intelligence, education, knowledge, the validity of his/her experience? We write (OK, I write) to get a handle on the world around us/me, to gain a sense of control. I spend a lot of time doing it. I spend that time because I enjoy it and I need that catharsis.
2. There's a labeling issue. A "bad day" becomes a "bad Korea day." To steal a quote from my friend Emily (a psychologist, who uses examples like this all the time): "If you're getting a divorce and your mother is dying from cancer and you encounter someone who is mean, you feel furious at the mean person even though what you're really upset about is that you're getting divorced and your mom is dying." I'm not sure how she stays sane while doing that job. Being an ex-pat is much easier. But it's not easy, and it is easier to give that discomfort the name "Korea" rather than investigate more thoroughly.

Added later:
I may regret posting this and pull it down in a few hours (I have not slept much lately and am not firing on all cylinders, or whatever the metaphor is -- sleep deprivation messes up my language centers). The Korean has made the point that Korea, despite its futuristic look, has changed a great deal in the past few decades. My husband, who isn't THAT old, grew up with strict curfews, being tear gassed by riot police (accidentally, since he and his friends happened to be in the area at the time), with his mother being kidnapped and interrogated by the KIA for no good reason. I have met people who didn't realize that foreigners had the same blood types as Koreans and who really don't have much concept of what the rest of the world is like. And living in the U.S., a place which has been developed for a lot longer, I also meet people who don't know what the rest of the world is like. I've met college educated people who don't understand that Koreans and Chinese speak different languages. I would hope that we bloggers would be better ambassadors and producers of knowledge to bridge the gaps in language and experience (but as gord selller amoung others points out, most ex-pats aren't really aware of what Koreans themselves discuss).

Packing Notes

2008-07-21T09:31:00.002+09:00

I shipped 714 kg to Shanghai yesterday. It should take 4-6 weeks to arrive; shipments are being delayed because of the Olympics and stricter controls.

I also threw out a great deal of paper. I went through the two remaining boxes of my PhD stuff and saved some of the articles but I am going to dump a bunch of articles I had collected on early Korean history, on archives and the historical record in Korea, and some other random stuff that I don't think I'll read again. If there's anyone (in Korea) who wants these I will send them to you -- I spent many hours copying these articles in libraries and in the National Archives and I can't quite bring myself to just dump them even though I no longer have any use for them.

This is my last week of teaching and it is also "health week": we all have to have our final doctor and dentist appointments, vaccinations, etc. Have to stock up on medication before we leave. Aiden's now on vacation (he ended up with pretty good marks for his first semester of second grade, despite the drama) so I'm also juggling his rather full social schedule. It's his last chance to play with all his Seoul friends before we leave so I'm not going to deny him anything at this point...

I wrote this when I couldn't sleep one night. I still owe a post on gender but I need a few hours to really write it well so please wait for that.

(http://printculture.com/item-2026.html)

1. A rock climbing move last used in the college Quad came in handy: one foot on the microwave and the other wedged into the handle of the refrigerator door allowed me to open a cabinet whose contents, untouched for the last three years, were a mystery. What I found: six large stoneware plates and bowls, six heavy stainless steel napkin holders, a special device for storing and pouring cooking oil, and a set of wine charms. Apparently when I moved here I thought I would be doing a lot of entertaining.

I had uncovered artifacts of the expectations I had when I moved to Korea. Or perhaps these are remnants of a previous life in which we threw parties, collected wine, and had an expandable kitchen table. My instinct (itself bred by five years of a more streamlined, humble lifestyle) was to donate these to charity. But then I thought: maybe my life in Shanghai won’t be like it is here. We will, after all, have an actual table with chairs. How can I know in advance the shape of the next stage?

2. I tend to obsess about categories of things — books, clothes, and toys mostly — but when I dig into the job at hand I realize (again) that half of what we own isn’t categorizable. The bits and pieces are what take the most time — the random pieces of fabric or paper I’ve collected, the electronic gadgets, the drawer of stickers, the lost puzzle pieces. Packing makes me believe I can put my life into a better, more efficient order, and then quickly makes me desperate for the less efficient but serviceable order I left behind by dumping everything out.

To escape the clutter I obsess about other things. I felt compelled to separate the Lego pieces by color before packing them. This took over a day and I ended up with in a nervous tic, but it was awfully satisfying to see order prevail in that microcosm of my life. The last time my friend Emily was faced with a move her form of denial took the form of the search for a perfect runner for her hall. She’d wake up in the middle of the night to look at candidates online. If I can just get this runner, everything will be fine. If I can just put these Lego pieces in order the rest of it will all follow.

"stupid" and other clarifications

2008-07-13T21:01:00.003+09:00

I started to write a reply to Alex's comment on my last post, but it got long and convoluted and I thought I should clarify what I said about Aiden feeling "stupid" more publicly. I'm in the midst of packing and I haven't slept much and don't have time to edit this properly so my apologies in advance. (Alex: Welcome to my blog! )

Aiden's teacher never told him that he's stupid. He said that of himself because he has noticed that his Korean isn't as good as the other kids' Korean. I don't think the teacher would ever say that about him. I'm not all that happy with her as a teacher because I think she's more of a "bad cop" type teacher and that doesn't fit my parenting philosophy, but she's not really mean, just strict and not all that empathetic. My main beef with her is that she hits the kids on the hand with a ruler when they misbehave and that she doesn't give them much break time. If we were going to be around longer I might think about what recourse I have but the hitting, at least, is not that uncommon. For 2nd grade it is pretty rare, but not THAT rare, and so I don't know how effective protest would be. Some of the parents in another class have been unhappy with their teacher and they do complain to the school or to the teacher and sometimes the teacher will be fired or transfered to a different school or grade, so it is not like parents are completely powerless here.

Aiden saying that he feels stupid is complicated in ways I didn't really go into in the last post. First, he's a self conscious kid. He stands out in school because he is mixed and looks mixed. The attention he gets because of this is not negative attention -- mostly the other kids are fascinated with him and envious of his ability to speak English and opt out of hakwon. But he doesn't like to stick out so he gets flustered by that. He is also (and this is not to be underestimated) stressed out by the fact that we're moving to another country and he knows he must learn yet another language, when he feels that he is still mastering the 2 he knows now. Earlier in the year we were preparing him for school tests (to test into schools in Shanghai) and we started out preparing him for the Chinese test, which made all of us crazy so we gave it up and decided to put him in the English track. But just preparing for the English tests at the same time he was beginning a new grade, with a new teacher and a more rigorous set of expectations, was very stressful for him. It was a learning experience for all of us. In retrospect we made a lot of mistakes as parents during that time. We realized that Aiden needed to have a more consistent schedule and that we needed to spend more time with him on his Korean homework, instead of pushing English and Chinese so much so early. He's doing very well in Korean (he reads much faster than I do and his vocabulary is probably better because he is a good reader) and his English is also very good -- not as good as his peers in the U.S., but still very good. He can read Captain Underpants and some of the Magic Treehouse, but he prefers to read in Korean. His first grade teacher was the type that noted and praised him for going form 20% to 80% on his dictation test; the second grade teacher is the type that calls him to the front of the classroom during the first week of school and tells him his dictation score was not high enough so he needs to do extra homework every night (writing 10 difficult words) indefinitely. But to be fair to his 2nd grade teacher, after his dictation scores improved (which they did, dramatically, because of that extra homework), she praised him in front of the whole class. But he's the type (or perhaps it is the circumstance which renders him more thin-skinned) that is more scared and scarred by the failure than bolstered by the praise. Also, preparing him for the tests in Shanghai made him more conscious of his linguistic weaknesses (I was too much of a hard-ass in preparing him).
If I had to stay here long term, I'm not sure what kind of education I would choose for my kids. I don't like international school for many reasons: too expensive, not enough Korean, the kids tend to be priveledged and live in a bubble, etc. We moved to Korea so that the kids would be a part of this culture, not separate. But the stress of hakwon and the very competitive educational environment is really hard for the kids and it is difficult to opt out. I have been working on a follow-up to my description of first grade for several months now, but keep putting it aside because it is so hard for me to try and capture the ways in which the system is easy to criticize but also difficult to get out of. The values of the system begin to seep into your consciousness and affect the way you see the world and more than that, the way your children see themselves. Because I'm both a parent and a teacher I see it from both sides and that can be schizophrenic sometimes, but also highlights how complicated the issues are and how difficult it is to extrapolate from any individual experience. We had a great teacher in 1st grade, and perhaps because of that we were unprepared for this one, who isn't terrible, but whose particular brand of non-greatness manages to push on all the anxieties created by circumstance and personality and parenting failures and make them into something larger and scarier.

A few months ago there was a little stink in the blog world when Brian in Jeollado made some criticisms of the Marmot (criticisms I mostly agreed with) and I had intended to write something about my take on the Korea blogging world. Actually I've been working on that post for several months already. I'm not very fast, am I? But part of what I wanted to say is this: that for some reason or another the popular Korea bloggers are all men. Why that is I don't know. Sometimes I get really disgusted with the Marmot and many other blogs (not to name names) because they go from talking about the sorry state of gender relations in this country to verbally salivating over the bodies of this or that singer or model. A few other female Korea bloggers and I have lamented over this over coffee and discussed creating a group blog written only by women, but none of us really have the time it takes to make a good daily blog.

The other point I wanted to make is that the most popular blogs tend to be the daily blogs, the news blogs, the blogs which have the most definitive takes on events that are occuring. I understand the impulse to want immediate commentary and gratification, but in the main parts and in the comments there's a tendency towards quick conclusions and often quick hostility unmediated by a sense that maybe we don't know the whole story or that the solutions are not always that simple. I believe in criticism, and I read blogs to take the temperature of various social groups, but I truly admire the blogs that at least attempt to account for complexity and uncertaintly.

I will finish these posts (they will probably go up on printculture) sometime, but moving to another country is taking up all my psychological and physical energy right now.

For Alex (and anyone else in a cross-cultural marriage thinking about moving to Korea): it's not simple or easy. You have to have your goals in mind and be prepared to be flexible. But these last 5 years have been the most interesting and rewarding of my life. I do not regret any minute, and I think that this was the best risk I ever took. If you ever want to talk more specifically, send me an email: yunmay (at) gmail.com.

procrastination

2008-07-05T09:41:00.002+09:00

I am supposed to be packing. Therefore it must be a good time to update my blog!

This morning we were skyping with my mom and talking about her 4th of July plans. I asked her if she was going to eat hot dogs. Max said, "What's a hot dog?"

Aiden has not been having an easy time in 2nd grade. His teacher is scary, very strict, and not very kind. He listed the reasons he doesn't like school to me:
1. He has to sit for 4 hours.
2. His current teacher only lets them go to the bathroom once an hour. Aiden tends to go frequently and its hard for him to hold it.
3. When there's a conflict between two kids, she scolds them both instead of trying to figure out who really had bad behavior.
4. I forgot what #4 was, but there was another reason.

Then the other night he told me that he sometimes doesn't understand what the teacher says, even though everybody else seems to. He said he must be a 멍청이 -- stupid, a dullard. He said "I'm an American who can't write in English well and a Chinese person who can't speak Chinese." I tried to reassure him that he is in fact very smart and that he will have gaps in his language because he's trying to learn more than one at a time, but that he's doing fine. But I felt horrible.

On that note, I'd better get packing again.

must read

2008-07-03T06:58:00.002+09:00

H Saussy over at printculture has posted this on the erosion of civil liberties in the U.S. since 9/11, and about concepts of freedom. Please click through and read it.

I am packing and not sleeping very well again. My SeokMun master tells me perhaps I don't understand some of the Korean concepts as well as I would like and that is preventing me from relaxing. I think moving probably has more to do with it. I do find it easier to try to focus on my body but it is still hard for me to maintain focus on breathing and on creating a "dan-jeon" -- rather like trying to concentrate on my gall bladder for a half an hour. I don't even know where my gall bladder is, come to think of it.

Trying to put together some thoughts on being a "Korea" blogger, as reluctant as I am to accept the label even in a post. More sometime this week. Writing is procrastination, I suppose. In the meantime I'll update my essay list on the sidebar.

Updates continued...

2008-06-30T14:20:00.001+09:00

While my dad and I were opening bank accounts and checking out preschools KC had gone to meet some Korean students at CEIBS (China European International Business School). We had scheduled a 2:00 appointment to sign on an apartment near Pinghe in JinQiao. At 1:30 or so we were wrapping things up at Okiki and KC called to say that we needed to postpone the signing to 4; all the Koreans he had talked to were urging us to look at Lianyang again.

We had really liked Lianyang when we first looked there last October or November -- it just seemed like a vibrant, livable neighborhood, with a lot of foreigners but not just a foreigner area, and close to Century Park. But once we decided to go with Pinghe (instead of JinCai) we began looking at JinQiao for apartments because we wanted Aiden to be able to walk to school, as he does now. Long story short, we met KC back at Lianyang where a few of the Korean students helped us find a Korean real estate agent (two, actually) and we madly looked at apartments there.

We spent the next 5-6 hours looking there and meeting more Koreans through the two who accompanied us. It was the birthday of the wife of one guy and yet he still stayed with us for hours, advising us on what to look for and what to be wary of and introducing us to more people. One guy we met later has a son the same age as Aiden so I got to know a little bit about what programs are available for him: swimming, taekwondo, piano, in Korean or Chinese. He also helped us a lot with visa procedures -- I’ll probably have to write another post about this but I’m having a hell of a time getting our documents authorized in the U.S. and since the kids have two passports we’ve been going back and forth between which passport we should use for their visas, which makes a difference because of visa fees and document authorization. Anyway. They told me that language classes developed for English-speaking foreigners are about three times more expensive than Chinese classes for Koreans. These guys immediately started calling KC “hyung” and “da ge”; we were incorporated into the network right away and it was both helpful and psychologically reassuring. I could picture myself in that neighborhood, working the ajuma network, finding Korean playmates for the kids and finding about all the things I needed to find out through them. Between that group and the ShanghaiMamas I felt good about my prospects for hitting the ground running.

The Korean network feels qualitatively different and in writing this quick post (no editing, sorry) I’m trying to put my finger on why. Partially I’m sure it is because I’ve spent the last 5 years learning how to traverse the social networks here in Seoul, and I know how resourceful ajumas are and how much they rely upon word-of-mouth and the rapid spread of information to get things done. Partially it is because of the inescapable status relationships that come with the network. Because I’m coming from Seoul and I am a native English speaker I kind of know where I will fall in that network (many are coming to China with the goal of having their kids learn English -- they want to escape the Korean school system but can’t go to the U.S. or Canada).

The other big difference is that many of the Koreans are their on their own dime, as we are. Reading the English language ex-pat forums yield a lot of useful information but skewed towards people who are there on a fat package, with housing allowances, moving allowances, and often drivers. We are paying for all of this out of our own pockets so what we’re looking for is pretty different. Reading the Korean forums (I leave this to KC, mostly) on schools and neighborhoods has been really helpful. In any case, I feel lucky to have a number of different networks to fall back upon, and really grateful to all of those who have helped us out so far.

Anyway, at around 6pm we decided to make an offer on one apartment. It was in a complex that seemed great for families and the family with the kid Aiden’s age lives in the same complex. The students urged us to look at Yanlord Town too, although it was out of our budget. So we went for a quick look; it was a Tower Palace kind of feel, lots of marble, security codes for the elevators, that sort of thing. Not our style, but it was fun to look at. After looking in one building we descended to the parking garage to take a golf cart (there are men waiting to shuttle people from place to place in the parking garage) to another building on the other side of the complex. They have a car wash, playground, and swimming pool underground, which is why it is very attractive to people with families.

One of the things real estate agents told us to consider is who owns the apartment. Our first agent is from Shanghai and she urged us towards one apartment and not another because the owner of one was “not a Shanghai person, but living in Shanghai” and the owner of the other was “not a Shanghai person, and not living in Shanghai.” I forgot where that owner was from, but she said in case of problems, it might be hard to get the owner to respond.

The two apartments we ended up bidding on in Lianyang were both owned by Koreans living in Shanghai, which will good if we have any problems. Both apartments are ondol apartments -- that is, they both have heated floors. You know there are a lot of Koreans in the area when you can easily find an ondol apartment. Since we sleep on the floor this was important to us; also many people commented that because buildings are built more cheaply the wind and cold really come through the walls in the winter. Ondol apartments are more expensive but it was worth it for us.
The first apartment we bid on in Lianyang had beautiful interior decoration, including a bed built into a wall unit with night tables. This was the big issue, since we needed the bed taken out so that we could sleep on the floor. (We’re renting a furnished apartment.) The owner came and we debated about this until about 9pm, when we finally got to have dinner. It came down to the bed problem; because it was built to his specification it would be too hard to remove, he felt. We could certainly understand that.

