Hello again, fellow Xangans!  I've definately been MIA for awhile now, but hopefully that's over. 

Why, you may ask?  

We're officially back in the United States now!  What a crazy, growing, unbelievable ride this whole experience has been.  Looking back through all the highs and lows, I've decided that I wouldn't trade a thing.  Except maybe the Triquilar debaucle (the prescription drug backed by Lucifer himself), but that's a whole different story for later.  : ) 

This whole "coming-back-to-the-life-I-always-knew" thing is proving to be both a little more normal AND weird than I ever would have thought possible. 

Paradoxical? A bit.  But then again, so am I.  ; )

I'm surprised at how normal and usual everything is.  Seeing family and friends again didn't have any of the usual awkward "get to know each other again" tensions.  There was no catching up on events missed during the time spent apart, no "feeling out" who people have become and how they've changed, no updating each other on all the little details. 

Strange- eeee.  Very strange-eeee. 

Which brings me to how coming back has been so weird!  Certain things about Korea I completely fell in love with, and knew I would miss.  (Kimchee, HoDok, Ramyun, DokGuk, BiBimBap, Bulgogi, incredible hospitality, beautiful scenery, and a fantastic lifestyle, just to name a few.)  Certain things I knew I would be glad to leave behind.  (Social ranking systems based on age/gender/job, our evil director JohnShin, lack of readily available "breakfast" foods.)

Countless things have taken me by surprise, though.

I'm surprised that I still use my right hand for everything.  When I hand someone a glass, I only use my right hand.  When someone hands me the newspaper, I only use my right hand (if not both).  What's gotten REALLY embarassing, though, is interacting with cashiers. 

When I hand them money (which, by the way, seems really small, weird, and looks totally different than what I'm used to....), I naturally hold the cash in my right hand and reach my left hand up next to my forearm to "support".  (If this sounds awkward, it's because it is... until you get used to it.)  This usually startles the aforementioned cashier, making them thing that I have some serious social issues, and thus ruining any chance of normal interaction or exceptional service for the duration of the encounter. 

If you want to practice this unique tactic for branding yourself a dirty weirdo (at least in the States), hold your right arm down at your side and bend it forward at a 90 degree angle.  Then reach your left arm across your body and touch your fingers to your forearm.  This signifies respect in Korea.  The closer the support arm is to the right hand, the more respect you have for the person you are handing something to.  The farther away it is, the less you respect them.  No arm support?  That's pretty much public disgrace.  People do NOT respond kindly.  That's why we learned it and practiced until it was second nature! 

The only problem with things being second nature, though, is that it's next to impossible to break the habit. 

Take bowing, for instance.  In Korea, you bow to almost everyone.  You bow to old people, to those better-off economically, to people in positions of power, when meeting new people, when saying hello, when saying goodbye, when saying thank-you, and whenever someone is looking at you.  Basic idea:  there's a LOT of bowing that goes on. 

Trouble is, I can't stop bowing now. 

When I meet new people, I bow.  Saying thank you to the cashier at the coffee shop or grocery store?  I bow.  Without fail, everytime I see someone older than me, I bow.  Running into someone who seems friendly and smiles?  I bow.  Seeing someone who looks like a potential new friend?  Yep- more bows.

I didn't even like bowing in the first place!!  Why in the world can't I kick this habit to the curb now that I'm back in the US? 

It's getting desperate now.  C'mon... who really wants to be friends with the girl who can't stop bowing and does some strange motion everytime she has to pay for something?  ;)

Money is also hard for me.  Apparently, some U.S. government office thought it would be a good idea to issue a bunch more new quarters AND nickels in the last few months.  (Who really thinks it's a good idea to issue two new coins at the same time, especially when they look so darn much alike?)  This may not seem like such a big deal to some of you out there, but to a person readjusting to unfamiliar currency, this creates an enormous challenge.

An example?  I found myself at a UPS store the other day.  Everything was going smoothly until I was standing at the counter to pay and the total was $5.66.  The five dollars was easy:  66 cents to go.  The penny was easy, too:  65 cents left.  Then I was left standing at the counter, desperately trying to figure out whether I had any quarters or nickels.

Since I had plenty of silver-looking pieces, I knew I could cover the tab.  (That and the fact that I had plenty more bills in my wallet.)  But I was trying to use up my change!  Looking totally daft, I mumbled something about how "quarters and nickels just don't look how they used to", and something to the effect of "just moving back the country", but to no avail.  The once jovial UPS man had disappeared and left a leering, unhelpful man in his place.  I had officially been branded a "crazy". 