The next day KC played golf with Dad while I went with Dad’s friend Annie to deposit 2 suitcases loaded with fall clothes, a few pans, some utensils, and books in their Marriott storage unit. It was nice to be back in Dad’s old stomping grounds, though they tell me the Marriott is losing a lot of business because of all the visa restrictions. Both suitcases were well over 15 years old and on their last legs but I hadn’t had time to repack the stuff into boxes so that I could take the suitcases back with me. We decided to go and buy 2 more cheap suitcases. We had just about finished that when KC called to tell me that the owner had talked with his interior design company and said the bed was not possible to disassemble in any easy way.

So after a quick but delicious lunch at Crystal Jade we went back to Lianyang to look at our second choice, which, upon further reflection, was probably a better choice. Different apartment complex, better floor plan, ugly furniture, but no bed in the master bedroom, just a mattress which the owner is happy to move to the guest room. Good thing again for my dad and his driver since we had to coordinate getting my dad to his 5:00 flight from Pudong while we had a 6:00 from Hongqiao. We were to leave at 4; at 4:05 the owner verbally agreed on the phone, we left the real estate agent with all the remaining cash we had and we hopped in the van and took off for the airport. We were at the gate by 5pm. I love Hongqiao airport. Since we’ve been back we’ve signed the final papers by fax. We’re set to move in on July 31. Mission accomplished; as Emily would say it was a “typical Jen and KC trip: a lot of running around, everything finished at the last minute.” Except that we usually eat a lot better -- we barely fit three meals in each day between the 12 hours of walking around and hopping into taxis. Now I just have to pack.

updates

2008-06-27T16:15:00.003+09:00

The past six months or so have been hectic ones as we figured out whether we’d be able to move this year or not. Although we’ve made several trips back and forth to Shanghai I was reluctant to say too much without knowing for sure whether we’d move. But as of now everything is set: we plan to relocate to Shanghai on July 31st.

KC and I took a whirwind trip last week to finalize the apartment and schools. Since I never did write a summary of our April trip, here is what happened in brief:

Aiden tested at 3 schools: SMIC, Pinghe, and JinCai. SMIC is a school originally built for SMIC employees but now open to other students. It has both Chinese and English tracks. Its location is not ideal, kind of in the middle of nowhere. Both Pinghe and JinCai are Chinese private schools with international sections. In the months preceding the testing we thought we would have Aiden try to test into the Chinese tracks of these schools, but after ordering textbooks from Shanghai (you can do many things on the internet) we decided that was crazy and we were stressing Aiden out too much trying to prepare him in 3 languages, especially since he had just begun 2nd grade with a rather difficult and scary teacher here. We shifted to English preparation, which was more difficult than I anticipated. His math ability is above his grade level (he can do long division) but he does math in Korean. I hadn’t thought clearly about how much vocabulary he would have to know just to be able to solve math problems in English: product, sum, difference, greater than, less than, etc. Not to mention having to develop a grasp of non-metric measurements and American money (since they use American textbooks).

Although Aiden’s reading, speaking, and listening levels are all good his writing is not. His spelling is atrocious and he had never written anything close to an essay in English. We did a lot of preparation for that, on top of his school homework. For several months he was doing 2-3 hours of homework a night. It was not easy. (You see why I neglected my blog...)

Since the Korean school year starts in March but the Chinese school year, like the American one, goes September - June, we had to decide whether to put Aiden in 3rd grade (like his peers in the U.S.) or put him into 2nd grade. He will finish out the first half of 2nd grade here before we move. We decided pretty easily to put him into 2nd grade. I'm not in a hurry to advance him and especially with all the languages he's learning I'd rather he have some extra time to get familiar with the material.

Anyway, the tests went really well: he had 1.5 hour tests at SMIC and Pinghe and a long interview at JinCai. I have to say that I was very frustrated by the process because SMIC in particular was so unresponsive: they didn’t respond to emails, didn’t answer phone calls, and didn’t answer my questions, plus they were incredibly rigid about test dates. Since we had to fly from Korea to test I was quite unhappy about that. Micah Sittig, a teacher there and China-blogger, was very generous with help and advice about SMIC. Aiden passed the test there but was wait-listed because they don’t have room for him. While he was testing we looked at apartments in the area. The apartments were fine but we didn’t love the area, and there wasn’t any space in SMIC kindergarten for Max.

Next was Pinghe. I scheduled Aiden’s test for 9am on Friday morning, which was, in retrospect, a lucky thing. Pinghe had been quite responsive via email but told me several times they only had 1-2 spaces available so it was unlikely he would be admitted. Anyway, while Aiden tested we chatted up the Admissions Director who seems quite friendly, efficient, and well-organized, but doesn’t speak any English. My Chinese was put to the test. When she left the room at one point KC said, “Make sure you put on the application form that we both went to Stanford. This is Asia, those things matter.” I did add that information, but I also got to put that information into the conversation since the director mentioned that they had students attending Princeton and Stanford. Who knows if that’s what got him in, but he got in. I must have lived in Asia a long time to be pulling out my Stanford degree as leverage. But by 10:00 there was a line of people out the door waiting to talk to the director and get their kids in the school (the non-international section). In general we were impressed with Pinghe -- the school itself, with its lines of students and atmosphere felt like a Korean school. For someone coming from the States it probably would have felt very foreign but we liked it. We also liked that the international and regular students all take classes on the same campus. We felt that with a small international class Aiden would have a good chance to bond with his classmates but because they are housed in the same location he would also have more opportunity to speak Chinese while playing soccer or swimming (they have a swimming pool, another plus). Plus we liked the location. We looked at a lot of apartments in the area too, and found one we liked.
That afternoon we went to JinCai. The facility is nice and Ellen Huang, the principal, was the most helpful and personable during the whole process. Aiden really took a shine to her. I had been worried that he wouldn’t interview well because he tends to be shy, but he talked to her so much we had to tell him to stop talking so that we could ask her questions. JinCai’s location is the best -- in Lianyang area, which we love, but we didn’t like that the international and regular schools are located on separate campuses, and international program seems like it’s still finding its legs.

In short, we decided to go with Pinghe. Aiden got a great deal of praise and a few presents for his excellent performance during the whole process, which was not just stressful for him but for us as well. We had to have a few Mommy-Daddy conferences in which we rearranged his schedule and tried to find ways to balance out his responsibilities and make enough time for him to play and relax. After testing we have scaled back on a lot of the extra studying -- he’s doing almost no Chinese right now, and very little English. Right now he needs to focus on Korean; the other two he will pick up when we move. That probably sounds a little chaotic and crazy but it is more well thought out then I am capturing here. At least I hope so.

One interesting thing about China is that it seems like it is still primarily a cash society. At least, I had to pay Pinghe in person, in cash, which required another trip -- they don’t accept wire transfer. They were flexible with the dates, which was nice, but carrying a thick wad of RMB across the ocean was a little weird. We took the chance to look at apartments too. After the first day we were ready to sign on a place near Pinghe (5 minute walk) but we were thrown into a panic because we couldn’t find a place for Max. I had had trouble getting ahold of schools by phone and email and by the time we arrived in person most schools were closed for the summer and all the spots were filled. We tried to visit local schools but were informed that not all local schools can take international students -- only the ones given a special fee schedule for foreigners by the government. If we couldn’t find a place for Max we’d have to rethink the move. My dad had come back to help us on this trip, allowing us to use his old driver and his language skills, and that was invaluable. But by Thursday evening we (especially me, since I had dropped the ball on preschools) were feeling awful, wondering if we’d be able to move at all. It was a sleepless night.

Friday morning I had some gotten some responses from the ShanghaiMamas mailing list, giving me some great leads on preschools. I went to pay Pinghe in cash and my Dad again helped a lot with translations about visas, which is going to be a problem because of the recent visa issues with the government. They asked us to open a bank account through which to pay school fees, and again my dad was a big help.

I had heard from one school, a little farther than I had wanted to look, but they had one opening. So after going to Pinghe again to give them my new bank account information I went directly to the school with no appointment. The school, Okiki, has a surprisingly nice facility with indoor and outdoor playgrounds, and I like the bilingual structure of the classes. Like at FYKO, each class has two teachers, one English-speaking and one Chinese. The school day is a little longer than I would like (the kids take a nap there), Max would have to take a bus to school (which he does now, but I was hoping for a walkable distance), and it is not cheap. But I liked the teacher and the administrators and they were very accommodating so I took the spot.

To be continued...

Just Breathe

2008-06-27T16:14:00.000+09:00

Also at: http://www.printculture.com/index.php?itemid=1991

I’m starting to really panic about moving. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering the toughest moments of the adjustment to life in Seoul and blowing them up into imaginary future catastrophes.

Anyway, my husband has been studying a kind of breathing technique called “Seokmun Breathing Meditation” (석문호흡) for about eighteen months now. He started, not because of some deep interest in breathing or in the idea of storing and moving his qi, but because he noticed that after a heavy night of drinking the only person who could get up for a early round of golf (besides him) was a guy who does SeokMoon breathing. K is already a pretty strong, healthy person, but we both noticed a difference within six months or so: he seemed to have a healthy glow, his skin looks great, he sleeps really well, he’s able to handle stress better, and he feels healthier. Despite all that the party pooper in me resisted joining. But with less than two months left and the insomnia becoming increasingly debilitating I thought, What the hell.

I don’t have time (or the inclination at this moment) to write anything long, serious, or detailed about this school of breathing; what follows are just my notes and impressions from the first week.

There are fifteen stages to Seokmun Breathing Meditation. The first stage is called Wa-sik Su-ryeon (와식 수련) and involves learning how to breathe in a prone posture in order to create a Dan-jeon (단전), which, the book explains, is like a pitcher that holds qi. The Dan-jeon created in this stage is located about two finger widths below one’s belly button (but inside the body). After a series of warm-up exercises (stretching and kicking) we go through a series of eleven positions, called Haeng-gong (행공), for two minutes each. Some are easy; the first involves lying on the floor, arms at a 45-degree angle and palms up, legs no more than a shoulder width apart. Some are hard. The hardest one for me is number 8, pictured above. I can hold it for about a minute now and that’s taken a week or so. After Haeng-gong we lie in the first position for quite a long time and breathe. Many people fall asleep (though I have not yet). After than we do Hoe-geon-sul (회건술) which are sort of recovery exercises.

While doing each Haeng-gong position we’re supposed to focus on that spot below the belly button and imagine qi flowing like water towards that spot. We’re also supposed to focus on the breathing. The master says to relax the body and the consciousness; the body I can deal with but the consciousness part I find very difficult.

The first day the master evaluated my qi and put a small patch on the area where the Dan-jeon is supposed to be. He told me my qi is strong but very disorganized, which sounds about right. When I’m lying there trying to relax my thoughts are running a mile a minute, helter skelter, in all directions. I’m thinking about things I need to do, people I need to call or email. I’m calculating how much more time I need to hold the position. I’m timing the rest of my day, wondering if I should take the bus or a tax to my next destination. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to write in this post and the other posts I’ve been working on. I’m thinking about what to have for lunch. I’m wondering how long it will take for my skin to look better. I also catch myself wanting to outperform the others in the class and impress the instructor. Every few seconds I try to place my focus back on the Dan-jeon but then I start thinking about how weird it is to try to focus on a part of the body that I can’t feel. When I do focus on that spot, it feels like I’m sensing the body from the outside, not the inside. I have a mental picture of where it is but it doesn’t really correspond to the physical reality. Even my legs — a part of the body I’m more familiar with — are hard to feel when they are completely relaxed and not in pain. Without the sensory stimulation they become invisible to my consciousness.

I realized at one point that even though I’m not a particularly verbal person my thoughts are very verbal. I talk to myself a lot, automatically evaluating and analyzing things as if I’m going to write a blog post about them. I wonder if I was like that before blogging. It was too hard to replace the worded thoughts with a focus on some physical area which I cannot really perceive so I started repeating nonsense syllables (“om”) to shut out the mental chatter. That has helped.

So far all I can really say is this: I have been sleeping better. I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night but it is easier for me to push the panicky thoughts away. Perhaps somewhere down the line I’ll have more insight into the ways in which this practice affects my sense of the body, of consciousness, and of the relationships between mental and physical health, but for now being able to get a little more sleep is enough.

Goodbye, Seoul. And thank you.

2008-06-27T16:06:00.002+09:00

I've decided to cross-post my printculture blogs, since some people don't click through. You can click here for the printculture version (the same for now, but sometimes I do after-post editing).

For a few years now we’ve had this bedtime ritual: we take turns saying five things we’re thankful for. As I sat down to write this I couldn’t remember why we began the practice; but looking back at my old blogs I see that it was a response to W’s increasing desire for the things (and brands) his friends had. I wanted to take some time each day to acknowledge and appreciate what we already had. His first list (made while in the bathroom brushing our teeth):

1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. the toilet
4. the bathtub
5. his World Cup soccer ball

It is interesting to compare his lists from then and now. While I try to mix mine up every day he has developed a long litany that always includes God, Jesus, Buddha, Confucius, Earth, Star Wars, and his Nintendo Game Cube — got to cover all the bases, I suppose.

I wrote in my blog at the time about how hard it was to hold onto a feeling of thankfulness. Gratitude is often fleeting; the day seems to revolve not around appreciation but desire — what I want to do, to have, to eat, to feel. Even when we take time to name the things for which we are grateful it is hard to summon a deep emotional tribute to that which has become a normal, and thus largely invisible, part of life.

However, this ritual began at a moment in time in which the feeling of thankfulness was palpable and strong. We had been living in Seoul for about three years and I was just reaching the point of comfort. Around the year or two-year mark anxiety had been replaced with a feeling of relief whenever I could get through the day without serious misunderstanding or frustration, but by three years I had begun to really enjoy my life here. The glee that I felt being able to navigate certain procedures and social situations was accompanied by a feeling of pride in myself and a dawning comprehension of the way things worked. I had developed an instinct for Seoul, and in its early, fetal stages I wanted to hold onto and savor it, even show it off. (This explains why I began blogging at around the same time.) The bedtime ritual was as much for me as it was for W — a way of consciously inhabiting and extending a moment in time in which I could truly feel gratitude.

And now I’m getting ready to leave, and although I have barely begun to pack, feelings of thankfulness have emerged again, much sharper this time because of the accompanying sense of loss. From the mindset of planning, another move seemed like a good, logical idea, a way of opening more doors. But as the countdown has hit the one month mark I think not about what we will gain but about all that we will give up by leaving.

Although they have been the source of a great deal of hand-wringing and hair-pulling (as I’m sure I have been the source of the same for them), I’m thankful for my in-laws who have helped us enormously since we’ve been here. I’m thankful to have had a place to drop the kids on Sunday afternoon so that my husband and I could catch up on Battlestar Galactica, knowing they would be well-loved, well-fed, and possibly well-spoiled. It’s taken five years to learn how to avoid fighting with them but the bond that has developed between them and the kids is irreplaceable and could not have developed in several decades of living in different countries or cities. They have been a part of our daily life here, permanently woven into the children’s early memories.

I’m thankful for our apartment and neighborhood. Our apartment looks rather humble and small, but it has heated floors and lots of sunlight. I like being able to hear kids playing in the playground out front and walking to school past the back windows. I like the open halls in which I run into our neighbors. I appreciate the proximity to my in-laws’ place, the airport bus stop, the subway, restaurants, cafes, grocery stores, and banks. I like not living in a fortress and yet feeling safe — a part of the neighborhood rather than separate from it.

I’m thankful for my kids’ schools and teachers.. W counts his piano teacher as the adult he is the closest to after Mommy and Daddy. I will really miss M’s bilingual preschool (which W also attended), where the teachers spent a great deal of time holding M as he developed comfort with the place, allowing him to emerge as an loquacious, cake-loving charmer.

I’m thankful for the network of busy moms who have patiently explained to me that oil paper is tracing paper and sent me scanned copies of textbook pages when W has left his book at school.

I’m thankful for store workers that answer all my questions about what ingredients I need to buy for japchae and what size origami paper a 2nd grader needs to carry, who bow and smile to me when I encounter them on the sidewalk or the bus stop, and who ask me where I’ve been if they haven’t seen me in a while.

I’m thankful for my friends, American and Korean, who have put in the time and effort to build a friendship despite my continuing proclamations that we would leave “soon.”

I’m thankful for the city of Seoul (despite its often unpleasant smells), for its neighborhoods, safe atmosphere, and great public transportation. I’m thankful for an economic system that depends on volume, in which anything and everything can be delivered and goods ordered on the internet arrive within a day or two.

Despite being stared at I’m thankful that being an English-speaking foreigner mostly triggers envy and not disgust or anger.

I’m thankful for public baths.

I’m thankful for kimbab, bibimnaengmyeon, and galbitang. I’m thankful for neighborhood cafes, where I wrote most of my posts and spent a lot of money on coffee.

Goodbye Seoul. I’m glad I made a home here. I’m coming away with an expanded sense of what the good life might look like, and I won’t forget it. While I finalize details for our new apartment and schools, that sense of thankfulness becomes desire again as I try to find ways to fill the next stage of the journey with that which I appreciate in my life now.

Travel books

2008-06-14T12:24:00.002+09:00

Couldn't finish my post in time so posted a piece on travel books written last year.

TWK 3, a quick note on customer service.

2008-06-07T11:31:00.002+09:00

The third in the Traveling with Kids series.

And... a note on customer service here in Seoul.
Tuesday morning I dropped my phone, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence, but this time when I picked it up it was dead. It was a bad, hurried morning. I transfered the number to my old phone which has an unfortunate tendency to reboot over and over again, and considered my options. We’ll move in two months, no reason to buy a new phone. I could keep using the old one, but the rebooting is a pain and I would have to reenter all my phone numbers, which weren’t backed up.

Long story short, I took the phone to the Samsung customer service center, which turned out not to be very far from my apartment -- maybe a 10 minute taxi ride. They took my phone and maybe a half an hour later an engineer sadly informed me that I had destroyed two components, one of which they had in stock and one of which they would have to get from another service center. It wouldn’t be ready until late that day or the next morning. (It was about noon at that point.) I almost laughed -- I hadn’t expected to get it back so soon. Anyway, I picked up the phone the next morning, good as new.

Late last year I ordered an LG humidifier from a auction site. It arrived the next day, it worked for about 5 minutes and then quit. I thought, Shit, I don’t know how to return things bought via auction -- this had never happened before. KC called LG and a technician came out to my apartment about 40 minutes later. He tried to fix the humidifier but the board was broken, so he apologized, took the board, and told me he’d come back the next day with a new one. The next day he tried yet another one, but it also didn’t work. He apologized again and told me they would refund the money if I gave them a copy of the receipt and my bank account. Within two days the amount I had paid in the auction was refunded to my bank account.

After that I thought, “Well, I still need a humidifier and the LG one is the most popular, so I’ll order it again.” I ordered the same humidifier, again from an auction site, and this one worked for about 2 weeks before breaking. I called LG customer service again, and again a technician came about 40 minutes later. This time he took part of the humidifier and returned it the next day and it was worked fine since.

This is why people buy things from chaebols like LG and Samsung. Who can compete with that kind of service? You go to the Samsung customer service center and the people who work there are so polite and so proud of themselves for working for Samsung. The place is bursting with pride. It is a part of life here that is hard to imagine from living in the States.

I'll miss that customer service when we move to China.

TWK

2008-06-04T06:25:00.001+09:00

Traveling with Kids 2 is up. Still jet-lagged.

Traveling with Kids

2008-05-28T14:39:00.002+09:00

Here's the first in the series I've been meaning to write for a few years....
Not as good as I would like but it's a start.
Recovering from jet-lag right now.

I feel like I'm on crazy pills

2008-05-14T15:28:00.001+09:00

It's been a crazy few weeks of birthday parties and a lot of stuff. I have to put off a long update again.
A few posts over at printculture:
Collectivities
The Translator

trips to the grave

2008-04-15T09:14:00.000+09:00

My latest printculture post.

More on our Shanghai trip later.

Traffic Cop

2008-04-04T23:33:00.003+09:00

I guess the stress has made me overly emotional lately. I've started to become a vigilante.

In front of Aiden's school there's a very busy intersection that the kids have to cross. In the morning the "Green Moms" guard the crosswalks, but in the afternoon there aren't any guards. The immediate area has three schools very close together (elementary, middle, and high school) so you'd think that drivers would be careful, but they are not. I have already found myself shaking my fist and yelling at people for being careless in the streets around that area. Anyway, yesterday I waiting on the other side of the street (across from the school) as I always do, and watched the crosswalk light turn green and two girls proceed to cross. Then I saw a man, completely oblivious, driving through the intersection -- slowly, but without looking at all. I threw myself in front of the car and he stopped, startled. I started waving my arms, pointing to the two girls and the school. He held up his hand, like "sorry, my bad," but I just swatted my hand at him in disgust and stomped away. There were a few other nannys and moms on the sidewalk, so when I came back later with Aiden some of the kids were saying, "Aiden's mom, you were really angry, huh!" Stuff like that spreads fast.

Then today, I was crossing the street with Max and there was a series of cars parked on the side of the road, and a bunch of people campaigning for one of the candidates (#2, I forgot his name). (We have elections next week, and the candidates line up and blast all sorts of noisy messages all over the place.) I was grumbling to myself because they parked their cars ILLEGALLY on the side of the road, in an area where people often thoughtlessly park, causing all sorts of traffic problems in our already congested area, and making it difficult to walk safely. So I went up to the group of tee-shirted supporters and said, "Why is a law-maker parking ILLEGALLY?" One woman just smiled and said, "I understand." But I was mad, so I went on. "Do you understand that you're making it very difficult for all these people over here [gesturing to all the cars trying to enter that street] by parking there? Do you understand how dangerous that is? This kind of thing makes me angry, really really angry!" She just kept nodding and smiling (a bit nervously) and saying, "I understand, I understand," while backing away from me. I huffed away.

I'm going to start slashing tires next.

Second grade woes, city assholes

2008-04-04T23:06:00.003+09:00

I've been writing blog posts in my head but not on the computer lately. Haven't had much time to sit down and type, and the mental piles of post-it notes keep getting mixed up and covered up by new notes.

We're going to Shanghai next week to visit schools, though, so maybe things will calm down after that. Right now Aiden's under a lot of pressure to keep up with this school work (I will have more to say about that later), plus his English, since he has to test in English to enter the new school. That was harder than I anticipated. His speaking and listening ability is fine for everyday life, but his writing is poor, particularly his spelling. But on top of that he had to relearn a lot of skills in English. He does math every day, for instance, but in Korean, so we had to switch him to an English math word problem book. (The English-language workbooks are not as good quality as the Korean ones, I have to say. At least I haven't found one that I really like.) He had to learn vocab like greater than, less than, volume, mass, etc. and all the American units of measurement, as well as American money. That's a lot to cover in a short time. He also had to do a lot more writing. We ended up dropping Chinese, at least for now (he went from 3 classes + home practice everyday to one class a week currently). I decreased his schedule and he's still doing about 3 hours of homework every day. Much of that is his school homework. I will probably write more about this whole thing at some point, but in short, it's been a really stressful few months. And we're only in second grade!

Over at printculture, here's my latest post on City Assholes.

odds and ends

2008-03-13T07:22:00.002+09:00

Learning Chinese in Korea, a plug for the blog Strange Maps, and a rant on the movie Because I Said So.

No time for anything else these days; too busy being sick and doing elementary school applications for Aiden. Who knew those things would be so complicated?

bath and body works

2008-02-24T08:54:00.003+09:00

I had been thinking about writing something on the public bath for a while, and was impressed with the way this piece thought through the social meanings of hesitation. So when I wrote "At the public bath" it was with the intention of thinking through the meanings of rituals of the body. But as usual I hate the things I write right after I post them. If I didn't have a deadline I probably wouldn't post anything at all.

A little self-promotion

2008-02-22T21:20:00.003+09:00

I am in the midst of writing my post for today and procrastinating by exchanging e-mail with Sandra, who asked me if I am the Jennifer Lee who translated her son's textbook, Korean made easy for beginners by Seung-Eun Oh. I've written before about the number of Jennifer Lees running around in the world but in this case that Jennifer Lee is in fact me. Seung-Eun Oh teaches at Sogang Univ in the Korean language program there and taught both Sandra and I. (Me- 5 years ago, Sandra - more recently) She's a great teacher. Anyway, that was my first translating job and I found it so difficult and time consuming that I've mostly erased it from my mind. But when Sandra mentioned it I went back and looked at the book and (even if the translation is not stellar -- you be the judge) it is a good textbook. So if you're looking for a good beginning Korean textbook, check it out.

6 month countdown

2008-02-18T22:59:00.002+09:00

Been meaning to update the blog for a while but I've been busy. And still dizzy. And Aiden is on vacation AGAIN. What's up with that? They were off from late December to late January. Then they went to school for about a week and a half and got off again for the Lunar New Year. Then they went back to school for a week and now they're off again until the beginning of March, when the new school year starts. This school schedule is crazy. How do working parents manage it? If the vacation was all together I could have him go to camp or we could travel, but right now I've got him underfoot for two weeks while I try to maintain my own class schedule.

My Chinese classes are going well. I don't have much time to study but I am starting to think of words without as much effort and I feel like I've made some sort of breakthrough which is hard to describe. I can talk a little bit now without it feeling like a massacre of the tongue. I'm still slaughtering tones right and left but my newest teacher (they change every once in a while, which is always disconcerting because new people favor different words and it takes some time to get used to) told me I speak 标准 which is, I gather, a compliment. I should move up to the next level （高级) next month, and I'd like to add an HSK class too, but it looks like in second grade they still finish very early. Hmmm. Have to think about that. The electronic Chinese-English dictionary I bought in China last year broke so I had to buy a new one. The Sharp Korean-English dictionary I have had for the last 6 years or so has held up so well I almost bought another Sharp. (I actually put that thing through the laundry once and after it dried out it still worked perfectly. I love that dictionary.) But for Chinese AOne is supposed to be better, so I bought a Chinese-Korean/Korean-Chinese/Japanese-Korean/Korean-Japanese/Korean-English/English-Korean electronic dictionary for about US$120. So far I really like it, though I wish I could go directly from Chinese to English. But I'm having less trouble going from Chinese to Korean and vice versa these days, I must have gotten used to it in the last 5 months or so of taking Chinese with a Korean textbook.

We've been saying this for the last 4 years, but I think this is really the year that we'll move. We have about 6 months left. We've been spending a lot of time looking at apartments and schools online. I'm so thankful that KC can read through all the netizen commentary so quickly, because having the Korean sources of information about housing and schools has been really useful. Most English-speaking expats in Shanghai are on a fat budget but we are not. We're looking to live in a small apartment for not too much money, and we have to pay for our children's schooling ourselves. Plus we'd like to live near a lot of Koreans so that the kids can maintain their Korean socially.

In preparing to move I'm trying to strengthen our daily rituals at home. I think I'll write more about that later. I'm also compiling a "Life in Seoul" book for the kids to document our time here. I already make travel books for each trip we take, but this will be something different and it will take me several months to make.

I'm also trying to pare down our belongings once again, by eating up all the stuff in our kitchen, throwing away old clothes and toys, and figuring out what we'll take and what we'll ship back to the States.

Anyway, I have been holding up my end over at printculture though the results of my weekly posting are not always pretty. There are a few posts I would like to delete from my conscious memory. In case you missed these, I've written a series of 3 posts on signs in Seoul:

Reading the Signs
Reading the Signs 2
Reading the Signs 3
(The third one was not as well formed as I would like but its hard to write every week...)

I also had this short thing on cell phones.

Now I have to figure out what to write for this week... hmm...

My mornings

2008-01-30T22:23:00.000+09:00

Lately Max transforms into a grunting worm called "Jackbuh" who doesn't listen very well. But Aiden can make Jackbuh transform into a well-behaving worm named "Obi" or a nice frog named "Crackers" (or occasionally a kitty cat named "Helloah"). And from there he can transform back into Max. Getting ready in the morning is very complicated because I have to keep track of all these creatures; they won't listen unless I address them by the correct name, and only Aiden can reliably get Jackbuh to go through the stages of transforming into Max who can then brush his teeth or put on his clothes. Because hello! Animals don't brush their teeth or wear clothes!

It's a miracle we ever leave the house.

After waiting several weeks for an appointment I went to Vertigo Clinic at Samsung Medical Center this morning. I've never been to any of the big hospitals here (I delivered at Cha hospital which is much smaller) so it was an experience. The Ear Nose and Throat practice is in the new Cancer Center which is pretty fancy. Like Cha, everything is broken down into different functions and areas: check in in one place, wait in another, one nurse takes my history and enters it into the computer, then wait in another area, then the doctor sees me briefly, then another dr./nurse performs some tests, back to the waiting area, back to the Dr. who reviews the results, down to the special desk for making appointments for further tests (but no MRI, which is a relief, since I wasn't sure I could afford it), then to a consultation area with a person who teaches me to do special "exercises" to quicken the departure of the troublesome rocks in my ears, then out to the cashier to pay. All that in less than 1.5 hours.

My next tests are next week, then I have to wait until the 20th to see the doctor for the results. Since I'm not having many problems now I'm ok with waiting, but I wonder what would happen if my problems were more severe. Would I still have to wait so long?

Anyway, I can't predict a return to blogging quite yet because I'm still so tired all the time. But I have to post at printculture every Friday, so look for me there.

Lies I tell my kids

2008-01-19T23:28:00.000+09:00

Lies I tell my kids is up over at printculture.We've gone back to the old format (more 'zine, less blog) so be sure to check out the other contributers' posts as well. Getting back to writing long posts (and more frequently) is hard but it is worth it to get to read what everyone else comes up with. I missed those guys.

I haven't been able to keep up the blog lately, just too much going on. The last 3 months or so I keep having recurring attacks of vertigo (probably just benign positional vertigo) which are pretty miserable. At worst, they last about 36 hours during which every time I move the room spins and I throw up. Sometimes, though, there are no symptoms at all. Last week I walked around looking like a drunk for about 5 days because I was constantly dizzy. I can't drive or exercise. All this makes me really tired.
The symptoms suck but there's probably nothing serious behind it, and for that I'm grateful.

Vernacular Modernism

2007-12-16T09:58:00.000+09:00

I was writing a message to someone the other day and said, "December feels like spinning on a roulette wheel." This week I sort of participated in my first kimjang (though I really showed up after my mother-in-law had done most of the work), Aiden took his second-degree black-belt test at kukiwon, KC had his company holiday party, Max's school called to tell me he has the chicken pox (I rushed there to pick him up and take him to the doctor but it was a false alarm, just a bad case of the hives).

So although I already posted this photo essay, I was behind and got it out quickly (which is why it reads a little haltingly) and realized belatedly I should have scouted around for more Seoul pictures. So if anyone has any shots of modern buildings which include traditional elements (images, roofs, etc.) that you don't mind sharing, drop me an e-mail at yunmay (at) gmail(dot)com. Thanks!

long overdue

2007-12-10T22:40:00.000+09:00

Well, this post is long overdue. I’ve taken a little break from my own blog, shame on me. I have written a few hurried and harried things for printculture: Weekend Thoughts, Manhwa (on my son’s cartoon habits -- features bad cartoons drawn by yours truly!), Consumer Thoughts, and Vernacular Modernism?. None are as well-written or well-edited as I would like (if you notice any errors let me know, editing is not a strength of mine, especially when medicated). But the last couple months have not been good for writing. I upped my teaching load, and while I enjoy teaching, it takes a lot of time and energy. I’m also still taking Chinese and looked (briefly) into taking French as well (more on the languages later). KC and I went to Shanghai twice without the kids -- our first times traveling without them -- which went really well, though we missed them a lot. And we’ve had a series of illnesses (everyone except Aiden, who is healthy like an ox), which have sapped my strength. If anyone has had experience with severe vertigo (recurring episodes when you feel like the room is spinning which makes you vomit, lasting for a day or two) let me know.

Saturday night the kids, my mom, and I went to a little blogger get-together hosted by Cat and Miguknamja from Seoullife where I got to reunite with Sandra from hereinkorea and meet Joe and Eun Jeong of ZenKimchi fame and Daniel of Epicourageous in Seoul. We had a great time. I haven’t been to any other blogger get-togethers; it is hard for me to get out at night, especially to the other side of the river, and was out of town for Seoul Man Jon’s meet-up over the summer. Also it was a rather long week, and I had lost a few pounds through illness so it was great to have an evening of indulging in the creations of foodies Joe and Daniel.