Needless to say, adjusting back to life in the States has been quite the experience.  If nothing else, I'm learning alot about humility.  (C'mon, now.  It's tough to be proud when you can't tell nickels from quarters!)  It's also been amazing to spend time with family and friends again, not to mention the joy that I have at NOT be the fattest person around (at 5'7'' and 140 lbs), at being in a place where green eyes are normal, and the knowledge that perfect strangers won't feel me up in a grocery line. 

At least not without legal recourse.  : )

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Hopefully I'll be able to post more regularly again, which should be good since there's plenty more Korea and adjusting-to-life-in-a-new-yet-old-in-a-paradoxical-kind-of-way-country stories to come.  

It's definately good to be back. 

I was reading through the Sharingan's blog tonight, and it made me laugh out loud.  Seriously.  So many aspects of it reminded me of my time here in Korea. 

One thing she mentioned in particular stood out to me above the others:  "being stared at, especially by old ladies, as if I was a monkey that somehow escaped its cage and began to walk about and dress in clothing". 

So true! 

After a while living in Korea, I began to feel like a celebrity.  No matter what I do, I am FASCINATING.  People stop what they are doing to gaze at me, conversations pause as I walk by, and I'm greeted with breathless "hellos" wherever I go. 

At first, this behavior was mostly strange and funny.  But the more I became settled (and desired to "fit in" a bit), the less I appreciated it.  C'mon... does anyone REALLY want a spotlight on them wherever they go when they have a huge zit in the middle of their face?   

I should think not.

My unique celebrity staus isn't always bad.  On those aforementioned "zit" days, people here still think I'm beautiful.  They tell me so every couple of minutes, in fact.  Zit or no zit, they seriously don't care.  (It took me a long time to really accept this as reality.  It's just not how things work back at home...) 

Koreans seem generally fascinated by my body.  Though I'm by no means tall (5'7''), I'm markedly taller than most Korean women (especially the older ones).  And far from perfect though they are, my teeth (straightened from 4 torturous years of orthodontics) are next to heavenly to many people here.  My skin, definately not ideal (thanks to switching medications and having my hormones screwed with), is awe-inducing here.  Men and women alike will drop what they are doing to come up and stroke and rub my face.  Sweet?  I suppose.  Creepy?  Just a touch. 

One of my favorite things to watch, though, is when Koreans notice my eyes.  Unlike everybody here (who has brown or black eyes), my eyes are a bright green.  (In the States I would call them "hazel", but I'm not really kidding anyone.  More times than I care to recall, my eyes have been deemed "cat eyes"- the one animal I truly care naught for.)  During class, students will stop speaking midway through a resonse, drop their jaw, and exclaim over the color of my eyes.  "Teacher!  Your eyes are..... suprising!"  "Oooo.  *deep sucking in of breath and pointing at my face*  Not black!"  "Fake eyes!  Beautiful!  Teacher famous!"  A personal low (even though it was meant as a compliment, as I was later told) was, "Frog eyes!  Frog eyes!" 

Apparently, green eyes and some lengthy lashes are all you need here to be a showstopper.  Nice! 

Long considered a brunette (at most during the summer, a "dirty blonde"), here people talk about my hair like it's so blonde it's almost white.  (Picture Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, or Jessica Simpson color hair.)  Some of my students (and occasionally women at the market, on the subway, or at my appartment complex) will just stop me to touch my hair.  Yeah, a little bit on the creepy side also. 

Not as creepy as having people grab my chest, though. 

Yeah, you read that right.  This has happened on multiple occasions to me.  Just walking to work one day, I was accosted my an elderly woman.  She seemed sweet, but began to honk and prod as if my chest was comprised of two mangos she was about to buy at the store rather than actual attatched, tender body parts. 

Then there was the time that another elderly lady reached out and started poking my chest to watch it jiggle in the elevator.  Let me tell you all, it's a long ride to the 10th floor when someone's jabbing at your jubblies. 

The coup de gras, however, was the sceen-stopping attention I received when I went to a sauna with my friend Kim Ah Rom (nicknamed Romi) and my husband.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Korean sauna setup, it's basically the Roman baths you learned about in high school history, but with Chinese medicine.  Co-ed sauna rooms of mud, charcoal, chinese medicine, bamboo mats, hundreds of heated ceramic balls you lay in, and a freezing cold room.  There are also gender segreated shower rooms that have fountains, pools, showers, exfoliating stations, salt baths and scrubs, massages, and steam treatments that you partake of naked. 