So although I was already feeling guilty over my long blogging absence, I felt even worse seeing all these other busy people who somehow are able to stay on top of their blogs.

I have really been enjoying Sandra's posts on learning Korean over the past few months, and I've been meaning to write more about learning Chinese. Other than when someone is sick (I missed 2 weeks of class when Max was sick) I am fairly consistent about attending class, unlike the other students, but I don't have much time to study at home and it is a kick my personal vanity to see that they are still better than I am (in my defense, they've all lived in China at some point). Studying Chinese characters from a young age also gives them a huge advantage. The other day we encountered "目的地” in a text and I didn't know what it meant. The teacher said, "목적지" and I thought, aha! So that's where that word comes from. The Koreans in the class (had they come to class that day...) would have known right away what that meant.

Two trips ago my father wasn't around so I had to bumble my way through restaurants with my poor mandarin. I did have an hour long conversation with a masseuse which went well, but conversations, I realize, are often much easier. You can go around the topics you can't talk about, you can partially control the flow of the conversation, and no one is in a hurry. When you're in a restaurant or store and need something done it is both embarrassing and difficult when you can't find the words, and people don't have that much patience to wait through frantic use of the electronic dictionary.

But this last trip I also realized how much of language learning is guerrilla learning. I was able to (thankfully) follow my father around and listen to what he said. When we needed to add water to the teapot I didn't know what verb to use -- put? add? give more? I used "put" and the waitress understood but I knew it wasn't right. My father used add ("加") which I immediately understood but associated with more of a mathematical context. Then when he wanted to ask the waitress to clear one place setting he used lift ("拿"). I would have thought of "clear" (like in Korean, 치워주세요) or "take" or something. In both cases I immediately understood what he said but wouldn't have known which word to use in those situations. So much of language learning is situational, which is why I become more and more convinced that the only way to really learn a language is to live in the country and speak it every day. My Korean vocabulary isn't all that great, I realize (since my Chinese book is translated into Korean and I often have to look up the Korean translations), but the words I know I really know well. In Chinese I've memorized a lot of vocabulary but I don't know how to use it.

The verb "可以" is another good example. I know it as "to be able to," but is used far more commonly that we use that verb. When getting a massage, to ask if the pressure is ok, they use that verb. Or to ask if something will do (in general) they use that word. It has more of the purchasing power of the English "OK." The Korean verb "되다" is like that -- I knew it first as "to become" but it used in so many ways, from "it's done," to "it's ok," to "that works" and many others. How would you learn all those uses unless you were listening to all the different situations in which the word is used? Like the English word "take" ("take time" "it just didn't take" "take a bath" etc.) these words are so hard to define and explain.

I find the whole process fascinating. At some point (though I really don't have any time) I became enamored with the idea of taking up French again. I took 6 years of French and used to speak it decently well, and it just seems like such an easy language next to Korean and Chinese (and Russian, which I took two years of in college and have forgotten completely). My Chinese class is so cheap (about 100 dollars a month for an hour class 5 days a week) I thought that while I have the opportunity I might as well take another. But I found that French is much more expensive and most of the classes are grammar-oriented (I wanted to take conversation). Oh well. I'm so behind on everything else it was probably a crazy idea in the first place. Mais c'est dommage.

Letting Go

2007-10-12T11:26:00.001+09:00

I've been writing this for a while and at this moment I kind of hate it, but I can't deal with working on it anymore. I need to get back to studying Chinese... That piece of writing has been causing all sorts of stress lately but more than that, something happened last week that has really been bothering me.

That is... I think I saw a dead body on the sidewalk. I was coming from the bus stop, headed toward my Chinese hakwon, and there were some men standing around on the sidewalk in sort of a strange way. Usually at that time of the morning everyone is in motion. I kept walking, then I saw the body. At first I thought it was one of those homeless handicapped men who crawl along the street on a board with wheels begging for money, but when I looked again I realized that this man was young, not moving, had a gash on his forehead, and wearing converse-like shoes, one of which had fallen off. He was mostly covered, rather hastily I guess, with cardboard boxes, so I couldn't see much of his body, just his feet and the top of his head. I couldn't really process what was going on at the time. A policeman was standing nearby, along with the other men, but all of them were standing back away from the body, not talking much. I kept walking, not really understanding, trying to figure it out as I walked to class. This was on Gangnamdae-ro, a busy street, full of people striding around. Because he was on the sidewalk I'm guessing it was not a traffic accident, and because of the time of day (about 9:30am) I don't think he was injured in a fight. I'm guessing he committed suicide by jumping from one of the tall buildings nearby. On my way back after class he was gone, but the police had painted an outline of the body on the sidewalk which I now walk around twice a day as I go to and from my class. Other people don't even realize it is there, they walk over the rectangle without even knowing it.

I looked at the news, and asked around, but no one seems to know what happened to that man.

Suicides are pretty common here, though, and don't often make the news. I was talking to my old Chinese teacher (who also works on Gangnamdae-ro) and she mentioned that she can remember two suicides just within our apartment complex in the last 10 years, from people jumping from the top of the buildings. And our building isn't all that tall, only 10 stories.

I hear about the high suicide rate but have been insulated from the reality of suicides, until now.

Car-Free Day

2007-09-15T08:35:00.000+09:00

I was wrong. I'm exhausted. Whether it is from Chinese or something else I'm not sure. Haven't written much lately.
But we're back on a schedule over at printculture... my latest post on Seoul's Car Free Day.

a new hakwon student

2007-09-07T14:57:00.000+09:00

I started taking Chinese at hakwon this week. When I went to sign up last week I originally tested to get into a MWF class, but after I took the written exam they told me they didn’t have a teacher around to interview me, so would I mind doing the interview over the phone? I jokingly said, “But the phone is so much harder!” Long story short, I did the phone interview the next day and bombed; they put me in beginning Chinese. But then there weren’t enough students so the class was cancelled and I had to do the process all over again at another hakwon. This time I did the interview in person and was placed in level 3. (I would have put myself in level 2...)

I’ve been watching myself go through this process and trying to observe what I can about the process of learning a language. I know from experience in Korea how much harder it is to understand a language over the phone. When I can, I do things in person, especially if it is something I’m doing for the first time: I go to the bank in person, go to the dentist to make an appointment in person. Once I know the people and have a feel for the kinds of questions I’ll need to ask or answer I can do it over the phone, but on the first try it is really hard. In person, I get all sorts of bodily clues, the person can see my expressions (and the fact that I’m a foreigner), I can make use of other tools if I need to. And although it may seem obvious it should be said that when listening to a foreign language one needs to be able to hear very clearly. Background noise, local dialects, mumbling, and idiosyncratic pacing (you know those people who suddenly speed up at the end of a sentence) are all things that can really mess me up in conversation.

So I was really proud of myself for going through the process of registering for a Chinese class in Korean. The test directions were all in Korean, I had to translate from Korean, etc. It wasn’t a big deal (I don’t often have problems with my Korean these days) but I realized as a froze during the test that I had been learning Chinese with an English book, and having to go from Korean to Chinese rather than English to Chinese was messing me up. Chinese and English are more similar grammatically, and when I read Korean the Korean kind of takes over. I found myself translating back into Korean without thinking.

The textbook we’re using in class is also, naturally, a book written for Korean speakers, and some of the vocabulary is hard enough that I don’t understand the Korean translations either, so I had to recharge the batteries for my Korean-English dictionary and carry it around along with my Chinese-English dictionary. There’s a lot of definitional triangulation going on!

The class is hard (I think I really should have been in level 2) but I don’t mind; I’ll learn a lot more if its on the hard side, and I really like the teacher, who is Chinese. She speaks about 95% in Chinese, which I really like just for the sake of learning but also because occasionally when she’ll clarify something in Korean it jars me. Her Korean accent is not that great and it takes me a moment to figure out which language she was speaking and then figure out her accent and usually by that time I’ve lost track of the conversation. I think I follow about 50% of what she says during an average class, though I have good and bad listening days.

This experience reminds me of the classes I took when we moved here, when good amounts of the dialogue would pass through my ears without me understanding what they were about. But I learned a lot of Korean that way, and most of all I learned how to listen. There’s a certain kind of state of mind you have to be in, I think, a sort of receptive, open state of mind, letting everything into your brain and not trying to too-actively tangle with it. If you start trying to consciously pick apart this word or that one you lose track of the flow of the conversation and then you lose the thread of meaning. It is hard to describe how this works exactly, but when I was sitting in class this week I kept thinking, with amazement and pride, that I can get into that state of mind very easily now, and whether it is Korean or Chinese I’m listening to, achieving that kind of receptive state doesn’t exhaust me the way it used to. I can see why they say that people who speak 3 languages tend to pick up new languages more easily -- your mind has been trained to absorb language and no longer gets so disarrayed by waves of input. I don’t feel overwhelmed, I don’t feel like I need to understand one word to get to the next. If I don’t understand something I just let it go and wait for the next one and make inferences. I don’t know my Chinese skills have improved much in the last few days, but the Chinese seems to come out of my mouth with less effort than it did a week ago. But I still don’t speak very well... it’ll take some time, and just as it happened with Korean, there will probably be times when I feel like I’m learning a lot, very quickly, and times when I feel like I’m stuck and not really improving. But I’m excited about the class and just fascinated with the process of learning, with observing the way my brain works.

But more importantly, I need to stop watching Prison Break, or watch season 2 really quickly, because its impeding my studying. We began watching while in the States and were quickly addicted. We’ve finished season 1, but there were several days this past week when we went to bed really late because of that show. Other than our Battlestar Galactica phase I haven’t really watched any TV in the past year or so and I had forgotten what a pleasurable experience it can be. And -- I have to say it, since I ranted about the disappointing kiss in Surgeon BongDarHee -- the kiss between Michael and Sara towards the end of season 1 was really, really good. What can I say? I’m American. I like a good onscreen kiss.

Kid updates:
- Aiden holds my hand until we get near the middle school (which is across the street from his elementary school) then suddenly he drops back about 10 feet and pretends he doesn’t know me. He’s suddenly very aware of these bigger kids; he’s fascinated with the way they get punished every morning. Actually, I find it fascinating too. As they enter the school gate they get checked for all sorts of stuff: the length of their hair, their skirts, the state of their uniforms, etc. If something isn’t right they get punished; first they sit in lines near the gate and later they either get hit or their heads or shaved or they have to do push ups or some other similar physical exercise (standing with arms out?). I haven’t stuck around to watch the whole process but it is kind of funny and grotesquely strange at the same time. Middle school kids here are like a different species. I was walking by the school one day and streams of girls were coming out crying; it turns out they had had an exam. Exams are a serious business.

- on the trip back to SF we were in Minneapolis for a layover and Aiden asked me if the population of Minneapolis was small. I didn’t quite know where that question was coming from, and started into this explanation about the relative populations of cities... and then he said, “Because it’s ‘mini,’ Mommy!” Aha. Got it.

- And then while we were boarding the plane he asked, “Mommy, why do men like women? When they’re adults, I mean?” Good question, little boy, good question.

travel through the printculture archives

2007-08-06T23:12:00.001+09:00

I actually posted this a little while ago, but forgot to link to it here...

Fortified Kids

2007-07-30T23:28:00.001+09:00

We’re about ten days into our U.S. trip, in the second city. Aiden’s into his second week of camp (soccer camp for one week and now general sports camp for a week) and Max just started his first week of camp (gymnastics). Finally getting through the jet lag and beginning to be able to make sense of the world again.

Aiden has been incredibly observant this trip. There’s some kind of budding of consciousness that happens at first grade; suddenly he is acutely aware of difference and able to (sometimes) articulate it. Some of his questions/observations:
1. “Mommy, why do people in the U.S. live in houses while people in Korea live in apartments?”
2. “Mommy, how come there are no sidewalks in the U.S.?”
3. “Why can’t I ride my scooter to the store?” (he’s not used to having to get into the car for every little errand)
4. “Why are all the signs green, on the highway and on the street?”
5. “Wow, stuff in the U.S. is so cheap!”
6. (from the last trip, at the airport, upon being told that he had to stay in the women’s bathroom with me and Max until we were finished because the “rules” are different here) “Mommy, the U.S. is terrible!”

Language that he’s learned:
1. “What the heck?” (Now Max knows it too) I asked, “Where did you learn that?” From the kids at camp. He delights in the expression (perhaps because it rattles us) though he often uses the malap ropism “What a heck?”

One day after I picked him up from soccer camp he told me how he saw an older boy pour some water on his face and then wipe himself with a towel, so he did the same thing. He told me how some people wear shin guards and some don’t, even though they’re all supposed to. I’m so impressed with his observations; I feel like, somehow, all this traveling back and forth invites him to notice and articulate difference. He very consciously studies and mimics the behavior he observes in other kids. I am fairly sure that at that age I was also acutely aware of my differences and did a lot of mimicking, but I don’t think I could articulate it the way that he can. Part of that may be the difference in the way we were trained to see the world; I attributed difference to some failure of understanding on my part; he has learned to distinguish language and rules (and name then as different) since he was a small child. He’s also mimicking the way KC and I talk as we move through these spaces and observe the people, the landscape, and the systems.

His observation of difference was occurring back in Korea as well. First grade has been a real challenge; as I noted in an earlier post, this year he’s started to become more self-consciously aware of the way that he himself is different (physically, culturally, linguistically, etc.). First grade has been challenging, not because of the work or the new school, necessarily, but because first-graders are so much aware of difference, so much more self-conscious, and so much more articulate. They hear what the older kids say and repeat, appreciating the power of the words but not understanding their effect. We’ve been having problems with teasing, with Aiden’s desk partner and his friends saying things like, “You write so slowly and your handwriting is so bad, you should go back to kindergarten!” Add that to his growing awareness that he is different (physically, linguistically, etc.) and he’s had a bit of a rocky time. He’s pretty even-tempered and he bounces back quickly, and in general he’s a social kid who gets along with everybody, but he is really hurt by the teasing. I had to have some discussions with some of his friends’ moms which felt like training for the diplomatic corps. I told them that I didn’t think (and I do believe this) that no ill-will was meant by the other kids; first-graders don’t seem to have much understanding of point-of-view, or much empathy. Aiden’s own way of communicating that he likes someone and wants to play is to go over and shove that person. He’s such a physical kid. I told him, “Not everybody likes that, they think you’re trying to be mean. I know that’s not what you intended, but that’s how your friends might feel.” So I think the teasing is something like that. His desk partner’s mom said that she tells her daughter, “Your writing is so bad” so that’s probably why her daughter repeats it to Aiden.

But that points to another problem; first-graders in Korea are beginning to feel the academic stress which will shadow them until they enter college. Part of the reason that Aiden gets teased, I think, is because he’s good at English and he can opt out of the system. And the way parents transmit their worries over their children’s academic abilities gets parroted by the kids and gives the kids reasons to channel stress through teasing. I was talking to a mom friend of mine about the teasing and she suggested that I assign Aiden more workbooks to work on his writing. If your kid is falling behind, time to make him practice more, to throw more stuff at him, so that he can be the best -- that’s the attitude. I told her, “No, I won’t do that -- that’s not the point. The point isn’t that he has to be the best at everything, or that he should do more work. He already does his regular homework, his math workbook, his English homework, and his Chinese every day. His writing has improved a lot, and that’s the important thing. I’m not going to add to his stress, or teach him that he can’t be less than perfect at something. I want him to play. I want him to spend time with his brother. I want him to understand that family and friendships are more important than schoolwork. I want him to learn that being a good brother or friend is a skill, and that you have to practice that every day too, just like reading and writing, and that that skills is more important than the others.”

That kid’s mom, my friend (who suggested more workbooks) has 3 boys and I suspect that the second son is stressed out because this year (he’s the same age, same class as Aiden) he’s taking (in addition to school) 6 hours of English a week (not including homework), piano, violin, art, soccer, and various other little things that I don’t know much about (workbooks where the teacher comes and does them or checks them at one’s home). I told my friend, “Don’t you think it’s too much? When does he have time to play?” But she said that even though she knows its hard on him, he can’t fall behind now, and that because they’re going to keep living in Korea she has no choice. I know where she’s coming from, and I can’t really disagree with what she’s saying, but I think it really sucks for the kids and I think in the end its going to have consequences. People think they can throw kids into this and that, adding skills to the kid like fortifying bread. That’s what we’re trying to make here -- fortified kids.

Reading the Signs

2007-07-07T10:00:00.000+09:00

We're back, over at printculture... here's my second post on city spaces.

Frak

2007-06-29T15:27:00.000+09:00

You know you've been watching too much Battlestar Galactica when...
1. You have dreams in which there are multiple copies of people you know in real life.
2. You spend time wondering if Kara Thrace is a cylon (I haven't gotten to the end of season 3 yet so please, so spoilers)
3. You find yourself saying things like, "Do you have a frakking problem with that?"
4. You neglect your blog.

Speaking of TV shows, I mentioned a while back that I was into that drama "Surgeon BongDarHee." Apparently it is based on Grey's Anatomy, which I haven't seen. My Chinese teacher who got me into BongDarHee was going through withdrawal and started watching Grey's Anatomy, only to be shocked by all the sex. Her description went something like, "So in the first episode, one of the blonde doctors and the brown haired main doctor sleep together, and then they find out that they're working at the same hospital. And then later some other doctors sleep together and spread a venereal disease. And then that doctor sleeps with someone else at the hospital... Jennifer, do doctors in the U.S. really have that much sex?"
Meanwhile, I'm watching BongDarHee and thinking, "Do people in Korea really wait this long before kissing? That might explain the popularity of the cold pool at the public bath..."
Our various cultural expectations of the role and prominence of physical affection are quite different.

Monsoon season has begun in Korea. The floor of our apartment is vaguely sticky, and I'm not sure if that's because of the humidity or something one of the kids spilled. Laundry doesn't dry properly. I find myself wanting to take multiple showers a day. The boys have all sorts of guck accumulating underneath their chins, in their underarms, and in other chubby spots. All of our umbrellas are somewhat dysfunctional, since they also serve as swords, canes, missiles, etc. Aiden's shoes emit a strange and unpleasant odor.

Anyway, my class is finally over and printculture is on a break so I thought I would have lots of time to get stuff done but it hasn't worked out that way. I did submit something for the next issue of Multicultural Living, so if you haven't subscribed, get on it! It is a great magazine. I'm in the midst of a bunch of other projects and trying to prepare for our next U.S. trip (involves getting us all up-to-date on our vaccinations, cavities, haircuts, etc. and preparing all the gifts). So sorry for the dearth of posts lately, but one of these days I'll get on it.

And more importantly, I need to get caught up on Baltar's frakking trial.

city spaces and spacing out

2007-05-30T10:12:00.000+09:00

I feel like May has been one long, panting sprint to some moving finish line. Deadlines, commitments, birthdays, read this write that plan this fix that. The weather has been warm for a month and I haven't taken out the summer clothes yet -- I know it will be a whole day project, involving complete upheaval of our already-messy apartment, much dust, more lego pieces missing, and agonizing over what to throw away. I need to keep throwing away, paring down our lives and our selves before moving again. A little every month. So my kids have been running around in clothes that are way too tight and short, and I'm sweating through the weather in jeans and long-sleeve shirts. We're on the cusp of the mass migration of ex-pats back to the U.S. as well, so I need to fit in all my social engagements -- just as important as all the others.
Me: Can you watch the kids on thursday? We're having mom's night out.
KC: Didn't you just have mom's night out last week?
Me: That was a different set of moms.
KC: geez, how many sets are there?
Me: How many rounds of golf have you played lately?
KC: ...OK, I'll watch the kids.

But... I'm really enjoying my life right now. People to meet, stacks of things to read, articles to write, kids growing like weeds, sword-fighting right and left.

I've been writing/thinking a lot about space lately, though not to any sense of completion. I am discovering that I am a very very slow writer. As usual, I went through a bunch of drafts on themes related to city spaces, trying to find some central tie to pull them all together. Short for time, I posted something short on printculture, intending to come back to the topic. But we've decided to take a breather over there, which will allow me to catch up a little on my other commitments...

Anyway, here are some discarded parts of a post on reading space that I haven't pulled together... but I like these paragraphs.

My apartment door slams behind me and I hear the beep of the automatic lock as my feet find their rhythm along the stained tile floor of the hall. I sidle past my neighbor’s open door, inhaling the steam from cooking rice. Open on one side, the hall is actually a long balcony framed by trees (and attracting mosquitos) which do not block out the shrieks of traffic and excitement from the playground below. Down I go through the shaded stairwell, my body dispersing the lingering cigarette smoke, past ads for private lessons and a public service notice advising people not to send their kids to buy cigarettes for them. I cut through the playground to get to the main road, saying “hi,” to the children there -- I’ve taught many of them at one point or another. Stepping over the short fence I pause to shake the sand out of my shoes. Before crossing over the entrance to the parking lot I peer around all the illegally parked cars, half on and half off the sidewalk, leaning into the street as if listening for some secret tale only pavement can tell. A scooter zips by me; the driver carries a metal box full of take-out Chinese in one hand (probably jajangmyun), weaving through pedestrians and traffic with his cellphone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

I enter the streams of people along the main sidewalk. Although my size, shape, dress, and coloring don’t set me apart from anyone else, my walk marks me as an American -- long stride, fast pace, ain’t nothin’ gonna slow me down. Being aware of one’s space is a skill city dwellers need to have, but some never acquire it -- a kind of spatial tone deafness. Those are the people clogging up the sidewalk or weaving so it is impossible to pass. But movement in Seoul has a vocabulary of its own -- a gentle push or nudge to one side is a perfectly acceptable way of regulating space hogs. Even while seeming oblivious to others’ spatial needs (some people, I suspect, hog the sidewalk on purpose) one must be vigilant for sudden scooters and other threats.

Scooter drivers are the grand masters of city space: able to find holes in the crowded sidewalks and having an intimate knowledge of the fastest flight plan through apartment blocks, heavy traffic, rivers, and other obstacles. They seem to obey no laws -- man-made or physical. Having mastered the timing of traffic signals, they fly across the intersection between the time one light turns red and the next turns green, balancing delicate cargo, cellphone, and umbrella, leaving the street to take to the sidewalk, sand, or other rideable space. If they are the grand masters, though, I am a grasshopper, still learning how to read city spaces, overwhelmed by the signeage, stumbling over cracks in the pavement, distracted by the bombardment of light, color, sound, and smell.

I look down at my feet. The pavement is a palimpsest of city life, mottled by different shades of asphalt patches, small puddles of spit, vomit decomposing in the sun, a discarded ice cream wrapper, and police markings from the last scooter accident: “head,” “legs,” “motorcycle.” In a walking city, the quality of curbs marks the status of the neighborhood -- the more uneven and weedy, the poorer the district.

and more:

It took me two years to get used to living in Seoul, to reach the state where small parts of daily life become invisible, to relax my grip and my constant apprehension. Two years to feel like I wasn’t drowning in the overwhelming unfamiliarity of the city. And now I find myself at the point where I take things for granted to the extent that I forget that they are unusual; or I know that they are unusual but can’t explain why. But some switch has been thrown in my mind as I think about leaving, and I can stand back and try to catalogue my life here while I still have the opportunity.

There’s something about the way we navigate and read city spaces here which I can’t quite get at. Part of it is the grammar of movement -- the way you have to visually parse the space differently as you drive, walk, and park. You anticipate and plot the trajectories of other objects (cars, scooters, pedestrians) as you move; you communicate your presence through honks, blinking hazard lights, gentle pushes. The hazard light is its own little genre here. Cut in front of someone and use it to say, “hey, thanks for letting me in and sorry about that.” -- like the wave of a hand in the U.S. If the traffic slows suddenly it means, “look out! Slow down immediately! Something’s going on up ahead!” In the garages of big department stores, blinking hazards mean “trying to park” rather than “trying to exit,” aiding the legions of parking lot assistants to direct the cars properly. Pulled over on the side of the road it means, “Yes I know I am parked illegally but I don’t really give a damn, just get over it and go around.”

character sketch

2007-05-09T09:10:00.000+09:00

We had to write a character sketch in 500 words for that class I'm taking... here is mine.

primary education

2007-05-03T08:26:00.000+09:00

My latest printculture post, on education.

identity crisis

2007-04-23T22:20:00.000+09:00

First I have to say that I am aware I have been tagged by Corey... and I have not yet come up with my list of 5 blogs. I have to think about that for a while... stay tuned...

I feel like I have so many updates. We got back from our trip to Shanghi last week. I was writing something about visiting schools and then the Virginia Tech shooting happened, and I was busy reading about the reactions both here and in the U.S. Over at Printculture we had an interesting discussion, started by S L Kim, and I tried to provide some context from here. That was difficult for many reasons -- partly because I have lived here for long enough that many things about this place have become invisible or just, somehow, logical to me. And it is always difficult to talk about race/ethnicity.

Anyway... Shanghai. We looked at two schools, one bilingual English/Chinese and one Korean. The Korean school was much cheaper (because it is a real Korean school funded by the Korean government, using the same standard textbooks, etc.) and similar to Aiden's current school in terms of curriculum and protocol, plus they do an hour of Chinese and an hour of English each day. The Korean school, Singaporean school, Taiwanese school, American school, and British school are all basically in the same place, near Hongqiao airport, which (I didn't realize) is quite far -- a good 40 minute bus ride. So he'd be spending a lot of time on the bus. The other school we looked at is Yew Cheng (I have to check the spelling but its close) which, location-wise, is much better. The facility is very nice. The teachers seem good and the kids are very international -- each class has quite a mix. Quite expensive. Each class has an English-speaking teacher and a Chinese-speaking teacher and they have something like 30% of the day doing Chinese.

Anyway, I was debating the pros and cons of these schools and my better half said, "If we're going to send him to Korean school we might as well stay in Korea and send him to Chinese lessons, or just come to Shanghai for the summer. What's the point of moving then?" He was right. Our goal is a linguistic and cultural one. So, to make a long story short, we decided to send him to local school. Perhaps a private local school, but a local school nonetheless. Shanghai actually has several local international schools -- these are Chinese schools with an international class, so the kids go into the international class first (like an ESL class), until they can join the regular class. I need to research more about which school, but basically the big decision is made. Local school. Chinese. (If anyone reading this has experience sending kids to school in Shanghai, or knows of a good Shanghai blogger, let me know!)

In the midst of this decision and all the cleaning, etc. at Aiden's school I'm writing a post for printculture about the ways in which sending Aiden to local school here has tied us into the social system in unexpected ways. At least -- I think that's what it is about. Still working on it. Even though all this cleaning stuff is a little annoying and more than a little amusing, I really have learned a lot from participating in the local school at that level, getting to know the moms, and being tied into the infrastructure of education here. I think I've learned more than Aiden has. Now I'm going to have to do it again....

Last week, though, something interesting happened. I was walking Aiden home from school along the river and trying to explain to him about "point of view." (The long story around this is I was doing some behavioral engineering, trying to prepare him for our move and for making new friends, by complimenting the way he is so good at making friends because he is good at seeing other people's points of view...anyway.) All the sudden he said, "Shh Mommy! Be quiet!" A man had been walking near us. As soon as the man was out of earshot Aiden said, "OK, you can talk now."

I was confused. What was that all about? He was already back into his game of not getting electrocuted by jumping over all the cracks and bumps in the sidewalk. I pressed him. "Why did you ask me to be quiet?" "Because you're speaking ENGLISH, Mommy. This is Korea!" I pressed him some more and got "It's embarrassing." But why is it embarrassing? He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to talk about Darth Vader. I kept at him. "Because then they ask me, 'Are you American or are you Korean?"

Then I understood. I had created myself -- a kid who didn't fit in and was conscious of his difference. I didn't react that well. I tried to convince him he was special and tell him how envious other people are that he can speak English so well. I reminded him that his friends spend two hours a day in English hakwon while he plays. I told him that I would keep speaking English to him because that is my gift to him -- the languages that he is learning as a child, and that if you don't keep practicing a language you will forget it and have to painfully relearn it. I told him that his grandmother was born in Japan and no longer can speak Japanese, isn't that sad? He agreed that it was. I reminded him that people will ask him the same questions even if he doesn't speak English, just because of the way he looks. I made quite a sales pitch. I was more than a little upset about the whole thing. I wanted him to see the world the way I see it, conveniently forgetting how long it took me to get to this point.

Then I was talking to Emily later about the whole thing and she suggested that if I validated his feelings instead of trying to argue them away he would still, hopefully, keep telling me how he feels.

A few days later the same scene of being shushed happened again. The day after that Aiden was playing with his grandfather in the playground and some older kid kept saying, "Hey, aren't you American? Speak English! Say something in English!" I guess he was following Aiden around and pestering him. Aiden's kind of shy, he doesn't like being put on the spot like that, and his grandfather berated the kid. I told him later, "They are interested in you because you can speak two languages so easily. But you don't have to speak if you don't want to. Just tell him you don't want to and that's fine." Aiden's come up with his own tactic. When people ask him if he's American or Korean he says, "You don't need to know (몰라도돼)."

I have to think more clearly about how to handle this... I'm not ready for him to be embarrassed by me!

photograph

2007-04-19T14:13:00.000+09:00

It has been a busy week. We're back from Shanghai and I will have updates soon about the school situation.

I had here an essay I wrote about this photograph for my writing class, but I have deleted it... after all the good comments I thought I should submit it somewhere. Sorry about that. If you want to read it, send me an e-mail or write me a comment. Thanks -- Jennifer

Defensive walking, consumerism, schools

2007-04-11T12:20:00.000+09:00

I got this from Cat over at Seoullife.net. I don't know if people who haven't been to Seoul with think this is funny but it made me laugh to watch. The frustrating thing about walking with a child is that children have no sense of space, they don't anticipate the movements of others and move accordingly. But then again, I often think that other people are the same way, especially groups of people walking together. My pet peeve is people walking in a group who take up the whole sidewalk. Since I tend to walk faster than pretty much everyone else, getting stuck behind a pack of slow walkers drives me nuts. Luckily I have grown accustomed to pushing people out of the way. I wonder if there's a YouTube video of that.

I've been sick for the past few days and holed up at home and finally ventured out this morning to run some errands before going to Shanghai tomorrow. When you've been cooped up for a while, your body is still fuzzy from illness, and you haven't been to a shopping mall for several months, it is very surreal and strange to be out and about again. I found myself getting that itch to buy things, looking at plates and pillows and clothes. Good thing I cannot buy housewares because I know we will move again and I don't want any extra stuff. That consumerist bug lives inside me like a parasite and even when I think I've trained it out of my system it surprises me by manifesting its symptoms of greed and desire for shiny things again.

We had our "big cleaning" over the weekend. I meant to take a camera, but on the way out I realized I had left it at home and didn't want to walk back. While I was balanced on the window ledge cleaning the panes of glass with 2 other moms I mentioned that I had wanted to take pictures and the mom next to me looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to explain that my friends in the US think that this whole moms cleaning thing is strange and I wanted to capture what it was like. She didn't say much but it occurred to me that what I find interesting to record may just be a little embarrassing for them.

So... the big cleaning. We met at 12:10, after school finished (on Saturday they don't have lunch at school so they finish earlier). I had already eaten, it didn't occur to me that we would eat together. One mom brought a huge amount of kimpap, some green tea-type drinks, and instant coffee. We sat and ate and talked for a while and I tried to remember who is who (in Korea, you mostly call people by title or affiliation rather than name, so I call Aiden's classmates' moms "so-and-so's mom" rather than by name. That would actually be easier if I knew the names of the kids in Aiden's class but even he doesn't know them, aside from his few close buddies. He must take after me in that respect.) Anyway, they all know me. Everyone had come with rags, cleaning fluid, rubber gloves, etc. except me because I didn't realize I would need to bring those things... but there was enough to go around. We cleaned the heck out of that classroom. We took apart the fans and cleaned the blades. We dismantled the curtains and sent them to the dry cleaners. The windows, which I spent the most time on (because I figured it would occupy a long time and were fairly self-explanatory) spanned the length of the classroom, 3 panes of glass thick. They took a long time. We dusted everything, washed the walls and doors in the hall outside the class, rearranged the books... It took about 2, 2.5 hours. There was a lot of dust, it did need to be cleaned. The other moms were saying they hadn't even done such a thorough cleaning in their own homes. Ha.