Yes.  Completely nude, no clothing, naked-as-a-jay-bird, party-in-your-birthday-suit naked.  With complete strangers.  All of whom stop whatever they are doing just to watch me.  

Though this probably sounds horrifying, it actually gets worse.  As I mentioned before, Korean women are small.  They're short, skinny, little-boned, and their chests are pint-sized, too. 

This is a little awkward considering I'm a fairly tall blond haired, green eyed white girl with an athletic build, am big boned, and have a considerably less-small chest than any Korean I've ever met. 

And all their attention falls on naked, ole' me.  Me and my oh-so-different body.  I understand how bacteria must feel when they're under a microscope (if bacteria have feelings, that is), or celebrities being hounded by the paparazzi. 

I opted to pretend like nothing was wierd or different, and hope they would all get the hint and stop looking at me.  Isn't that what mom's have been teaching for ages?  "When something's bugging you, ignore it- and it will go away."  Right? 

Wrong.  A group of women from the other side of the sauna approach my friend and I.  A few of them take the demure approach, asking my friend polite questions about me while blatantly oggling my jubblies.  The eldest of them all, a spry lady of almost 80 years old standing at approximately 4 feet tall, could take no more of the small talk.  Her hand darted foward.  Before I knew it, I was being felt-up by someone's grandma. 

Shocked and unable to say anything, I said nothing.  I just stood there.  This, as it soon became apparent, was the wrong decision.  The entire pack of women took my silence as an open invitation.  EVERYONE began grabbing my chest, poking at my thighs, rubbing my stomach, and touching my face.

All that to say, I get I get a little attention here. 

Perhaps the most strange thing of all?  This whole thing has come full circle on me: I am one of the people who stops and stares at the "weh gooks" (foreigners) now.  When Jeff and I go out, we're acustomed to only seeing Asian faces.  We thing nothing of it- it's become normal to us.  The other day shopping, however, we ran into a tall, white guy.  A TALL, WHITE GUY!  Jeff and I stopped, turned in our tracks, and just kind of watched him.  Unabashed staring.  How's THAT for the pot calling the kettle black? 

I guess we'll have a bit of adjusting to do when we get back Stateside.  Lots of differences all around- beautiful diversity!  I just hope people will give us a little grace when our jaws drop and we stare, just like I had to do with the ajumas ("aunties") grabbing  at my goods. 

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One final thought!  For those of you who haven't heard the good news yet, my pretty-stinking-incredible and funny new sister-in-law just got sucked in to the world of Xanga!  She's got some quality stuff- you're just hurting yourself and missing out if you don't stop by to see!  Remember, you heard it here first!  (Okay, okay!  You heard it here second.  But only because my husband went around the entire World Wide Web pimping her site.) 

Though I know many people despise them, I've long been a fan of staff meetings.  Everybody coming together to share ideas, working for the common good, and getting loads of stuff accomplished that might have otherwise taken ages.  Keeping lines of communication open, making sure every member of the team is on the same page about important organizational developments.  Creating space for feedback and buy-in.  Really, now... what's NOT to love? 

Alot, as I realized today.  At least if you work where we do. 

Why, you may ask?  Here's the scoop.  We're supposed to report to work at 2:30 every Monday so we can have staff meetings.  One hour each week to create open communication and increased understanding- awesome. 

Except for the fact that all of us usually get there right on the button, and the boss isn't anywhere to be found.  In fact, the majority of Mondays he doesn't even show up.  At all.  As in, all day, no boss. 

For some of the teachers, this isn't such a big deal- we have to be at school an hour before classes everyday and most classes start at 3:30.  Works out just fine for them, boss or no boss. 

Not so for me.  My classes start considerably later.  And who REALLY wants to sit around work killing a few hours because her boss didn't have the courtesy to show up for scheduled meetings or cancel them in advance?  Certainly not me!   

I bring this bit of history up for a very specific, irritating reason.  Jeff and I showed up at 2:34 today for report time.  (A fiasco with a cab ride from across town pushed our timing back a bit.)  Sure enough, the one day we're late, there WAS a staff meeting.  Even more ironic, it actually started on time. 

No matter.  Jeff and I quietly joined the group which was still in the initial greeting stage of the meeting.  Normally (by normally, I mean every other time), this wouldn't have been a big deal.  Today was different, though.

The boss was in rare form.  As we entered the room, the boss made a HUGE show of grunting and pouting while pointing at the clock, making sure that everyone fully understood that it was 2:34 instead of the mandated 2:30 report time. 