Tuesday was my turn at lunch and daily cleaning duty but I was so sick I had to switch with someone else (really, I was really sick!). So I'll have to save that story for Monday. Sandra sent me this article about moms doing this kind of work in Korea. I can definitely relate. For me, this is a temporary thing, and I attend as much from compulsion as from curiosity. I don't know how I would feel if I knew I would be doing this for the next 12 years. Though as far as I can see, in the upper grades the kids clean the classrooms themselves... when I come to the school in the afternoon the older kids are mopping the floors and washing the blackboards.

While we are in Shanghai this trip we will check out the Korean International School there. It is cheaper than the other international schools and I think it may be easier for Aiden to adjust if I keep him in the same kind of system. Plus I want him to maintain his Korean after we move. They do 4 hours of English a week and 3 hours of Chinese at that school, which I like very much (it is very important to me that he learn Chinese). So perhaps I will be cleaning classrooms for a few more years yet...

elementary ecosystems

2007-04-05T22:16:00.000+09:00

See Jennifer cut out strips of paper and paste them in a notebook.
See Jennifer clean the classroom.
See Jennifer serve lunch to hungry 1st graders.
Run, Jennifer, run!

Ah, yes, welcome to school in Korea. Each class here is, as my friend Becky says, its own "ecosystem," self-contained and self-supporting. Which means, in practice, that the moms do everything. The last few weeks have been full of stressful meetings to determine who will be the class leader (mom, not child), who will serve in the crossing guard corps, who will serve as a volunteer teacher (that's me), who will make the rotation delegating lunch-serving and daily classroom-cleaning duties, etc. As we gather each afternoon (they're finally having lunch at school now, whahoo!) to wait for our children to emerge, the moms from each class huddle together to reveal that classes 1, 2, and 3 have already done their "big cleaning" of the class, and we're looking bad because we haven't done one yet. This is followed by a flurry of pronouncements and text messages to the effect that everyone better show up on Saturday after class (because we have class on Saturday) for the "big cleaning," and someone needs to bring equipment. I haven't done any cleaning yet so I'm not sure what this entails, but since it is supposed to take at least an hour and utilize all the moms who come (of 29 in a class, how many will that be?), we must be cleaning every nook and cranny of that classroom. I will try to take some pictures.

I had my first volunteer teaching class today. You can choose what you want to teach, so naturally I am teaching English conversation. I have 18 6th graders; some of them speak quite well and have lived abroad and some are less comfortable with English. I'm used to teaching little kids (between 2 and 8) so this was a nice change. I asked them what kinds of topics they wanted to talk about, and got everything from euthanasia and the death penalty to computer games and whether they should be required to go to school on Saturdays. For the first class we played "two truths and a lie," and then I broke them into two sides and had them debate why one should or shouldn't learn another language. It seems like a silly question here where everyone takes as a given that learning a language, especially English, is important and useful. But in the U.S. it is not so obvious. I asked them to pretend they were trying to convince me to learn Korean (or not to bother). I wanted them to think about the various costs, benefits, and motivations to learning a language, and to consider all the different kinds of ways and in what environments one might use a language. It was a lively and interesting discussion. Then I asked them to talk about what were the most useful methods for learning a language. I'll be teaching them twice a month for a year.

Between all these new little tasks and duties I have I feel a little frazzled each day. Aiden comes home from school with his assignment book in which he has painstakingly recorded all his homework assignments, the items he needs to prepare for class, and any other messages from the teacher, all of which are completely illegible. I then spend an hour or so calling other moms from his class, trying to collectively decipher our children's handwriting and figure out exactly what the teacher wants. (I have learned to call the parents of the girls in the class; they tend to have better handwriting.) The other day not only did I not understand what he had written, but then once I found out what the assignment was I found that he had brought home the wrong book. He was supposed to look at the pictures in some book and make up a story to go with them. Aiden's friend's mom was kind enough to explain each picture to me, and then she took photos of the pictures with her cellphone camera and e-mailed them to me. Quite a bit of mommy ingenuity. Luckily my husband came home early so I could make a last-minute dash to the 문방구 (kind of like a office supply/stationary store) to buy Aiden a P.E. outfit. There are always things on his assignment sheet that I need to acquire before class the next day which I find quite annoying. But now I understand why these stores open so early in the morning.

Things are only going to get crazier. I just posted my response to Mallon's silly questions for the discussion we've been having over at printculture, not as well-edited as usual, and I couldn't come up with a good title. A few of the really cool bloggers (I won't say who they are because I haven't asked them if its ok) and I have formed a writing group, which I'm really excited about, and my online class starts next week. And it just occurred to me that we only have about a year before moving to Shanghai, so I'd better get off my ass and start planning the move. Or at least put Aiden on a waiting list for school. Any Shanghai ex-pat bloggers out there who want to give me some advice?

In which I upload the pictures on my camera

2007-03-30T13:53:00.000+09:00

Spring has arrived, the winter clothes are sitting in a pile near the door because I can't find a box and don't want to mess with the pile of suitcases in our one closet...In honor of the idea of spring cleaning I'm finally uploading some pictures.First, here's the kind of homework the kids do in first grade here:

I took this shot because I was telling people how the main difference I saw in preschool here and in the U.S. was much more emphasis on developing muscles for writing here. When Aiden entered preschool they did a lot of tracing, cutting out shapes, etc. -- and told me his arm muscles were much weaker than the other kids (which I have no doubt is true, even now, because he doesn't like to draw).

Now these are pictures of Yellow Dust: on the car and in the sky. The sky was really hazy for the last few days, and you could see the dust on the cars. I had pretty bad headaches for those few days too, not sure if that was related to the dust. Many people wore masks.

Here's another shot of the river near where we live, and the hazy sky above it.

The next shot is of the chickens, rabbits, and guinea fowl they keep at Aiden's school. It didn't come out very well.

Then a shot of the school itself.

The Bunco Party

2007-03-21T09:25:00.000+09:00

Well, I've been trying to write something about the bunco party I attended -- whoa-- almost 2 months ago. As some of you who read multiple Korea blogs, I met fellow blogger Sandra there. Browsing through the blogs written by people attending bunco parties, it seems that these all start with a disclaimer along the lines of "I thought these parties were for losers but went and had fun!" I wanted to write about isolation and its countermeasures, about the ways in which people hold the world together through little acts. So I went through a bunch of drafts in essay form and it was... shitty. I happened to be reading Mrs. Dalloway at the same time, and somehow this turned into fiction. So here's my disclaimer: this is my first piece of fiction, and all the characters are at least partially made up, or they are amalgams of several people. I'd appreciate any feedback! The Bunco Party

And THANKS to Becky, Nicki, Sandra, and Emily for their comments and help with this!

Korean dramas and titles

2007-03-14T22:14:00.000+09:00

We've been here almost four years now and I'm finally getting into one of those dramas. I usually only watch them with my mother-in-law because I can't stand those 김하늘 같은 징그러운 여자들... those women who simper and act frail and weak. Can't. stand. them. But my Chinese teacher is obsessed with the drama 외과선생님봉달희 (Surgeon Bong Dar Hee). It is sort of an ER type drama about doctors and various love triangles and complications. It has some moments which drive me a little crazy, like when one husband and wife unite the husband takes his wife back by talking about the things he wants to eat... I guess I'm conditioned by American TV and film to expect passionate embraces and falling into bed. At least some kissing! Come on! Anyway, I've only been watching for a few weeks. But the scene I just watched was hysterical; the main characters finally went out on a date (to the movies) but in them middle of the movie they are all paged back to the hospital. Leaving the theater they run into two residents who are also dating. Then the resident couple make the female of the main couple buy their silence through coffee, beer, and a lot of food. It is a very funny scene. I am not doing it justice here.

This is just the last in a line of things that make people exclaim (including myself) "You are becoming Korean!" I didn't used to like naengmyun, for instance. Now I still don't like mul naengmyun, but I like bibimnaengmyun. Another time I was asking the principal of FYKO about a new English teacher and caught myself asking, "How old is she? Is she married?"

Labels interest me. Sometime last year KC called me "fluent." I was surprised. I imagine fluency as ease and complete understanding somehow. I still have problems with certain kinds of language, and still have a lot to learn. But I get around just fine and can pick up on most nuance. I share Corey's discomfort with the label "bilingual" or "fluent." But I hold onto it as well; I'm proud of how much I have learned, as an adult, in a language that is so different from English.

The label "writer" is also one I have encountered recently. I don't feel that I can really inhabit that label, since I know zilch about writing, and as of yet no one has been willing to actually pay me to write anything, but I do spend most of my free time writing. The other day my friend Emily tacked on a "I shouldn't tell you this because it might end up in one of your essays" and I thought, hmmm... that actually makes me feel like a writer!

I enrolled in an online writing course given by my alma mater. I'm excited but a little nervous about that.

OK, another reason I don't watch these dramas is that someone always dies. In this case I'm worried the main female character is going to die. She has heart trouble... uh oh.

toilet humor

2007-03-13T12:43:00.000+09:00

Aiden has reached the age at which he delights in the word “fart.” I remember boys being like that when I was young, playing pull-my-finger in the bus. Max does whatever his brother does, so our day is full of conversations like this:
me: What did you do in school today?
A: Fart. [dissolves into giggles]
me: What’s the name of the girl you sit with? [in Korea, kids are paired with a partner (짝) in school, usually of the opposite sex.]
A: Her name is “Fart.” [more giggling. very pleased with himself]
Max: [singing] Do you know the farting man, the farting man, the farting man? Do you know the farting man who lives on drury lane?
I give up. Right now I’d settle for him recognizing that at certain times the fart talk is not appropriate. Like in front of guests, or to his grandparents. But he’s so taken by the word that he loses sight of everything else in his pleasure of being provocative. Choose your battles, right?

Max is pretty much toilet trained now. He hasn’t had an accident in a while, though he still wears a diaper to sleep. This has something to do with the use of M&Ms as bribery -- I mean reward -- and a lot to do with the persistence of his teachers at school. I can’t say enough about how much I love the school he goes to, FYKO. It is a bilingual school, a bit pricey, but I get a discount for teaching there and it is really worth every penny. I can’t imagine teachers in the U.S. teaching kids to potty train the way they have here, dealing with all the messy accidents (I used to have to send him to school with a bag full of extra clothes, and he’d still come back home wearing someone else’s pink socks.

Moving on

2007-03-07T12:23:00.000+09:00

I have been a negligent blogger lately. Some scattered things I meant to write about:

Seoul Man, who took the Korea-blogging world by storm last year, is leaving Korea. That’s the problem with being an ex-pat -- people are always leaving. You finally meet someone, you invest in a relationship, and a year later they move on, hopefully to some exotic location so you can plan to visit them. Last year saw the departure of at least 3 friends; this year will see a few more. In some ways I think that ex-pat friendships can become very strong very fast because there’s a sense of being in a special situation that not many people can relate too. But sometimes I think these friendships never get past the acquaintance stage because you know the person (or yourself) isn’t going to be around very long.

So Aiden is in elementary school now. We’ve spent the last two weeks or so preparing. We had to get all his school stuff (backpack, new indoor shoes, new outdoor shoes which are -- holey moley -- the same size as my mother-in-law’s shoes, a desk, crayons, etc.) We had to clean out a room for him to use to study, which took a REALLY long time, and now our “office” is full of discarded toys that I need to donate. But his room is really nice now. He doesn’t sleep in there, just studies. I knew all this was coming, and I knew it would be busy and tedious, but I had trouble getting up the motivation to do all of it. It is March! I can’t get used to associating March with the start of school. It is funny how the seasons trigger such strong memories and associations. No matter where I am or how old I am, the fall reminds me of starting school, makes me want to go out and buy new notebooks, and run in the crisp fall weather (memories of running cross country). With great difficulty and much avoidance and griping we managed to get Aiden set to go to school.

People have been telling me, with a slightly maniacal gleam of the eye, that once your kid goes to elementary school life becomes really difficult and busy for the mom. Moms are expected to help out a lot at the school, cleaning the classroom or serving meals or standing on the street making sure the kids don’t get run over. They also have to run around preparing all the things the kid needs for school each day. Some teachers discriminate based on how much the mom helps or how much money the mom has given the teacher, so there’s a great deal of anxiety about finding out which teacher your kid is assigned to. Plus, so much of future social life depends upon the kids in the class -- elementary school kids bond here in a way that doesn’t happen much in the States. KC still regularly meets his elementary school friends, they have reunions and stuff. Aiden’s friend’s mom (Carol) and I requested that our kids be in the same class, which usually they won’t do, but we argued that because I’m a foreigner and unfamiliar with the school system I would need someone to show me the ropes so that Aiden wouldn’t be a burden on the teacher. They granted our request, and now our kids are in grade 1 class 4 together, with a 50-something female teacher who has a reputation for military-style teaching, low tolerance for troublemakers, and discrimination based on how much the moms help (but not based on money, that’s good). The parents got scolded twice already -- first for hovering around the classroom windows and distracting the kids on the first few days, then for not having sent all the necessary materials on the second day. But watching her talk to the kids, so far I have to say that she seems like a good teacher. She is authoritative and firm but not mean, and the kids seem to like her. She’s one of those very solid looking women you don’t want to mess with -- no lace and coy smiles from her. She wears practical shoes, not heels, and she has a commanding gaze. When the kids came unprepared, she didn’t scold them, she scolded us. That’s fair. It explains why Carol called me in a panic the second morning and warned me: “Don’t forget this and this and this! OK see you later!” Teachers are taken seriously here.

Another strange thing about school here is the graduated start. The first day of school only lasted an hour or so. The second day (which was a Saturday -- another strange thing is that they go to school 2-3 Saturdays a month) was also only an hour (10am to 11am). The next three weeks they only go from 9am to 11am, then after that they finish at noon. So first grade here starts off pretty easy, to let the kids get used to it, I guess. Nevermind that most of these kids have been in school for 3 or more years. Max, for instance, now goes every day even though he’s not quite 3, and his day lasts from 9:30 to 2:20 -- far longer than Aiden. I feel hesitant and ambivalent about sending him so long at such a young age. So far he’s doing well and seems to really like it, and frankly, I enjoy having some time to myself each day, catching up on all my crap.

People move on, kids grow up. Lately Max has been really into playing with Daddy. He walks around the apartment with a toy gun tucked into his pants (and often falling into his pants, since the gun as almost as big as he is) and a blanket tied around his neck (his cape), saying “Daddy! Let’s sword fight!” But then a few minutes later the gun will fall into his pants again and he’ll cry, because he’s still that touchy kid who loses it sometimes. Then will retreat together to cuddle in the bed, him nursing and holding onto me with his chubby finger. He’s still my baby, though if I call him that he corrects me: “No Mommy, I’m a BIG BOY.”

In medias res

2007-03-07T06:59:00.000+09:00

I know, I've been a terrible blogger lately. The kids were on vacation and then Aiden started elementary school. I hit a patch of exhaustion. But they will both be gone for a few hours today so I will post some more. Until then, here is "In medias res."

Liveblogging the Oscars

2007-02-26T09:16:00.000+09:00

We're liveblogging the oscars over at Printculture...
snarking and comments welcome!

Habits of Waste...again

2007-02-21T20:44:00.000+09:00

Am stuffed full of ddok mandu gook and recovering from the gluttony lunar new year. Here's another go at "Habits of Waste."

Mac in my top

2007-02-08T15:29:00.000+09:00

As a former Silicon Valley resident (7 years) and a Mac user, I thought I'd share this video:

The Boy Whisperer

2007-02-07T09:33:00.000+09:00

Edited "On Boys" to become "The Boy Whisperer." Had to cut a lot out of this one, and have looked at it too much now to decide whether that was a good idea or not.

ADHD drugs

2007-02-01T17:40:00.000+09:00

I live in Gangnam, the center of the vortex that is education anxiety in competitive Korea.

And today was Aiden's "예비소집" (sort of an orientation meeting) for elementary school. It was actually uneventful -- we were expecting a huge meeting and speeches and stuff but basically all they did was give us information and check us off. And I got to see the school for the first time, so that was interesting. The classrooms look pretty nice. They gave us a bunch of "Is your child ready for school?" type materials, which should be interesting material for future blog posts.

Afterwards some of the mommies and I were talking and the issue of ADHD drugs came up. Apparently in Gangnam its become a trend to give kids ADHD drugs to increase performance. I was appalled so I asked for the article. Here's my quick and dirty translation:

Elementary, middle and high school students in Seoul, the surrounding areas, and the new satellite cities are increasingly taking drugs to improve concentration. These pills are prescribed for symptoms such as wandering attention and an overabundance of activity, but the mistaken rumer that "this is safe medicine to improve concentration when studying" has spread, so examples of kids without serious symptoms taking these drugs are on the rise. There are few side affects when these drugs are taken by people who have disease-like symptoms, but when normal people take these drugs regularly they can cause loss of appetite, depression, and other negative side effects, an expert warns.

Currently in Gangnam, Seoul there are about 20 hospitals and clinics perscribing this medication, the majority of which have a banner proclaiming "____ ____ studying clinic." These clinics are appearing in Seoul Gangbuk, the areas surrounding the capital, and the new satellite cities as well.

OK, I was about halfway through translating that then I found the English version of the article... One of my new year's resolutions was to read more news in Korean. So I'm glad I read the Korean version first. The problem with being decently good at Korean right now is that I have no incentive to learn more (that and I'm studying Chinese) so I really have to force myself to add to my vocabulary by reading.

Anyhoo... what I was going to say is that this article made me think of a bunch of things. First, that the competitiveness in Gangnam has gotten so bad that people will use any method they can think of to raise their child's school ranking a little bit, without thinking (or perhaps understanding) the consequences. The over-diagnosis of ADHD is a problem in the U.S. as well, but here these things quickly get out of hand because one person (mom) tells her friends that her son's scores went up because he took these drugs and without thinking everyone follows en masse. There's a pack thing that happens here that always amazes me. On top of that it feels like people look for quick fixes without really education about medicine. And doctors take advantage of those people to make money.

My other thought was of an article I read a long time ago, by James Freda, on Discourse on Han in Postcolonial Korea. In the article Freda refers to Leszek Kolakowski's idea of a "culture of analgesics" (from The Presence of Myth). I haven't read Kolajowski directly which is why I give the long explanation of how I got to it here... Anyway, Freda argues, through Kolakowski that a culture of analgesics is "hostile to the recognition and expression of suffering." We take medicine to get rid of the symptoms, without trying to correct the underlying causes. As it says in the English version of the article, the high use of drugs like Ritalin is a social problem that needs to be addressed.

More thoughts later... am behind on too many things right now.

UPDATE: My friend Emily, a child psychologist, tells me that using ADHD drugs to improve concentration in non-ADHD kids is common in the U.S. too.

Habits of Waste

2007-01-31T21:53:00.000+09:00

When my grandmother stayed with us she used to drive my mom crazy. She had trouble with the stairs, so she’d sleep in the library on the ground floor, near the kitchen and powder room. In her obsession to conserve, she never closed the door when she went to the bathroom (so she wouldn’t have to turn on the light, thereby conserving electricity) and she didn’t flush after peeing (to conserve water). My mom would yell after her, “We have guests for goodness sakes! At least close the door!”

My father-in-law is not quite that bad (though he also tends to leave the door open and neglect flushing), and he drives me crazy every time he comes over, pointing out that “That light has more bulbs and uses more electricity than the other one, so don’t use it.” He cuts their trash up into small pieces so they can fit more in each garbage bag, and he will eat spoiled food rather than throw it away. He’ll park in the first spot he comes to because he doesn’t want to waste gas.

I get annoyed by all these things, but perhaps behind that annoyance is a sense of guilt. These are people who have been trained by war and poverty to save, to conserve, to prize the efficient and proper use of things. The next generation -- my mom’s generation -- prizes convenience and efficiency. My mom doesn’t recycle because she has so little to recycle, and she throws out the trash every day, even if the bag isn’t full, because she doesn’t like the smell. She parks in the same spot at the mall every time so she doesn’t forget where her car is. She’ll ask for an extra paper cup so she doesn’t burn her hand.

We are creatures of habit, our daily activities shaping small acts of waste which accumulate in the earth invisibly, like the dark matter pair of our visible accumulation of money and goods. Living in Korea has helped shaped my awareness of my wastes in small ways; living here has helped point my mind towards waste rather than just convenience.

I have been meaning to blog about recycling here for a while, and made a mental note that others beat me to it. Seoul Man and Here in Korea both have descriptions of recycling here as well as pictures of the recycling areas in their buildings. I won’t repeat what they say except to sum up that we recycle far more here than in the States. I would be curious if anyone knows of an article about what happens to everything once its gone in the truck -- I know at UCLA, for instance, my informant tells me that the building cleaners just dump the recycling into the trash and take it all out together. Here, at least, different trucks come to get the cardboard, food trash, etc. The food trash is a bit of a pain to take out, and the containers stink, but just the act of recycling food makes me realize how much I waste (that and the high cost of food here -- if I allow something to spoil I feel both a pang of guilt and an economic pang as well). When I was back in the U.S. recently I felt so strange about throwing away food in the garbage. I had to make myself do it. It was (forgive the metaphor) like peeing in the ocean or something -- you’ve been trained to do things a certain way and it is hard to get past that training.

The counterpart to recycling here is the extra charge for take-out and bags. Every time I visit the supermarket, for instance, I bring my own bags or I have to pay for bags from the market. They cost very little, perhaps 50 won (5 cents) but just the idea that you have to pay makes me more likely to bring my own, more conscious of the fact that I am wasting when I don’t reuse my own bags. The plastic bags you get (if you do purchase one) are quite sturdy and will hold up for quite few shopping trips, unlike the plastic bags they give you at Safeway which barely make it home. I assume they make the plastic bags thin in the U.S. to create less waste, but what ends of up happening is people just double-bag. Anyway, if you go to Starbucks here and ask for a mug, there’s no extra charge. If you ask for a paper cup they charge you 50 won (5 cents). But if you bring your own mug they give you a 300 won discount (about 30 cents). That’s a huge discount, and one I take advantage of, especially since coffee costs so much more here.

I was working on my “ten things” printculture post, trying to imagine a utopian kind of future where people would wake up and start taking better care of the earth. What would push people to change their habits? Economic incentives and punishments, like we have in Korea, do seem to help train us to think a little bit differently about the small choices we make each day. But how far will that shift us into a sense of the toll we each take on the earth everyday? My friend Emily suggested that what we need is some sort of counter that reminds us as we are trying to decide whether to take the bus or sleep ten more minutes and drive to work, what that costs us in energy and fuel and pollution etc. (she said there’s a book that does this for food but it’s late and I don’t remember what it is called -- anyone?). But she was not optimistic about how much impact that device would have for the sleep-deprived person wanting a little more shut-eye and not seeing any immediate cost.

Anyway. Here are some of my resolutions for the new year as I train to be more like my father-in-law and grandmother:
1. turn out the lights I’m not using, turn of the power strips, turn off the computers.
2. use heat and air conditioning sparingly (this is much easier here since our apartment is small and we’re out most of the day. Our apartment gets a lot of heat from the sun during the winter and if I leave the windows open we get a good breeze in the summer.
3. Carry my mug with me as much as I can, carry my own cloth bags to the grocery store
4. We don’t have a dryer, which saves a lot of electricity. And we wear our clothes multiple times before washing them (most Koreans have indoor clothes and outdoor clothes, so you change clothes when you come home. So even though the city is dirty, you can keep the dirt and the dirty clothes for when you leave the house). People here, as far as I can tell, have no problem with wearing the same or similar clothes for days in a row. (My husband does it all the time, even in the U.S.!). Other than underwear and socks, and unless you do a lot of sweating, there’s really no reason to wash your jeans and shirts after each wearing.
5. Also following what it seems most Koreans do, we use rags to clean rather than paper towels. Kollae for the tables and haengju for the floors.
6. take public transportation. I used to never drive. But with Max getting heavier and the weather being cold I have been driving more. I need to go back to my old habits.
7. don’t let food spoil.
8. go through our clothes and toys and give away things we don’t need.

I'd love to hear more ideas. I just found the Treehugger site, but haven't really been through it yet... anyone have some ideas to share? Or more about recycling in Seoul?

Ah! I just posted this and I saw that oreneta has posted about switching off the electricity for five minutes on Feb 1st... I have to figure out what time that makes it here...

newsworthy

2007-01-25T08:26:00.000+09:00

I just think it is funny how condom sales keep making the news. Who keeps track of these things?

wanted: travel songs

2007-01-24T19:40:00.000+09:00

I keep remembering small things I wanted to post about. I have been feeling scatterbrained lately, and have to remind myself that I am still really tired and that this will pass.

When I was writing the "Art of Travel" essay I obsessively listened to the Pearl Jam song "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town." I have always loved that song, and wanted to capture the feeling of that moment when Eddie Vedder (sp?) shouts "I just want to scream hello!" It doesn't read well, you have to listen to the song. Although you can't tell from the finished product, most of the essays I've written have a song behind them. Sometimes the song's lyrics or content aren't related in any way to what I have written; rather it is the sort of emotional or cathartic topography of the song that helps me think about the way I want to structure something. Anyway, that song (and the essay) got me thinking about good travel songs. Here are my current ones:

Pearl Jam song "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town."
Simon and Garfunkel, "America"
Paul Simon, "Graceland"
Mountain Goats, "Going to Georgia"
more later...

The other random thing I wanted to ask: we're thinking of buying an espresso machine. Nothing too expensive. The one I've been using was only 30 bucks and has lasted four years, but keeps exploding grinds these days. I am willing to spend a few hundred dollars... maybe... actually I haven't decided yet. Any recommendations?

Where's the beef?

2007-01-24T17:00:00.000+09:00

I'm catching up on the blogs I usually read. The Marmot's hole has this fascinating post on beef prices. Friends back in the U.S.: now do you understand why we go so crazy for meat? But then can't consume very much of it (without throwing up)...

a Top Ten list...

2007-01-23T21:22:00.000+09:00

My top ten... Not really strong on global politics, but I got to put in "Who's your Mommy? And DON'T YOU FORGET IT."

That makes ME laugh, anyway.

The kids seem to be making it past 5am now, so I promise you all some actual KOREA-related stuff soon...

Jet-Lag

2007-01-19T14:55:00.000+09:00

I always tell people that traveling 14 or 15 hours on a plane with two young children is not all that difficult. With some preparation, a few good bribes, several sets of spare clothes, and an adult bribe of choice (I like caffeine and black licorice but some people prefer alcohol) you can go far. Literally. The problem is not the traveling itself, but rather the jet lag.

And that is the black hole I find myself in right now: two kids who sleep and eat at different times, who make it impossible for me to sleep, who I have to keep quiet at 3 am since we live in an apartment and I don’t want the neighbors to come bearing arms.

So forgive me for not blogging that much lately. I am too grumpy to say anything nice.

On top of that, it has probably become obvious that I have become a regular contributor over at printculture.com, and my turn is coming up next week. We’re doing a theme “top ten” two weeks and I have been racking my brains to think of something. But don’t worry, “Between pee and kimchee” is still my first blogging love, and I won’t ditch you guys for those guys. They don’t appreciate all my peeing stories like you guys do.

Once the kids get back on schedule and go back to school I’ll be back to my usual sarcastic self. I have lots of stuff I’ve been meaning to blog on. I swear on this latte.

The Art of Travel

2007-01-10T01:41:00.000+09:00

My printculture post on Alain de Botton's book The Art of Travel. Not so much a book review; more like a riff on the way I think about travel in my life.

Status anxiety

2007-01-04T12:14:00.000+09:00

Returning to the U.S. I become, in the name of "stocking up," a crazed consumer. Things are so cheap here! I spend a lot of time in Target, Safeway, Starbucks, Whole Foods, the toy store, etc. And as I eavesdrop on conversations in the name of research, I hear a lot of status anxiety. No one NEEDS to talk loudly about their new car or vacation in Cabo while in line at the register. Coming from a place where status anxiety is all out in the open, displayed through designer handbags and Prada loafers, I was surprised to find status anxiety all over the place here, in every casual conversation. People don’t seem to know how to behave towards others, especially towards clerks and salespeople. My knee jerk theory is that in Korea, status is all out in the open, and interactions are guided by status designations -- titles, verb endings, gestures, even the display of emotion. But in the U.S. everybody is suppoedly equal, and we're not used to dealing with strangers, and no one gives you props for being ... whatever you are. So I go to Target and see people (especially women) fighting over the crumbs of status, trying to get some recognition, trying to subtely and perhaps subconciously one-up the poor woman at the cash register and the other standing in line.

Back in the U.S. we are

2007-01-02T02:28:00.000+09:00

This is the first trip when I have felt more at home in Korea, and the U.S. seems strange and bizarre. Here are some things I just can't get my head around:

1. Crocs.
2. Earpiece phones. Have the Borg invaded?
3. Juicy Couture. I know this has been around for a while, but first of all, why anyone would think having stuff written across your ass is cool is beyond me, and second of all when I see a velour tracksuit I have flashbacks to my mom doing her mall-walking.
4. So many joggers!
5. a small Starbucks coffee -- only 1.50!! Wow!
6. I forgot how BIG Americans are. Not just fat, but big -- big hands, big feet, big necks. I feel so petite and skinny here.
7. U.S. suburban playgrounds -- wonderful places. Clean, well-built, not crowded. You can hear so many languages spoken. Yesterday was a cold yucky day and I heard Chinese (Cantonese and Mandarin), Russian, Spanish, Korean.
8. Why are people so incredibly rude?
9. There is something really relaxing about being back in the place where I grew up. It is so quiet here. The parking spaces are big. Driving is enjoyable. Spaces are not crowded. The aisles in the grocery store are large. I had forgotten how crazy Seoul made me in the beginning just because I wasn't used to the level of stress and stimulation of living in the city. I have gotten used to that background noise and busyness now, but when I come back here it is like being tucked into a warm blanket. Nice. Soft. Cozy. Plus all the streets are familiar; things look much the same. The same categories of people are here, but now that I've been out in the world for a bit they don't put me on the defensive. I can just observe that they are still there.

Trip of tummy troubles

2006-12-30T14:00:00.000+09:00

I haven't been posting lately. But here is a little taste of what we've been doing:

Dec 21. Finish frantic packing. Attend kids' school pagent. Hop on airport bus. Terrible traffic. Arrive at Incheon 40 min before scheduled departure. Check-in agent doubts they can get the luggage in on time, tells us we need to be at the gate by 5:20 or we're screwed (in nicer language). Luckily no one in immigration and customs, though I get stopped as always for having many tiny metal objects in my carry-on (trains, cars, etc.). KC leaves first to pick up the stuff from pre-shopped duty free. Of course our gate is the farthest away. I hold Max, pull the suitcase, Aiden pulls his and we sprint through the airport (Aiden, I have to say, is a trooper and a born athlete) and arrive at the gate soaking with sweat and panting at 5:15. I hover around the entrance blocking them from closing the gate and KC sails in at 5:18.

On plane. Serving Singapore slings (Singapore Air: love that airline). Haven't really drunk in the last 6 years, am parched from running, didn't get to have dinner before boarding as in previous plan. Tastes pretty good. 10 minutes later am drunk.

Dec 21 (U.S. time now) arrive in SFO. Due to rental car gaffe am upgraded to an Infiniti with bluetooth and GPS device. We like it. We'll take it.

Dec 22. Eat excellent Cuban food in San Jose. Declare "this is now one of my favorite restaurants!" Begin what appears to be several weeks of gluttony. Eat and enjoy to fullest extent.

That night: 10pm - 4am. Discover that after 3 years of Korean food, stomach is not able to handle other delicacies. Spend 6 hours vomiting. Did not know that it is possible to vomit that much and still be able to walk around. Did not realize how much food I had consumed. Was given opportunity to relive the night's meal over and over again. Max keeps waking up and searching the house for me, calling "Mommy where are you?" Vocal chords stopped functioning after the first hour of puking so can't respond. KC wakes up periodically and reigns him in. Our friends (whose bedroom is next to the bathroom) will never let us stay with them again.

4am scheduled departure for drive down to LA and San Diego. Am still clinging to the toilet and covered in sweat, mumbling "Please god make it stop"

7am After shower manage to regroup and hit the road.

9am Aiden throws up all over himself and car seat. We pull over by a farm in Gilroy, smell of garlic mixing with vomit. We thank the stars for wet wipes. Cover the car seat in plastic (impossible to scrub all the fabric now, can't detach it) and continue.

11am? More puking. me again. Bag leaks and our poor Infiniti is baptised yet again.

Time has no meaning. Aiden again. We decide to skip LA and head straight to San Diego.

3:30pm. Arrive in San Diego. Collapse greatfully into bed. KC hoses down the car seat.

next day or so... rest. Start feeling human. Dare to engage in a tete-a-tete with some food. Spend another sleepless night with my new intimate friend, Percy the Porcelin Convenience.

Skip to the 27th. Drive 12 hours from SD with a stop in LA to SF. Make it to within 20 minutes of our destination and Max lets loose with his share of puke. Too much, in fact, for us to clean up, so we opt to speed to my cousin's house, showing up at the doorstep demanding towels, running water, and disinfectant. His care seat gets thoroughly sanitized.

Today. Finally made it through a day with no gastrointestinal difficulty. We are leaving California, the state of Puke, and heading for Washington, D.C. -- a new time zone and a new chance at gluttony? Or at least putting some color into my cheeks again? Getting something out of the trunk of the rental car I pull a back muscle.

Somehow we make it through the flight, through getting steadily demeaned at every turn in the airport (when did Americans become so rude? And why do TSA agents feel the need to make everyone feel stupid and small?) Am now settled into my mom's place, coked up on expired Advil and immobile for the time being. Good time to update my blog, right?

Happy Holidays everyone!

a good way to give

2006-12-15T09:50:00.000+09:00

Looking for last minute gift ideas or ways to help out this time of year? Check out today's printculture article on kiva.org

Aiden

2006-12-13T11:24:00.000+09:00

Crap. I thought I was picking an unusual name. So much for that.
After growing up with such a common name, we really tried to find something uncommon. Can't tell you how many times I got e-mails intended for someone else, or how many times they mixed up my chart in the doctor's office.

text msgs

2006-12-12T22:35:00.000+09:00

November and December have been busy months. Haven't had much time to post.
I have been compiling a list of uses of cellphone text messenging... seems like a good time to post what I have so far (especially since this time of year brings SO MANY MESSAGES!)

short list of text msgs:
-results of hospital tests
-confirm appointment with doctor
-reminder of school field trip
-coordinating soccer schedules
-confirmation of receiving tuition for taekwondo
-exhortation to pray for church member who is having surgery
-notification of death/funeral
-advertisements for money loans, other spam
-message from foreign ministry about leaving the country
-reminder of elementary school, middle school, high school reuinions
-credit card charge
-notices from the government about: missing people, inclement weather, etc.
-all other social uses: "I will be late," "it was good to see you," "where are you?" "what time will you be home?" "can your kid play today?" "do you have so-and-so's number?" etc.

KC: You can’t be an adult without a cell phone. You miss too much information.
Like not wearing underwear. You can do it, but its uncomfortable.

Am sure I’m not the only one who considers this a new medium, with new grammer, abbreviations, physical skills, and a new way of tying people together.

But also new systems of doing things. Koreans don't leave voice messages, either text or call back. They don't worry so much about being on time or setting definite meeting places, because they can always call. Phones are also used to pay for things -- on public transportation, in cafes and conveninece stores.
The phone has become part of one's identity, even part of one's body. Cyborgs of the world, unite!

Interpretive Eating

2006-12-04T18:55:00.000+09:00

The new Rorschach medium: rice.

This fine one was done by Aiden. Can you guess what it is?

OBVIOUSLY it is a map of the world. He likes to say, "Mommy, I'm eating North America! I'm eating Antarctica!

That's my boy.

Here is another map of the world, this one done by me:

Those are collages of our travels around the border. You can't really see the color coded post-it flags on the map, but they're there (though Max likes to move them around). Aiden made the flags. I used to make these out of real photographs, but they curled at the edges. Now I do them on powerpoint and get them printed and laminated. Much better. Plus I like going to the office supply store. There's something very satisfying about laminating things.

Hmmm. I just re-read that last sentence. I can just hear someone screaming, "Get a life!" If I start sculpting things out of rice, I know I'm really in trouble.

co-sleeping

2006-12-04T15:52:00.000+09:00

We recently returned from a trip to Shanghai. Interesting: I can’t hit any blogger sites from there. Blocked? A problem with my Dad’s provider?

Observations of myself from this trip: you know you’ve been traveling too much when you no longer get excited or panicked about it. I used to start packing at least a week ahead of time -- not so much because of the clothes but because of all the bribes, toys, medicines, and just-in-case things needed for travel with small children. I would hide old toys away a month in advance so that I could magically produce them on the plane/restuarant/etc. and the little ones would be distracted for a little while. Now I have my systems in place: my stash of old toys, my Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase full of stickers, stamps, paper, crayons, matchbox cars, Yu-Gi-Oh cards, colored rocks, etc.; my ziplock of medicine and my first aid kit (which I carry every day anyway, complete with about 15 different types of band-aids). And my kids have been trained pretty well too; something I realized when I travelled with my in-laws recently. It was like having 2 extra kids, but kids who were not accustomed to traveling and didn’t know all the rules. KC and I have done trips together so many times that we work well as a team, communicating almost telepathically, each knowing our duties. I remember heading to the States last year; we were, as always, running late and rushing toward the gate with our friend Joe whom we happened to meet at Duty Free. No time to take off all of Max’s coats, no hands to carry them. So as soon as we got to the gate Max threw up all over himself and me (he is very sensorially sensitive, overheating makes him puke). Joe pulled back in horror and surprise as we wordlessly went to work, me quickly stripping off Max’s clothes and putting them into a plastic baggie, changing him into set of spare clothes and changing my shirt as well; KC going at it with the wet wipes, Aiden checking the status of the boarding. Five minutes later we were on the plane, leaving an impressed Joe to admire our particular version of parenting triage. (Tangentially, I brought 4 changes of clothes for Max and 1 for myself that trip, and we needed almost all of them: he vomited again on the plane and also in the car on the way to my mom’s house.)

Anyway, this was a short flight, and we go to Shanghai several times a year to visit my father who is living a truly cushy ex-pat life: nice serviced apartment, driver, the works. Basically we go to mooch and eat really wonderful food. We stuff ourselves silly, use the hotel pool, sit on a real SOFA (we only have a kid’s sofa) and CHAIRS (we sit on the floor at home). The kicker is figuring out how to fit the 4 of us on the queen-sized bed. We push one side against the wall and push a small sofa on the other side, then KC and I squeeze ourselves rather uncomfortably around the kids, trying not to move or get kicked, dealing with the small space and weird sleep effects of MSG and heavier Chinese cuisine.

One effect of moving to Korea was to “go native”: we have very little furniture. We sleep on the floor, we eat on the floor, we recline on the floor. Originally we wanted to avoid buying furniture because we only intended to live in the country for a year (we’re now 3.5 years into this adventure) and anyway our apartment is so small that it is a much better use of space to sleep/eat and then put away the “yo” (like a futon) or table and use that space for legos or train tracks. But we’ve gotten used to sleeping on the floor now and quite like it.
We are big co-sleeping people. The four of us all sleep together, kids talking in their sleep, rolling and kicking around, and occasionally peeing in the bed. On the floor we have more room to spread out (we put 2 “yo”s together), we don’t have to worry about them falling off, and movement doesn’t disturb the others as much as on a mattress. I know co-sleeping is still a matter of debate in the U.S. but I just have to jot down my thoughts on the matter.

1. It is not for everyone. I haven’t really had a good night of sleep since I had Aiden 6 years ago, but that also has to do with breastfeeding and with other work I was doing. My husband sleeps through it well though.
2. I find the arguments about co-sleeping somehow hampering the development of independence or damaging the child psychologically to be, well, bullshit. I agree with Dr. Sears on this: making the child feel safe and cared for will encourage independence. Aiden is incredibly independent, and part of that is his personality, but it is also because we make him feel safe enough to venture out and come back. KC slept with his parents and brother in one big room until he was quite old (9?) and still remembers waking up from nightmares, reaching out for his mother’s hand, and going right back to sleep. Co-sleeping is still pretty common here, for reasons of culture and space, and although I can see that there are different cultural understandings of “independence” I don’t see that they are so large that we should embrace a psychological theory that puts so much of this world into the category of deviant and psychologically doomed.
3. Personally I love sleeping with my children. We experimented with having Aiden sleep in his own room when he was young (because my pediatrician recommended it, he was anti-co-sleeping) and I got even less sleep because I was always going in to make sure he was still breathing, make sure he hadn’t been kidnapped, etc. I like having them next to me where I can see that they are safe and admire the beauty of their sleeping forms. I envy them for surrendering to sleep so completely and for being so ecstatic to wake in the morning.
4. As adults, don’t most of us prefer to sleep with someone else? Someone we love, with whom we feel comfortable and safe? Why wouldn’t that preference be stronger in children, and is preference something that needs to be weeded out from a young age?

built environment 1

2006-12-04T15:18:00.000+09:00

Walking thoughts (I was going to make this “Walking in Seoul II” but it is more like “random thoughts about the built environment”)

Me: dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, MP3 dangling from my neck. My internal beat: newly downloaded song “Naughty Girl” by Beyonce. That Beyonce, she has some talent. I can walk really fast to this music, I can shove old ladies aside with abandon. That’s the thing that sets me apart in this picture -- the way I walk. Long Stride. Brisk Gait. What they call here “씩씩해” (I love that word.) A Whatchoolookinat kind of walk.

Uneven pavement. Construction. Each street corner could potentially end your life. Delivery men on scooters who could join Cirque du Soliel with their amazing balancing acts: I’ve seen them carrying an umbrella (in the rain), talking on the cell phone, balancing hot food AND still managing to weave through traffic all at once! Now that’s skill. Of course I’ve also seen them cleaning the blood off the street and the funeral procession coming to visit the markings on the street afterwards: “feet” “head” “motorcycle.” This man, he wanted to be a writer, a street artist, he wanted to make his mark on the world. Instead his life and body are reduced to painted descriptions, to be run over again and again.

City life: what an interesting textual and sensory jungle. This new apartment building is “More Human Than Human.” (I have to remember to take a picture of that sign.) People talking loudly into their cell-phones. The smells of sewers which for some reason are always placed at intersections. Tent “restaurants” ("포장마차") set up on the sidewalks and in alleys, emitting smells of ddokboki and soju, drunken laughter and “Aigu, what is to be done. It is too difficult.” Riding the subway in the morning you can smell the garlic and alcohol seeping from the pores of barely-sober men hanging onto the handles for dear life. Jackhammers. People gently pushing and shoving their way through the crowd. Honking. Smoking. In the morning, occasionally a puddle of vomit in the sidewalk. Dogs, usually no larger than my diaper bag, wearing fancy outfits and elaborately groomed. Old men and women picking up trash.

Buildings are a jumble of signs of all colors and sizes proclaiming their contents. Samsung Tower Real Estate + phone number + 4th floor. Idea Glasses + phone number + 3rd floor. Myung-Ga restaurant + phone number + 2nd floor. Character Dentist + phone number + 1st Floor. You get the idea. It is the visual equivalent of electric shock therapy. Or perhaps an experiment: how many colors and words can this young, music-video raised generation take in at one time! This old fogey sure has had trouble. When my reading speed was slower it took me too long to sort through all the text and the stimulation so I made an effort to tune out. Now I’m better at subconscious scanning.

Why all the signs? This is a walking city. In the U.S., if you suddenly break out in hives and need to see a dermatologist you look online, or in the yellow pages, or ask your friends for the name of a good one, look up the address, and drive there. It is a goal-based drive, point to point. Here you can just walk around until you find one. That’s precisely what I did -- just walked down the block looking at the buildings until I found one a stone’s throw from my apartment. The doctor wasn’t in so I continued on across the street and found another. Walked in and had allergy medicine in no time. Back home it was the trees and grass that got to me; here it is the dust. That, perhaps, and the air pollution.

We live in Gangnam (literally “South of the river”), which was farmland before the 1970s. Now it is high rises, gridded streets, Starbucks on every block, and rows and rows of apartments. Gangbuk (“North of the river”) is the older part of the city with a labyrinth of alleys and buildings from multiple areas (the occasional colonial building, rebuilt Chosun dynasty palaces, and many buildings from the 50s on. I know pockets of Gangbuk, which is where KC grew up, but in general it confuses me geographically and architecturally.

Gangnam doesn’t look that different from parts of Eastern Europe: rows and rows of concrete apartment blocks. We live in one of those rows, in fact -- a squat, unadorned block of concrete with cracks and fading paint. The first time my parents came to visit and saw our apartment they asked, “Is this subsidized housing?” No Mom, but thanks for the compliment. The cheapest and most efficient way to build, KC reminds me, for a country with few resources to spare. (aside: Look at Malaysia, I argue. They’re building like crazy but they add a little something here and there to give the high rises some aesthetic value, and to give them the flavor of more traditional Malaysian architecture.) Here in Seoul the beautiful mountains are being raised to fill up with more ugly apartments.

Seoul is a wonderful, safe, livable city, but it is not a beautiful city. Coming from the Land of Strip Malls I don’t know if I have any right to complain about the aesthetics of Seoul, but every time I go to a city with beautiful buildings, or see any of the older temples nestled in the mountains of Korea, I wonder what Seoul would look like with just a small attention to architectural beauty and more of an emphasis on retaining some of the traditional architectural forms. Stop cutting down mountains, for goodness sake! What would Tangun say???

That was my rant about aesthetics.

Fear... again

2006-11-30T07:23:00.000+09:00

The reason for my recent silence: my fear rewrite, which has been kicking my ass lately. Warning: it is long. But not as long as it used to be.

박생광

2006-11-15T21:30:00.000+09:00

Some images of painter 박생광's work.

incredible.

Anyone know where I can get good prints of this work here? I'm still slow at searches in Korean. I've also only found one book so far, and it was quite expensive.

Bugs and parasites

2006-11-15T17:47:00.000+09:00

We have been at war with the mosquitos for weeks now. We keep thinking that soon it will be too cold for them, but they keep turning up, night after night, to torture us away from sleep. Are they living in the walls of our old building, as a friend suggested? Or coming in through some crack that I can’t find? Or infiltrating the apartment through the pipes and vents? The other night KC found a cockroach in the apartment, leading to yet another search for sources of entry or contamination. Could it be the boards rotting underneath our floor? Or somehow coming over from our neighbor’s place?

The other night I woke up twice thinking I would throw up, my mouth filled with saliva, sweating and shivering. Time to take the parasite medicine again, KC said. He grew up in a Korea where you took your parasite medicine once a year and they regularly examined students’ stools in school to make sure none of them had worms. Parasites, it seems, were a big problem back then. My in-laws, through habit, still take the medicine once a year, and the pediatrician tested my son for parasites at one point, so I guess the problem hasn’t really gone away.

After writing the above, I wondered if in fact taking parasite medication was a habit of older people, leftover from older times, so I asked around and found that it is still fairly common to take the medicine twice a year, at spring and fall. I even asked my pediatrician, who suggested that the whole family should take the medicine together spring and fall. She said that parasites are still commonly transmitted in schools. Eek.

I have gotten used to the idea of infestation and parasites, though they are still disturbing. I think of my experiences with bugs back home: ants, silverfish (in MD) and ladybugs (Ann Arbor). Lice and ticks were the big parasite-ish worry when I was young. I remember coming home from playing outside and having my mom comb through my hair, checking for lice and ticks.

I can no longer write the word “parasite” without thinking of William H. McNeil’s book Plagues and Peoples, a fascinating history of disease, or rather, a re-reading of history through the lens of disease. McNeil uses the term macro-parasitism to refer to the way in which the aristocratic land-owning class lived off the labor of the lower classes. Something one could feel easily here, I think, where there is such a sense of the privilege of the rich, where getting a job or finding out where the next subway station will be constructed is such a function of who you know, where you went to school, who your parents were, and how much money you have.

Bugs and parasites: interesting images of infiltration, of the enemy within, of danger lurking under the surface, of the mystery of our own bodies working against us. I don’t know if men feel this way, but it bothers me a lot that I don’t know what’s going on in my body. A friend recently had a miscarriage; her baby had died weeks before it was detected and she was so upset that she had been walking around, happily unaware that while she was preparing and glowing at the thought of a new child that child was already dead inside her. I understand that feeling; I remember seeing that ultrasound of the baby, heart beating, growing next to my ovary and threatening to rupture. How could I not know? How could I have packed those boxes, prepared my maternity clothes, wondered idly whether it was a boy or girl and not known that this wanted being was in danger and endangering me?

Time to go take the parasite medication. At least we don’t have bedbugs, like in New York. New Yorkers: stay home. I have enough bloodsucking bugs and parasites to deal with here.

Currently listening to: Beastie Boys Whatcha Want?