I know some of you out there are starting to side with the boss as you think about all your co-workers who are chronically dashing in late, never being on time for anything.  I promise you- I understand.  In business settings, I tend to side with Vince Lombardi:  if you're not 15 minutes early, you're late.  (My dad is smiling right now, I just know it!)  I've made it a point in my (albeit short) professional career to always be on time, if not early, to work.  Even being uber careful, though, sometimes things happen that throw a wrench into the plan.  (One MAJOR wrench being taxi service in Korea.) 

Truthfully, though, is the boss, the man who always is late or just doesn't show period, in ANY position to be throwing a tantrum over 4 minutes?

No.  No he is not.  But, I digress.

As the boss was still guffawing about us being 4 minutes late, Jeff apologized profusely for any inconvenience we may have caused and explained the aforementioned taxi issue.  Completely unsatisfied, the boss begins to mutter semi under-his-breath about how he's going to "make us pay" for being late.  (Not in the gangster "I'll-pound-you-flat" kind of way, but a literal "I'll-garnish-wages" kind of way.  Less threat of bodily injury, but still no fun at all.)

Whatever.  He can have the 1,000 won (approximately 96 cents) for our 4 minutes of tardiness. 

Though irritating in the moment, it actually was a pretty funny situation:  a grown man acting like a cow in labor (there were some serious gestures going on, not to mention the sound effects) over people coming 4 minutes late to the meet-and-greet phase of the meeting. 

Once the meeting got going, though, the entertainment value went throught the roof.  Item number one on the agenda was "happy learning". 

Yes, it sounds nice on the surface- but don't be deceived.  What this really means is leaving five minutes at the end of a 45 minute class to play happy review games with students (so they'll forget how much they hate class and keep coming back) after kicking their ass the entire class long. 

And that's a literal ass-kicking.  Not figurative. 

Which brings us to a subpoint on agenda item 1:  scare the students with extreme anger.  Yes, I kid you not.  Apparently, when students don't do their homework , get less-than-perfect test scores, or just act like kids (basically, anything that bugs teachers or can be construed as "bad attitude"), it's the teacher's job to scare the heck out of them.  We "fail the students if we do not make them fear us".  (Yep, direct quotes here.)  Plus, our "anger motivates them... they need it".

I guess I shouldn't really have been surprised about all that, considering how the boss had given me a wooden club the width of my arm and the length of a put-put golf club and told me to beat my students with it a few months prior.  (Don't worry- I didn't do it.  I told him I couldn't, and that I'd try what he called "less effective methods" like having kids stay late, or giving them extra homework.  His rationale on the beat-stick?  "Discipline without the stick takes time and effort.  And we don't want to do that to ourselves now, do we?")

It was just surreal to sit in a meeting being counseled to both scare the living daylights out of kids, and then try to smooth things over with a game of hangman.  Unbelievable.

What was also really funny about the whole meeting was the lack of anything accomplished, learned, or communicated.  The boss kind of used the hour to just talk about himself, how kind he is ("everybody knows it"), and how he really is a truly sacrificial, just, and adept leader.  No communication about new programs, classes, guidelines, nothing. 

We always find out about that later... on the PAWB. 

As you may have guessed, PAWB is a clever acronym for "passive agressive white-board".  This allows Jeff and I to discuss our boss' communications tactics in the office without his knowledge.   

As can be deduced by the name, the PAWB is a square foot sized white-board that is hung in the most obscure corner of the entire school where it's pretty much guaranteed that nobody will lay eyes on it. 

On this board, the boss occasionally posts "orders" (his term for anything he wants changed or done).  Each order is usually written in the most offensive tone possible, and deals with topics that could be easily resolved in a 2 minute, face-to-face conversation.  (Ex:  "Hey, Liz... could you make sure to give extra homework on Friday?"  "Sure, boss.  I was accidentally doing that on Thursday, but I'll definately change now."  Problem:  solved.) 

The best part about the PAWB?  We're held responsible for what's written on it even if we haven't seen it.  (We found out about this about 4 months into teaching here when we got in trouble for not acting on the PAWB message.  At that time, though, we didn't even know there WAS a PAWB.  Argh!)

In case the boss wants to shake things up a bit, he might try one of his other two means of communication:  a quick note written on a tiny piece of scrap paper and shoved under a pile of recycling papers, or posting a small note on the wall behind the aforementioned recycling stack.  Like with the PAWB, teachers are held accountable for whatever material he threw out there- whether we saw it or not. 

One of my BAs is in Organizational Communications (basically, a weird way to say "business communications").  This definately doesn't mean that I'm a perfect communicator (ask my husband... I bet he could share some stories!) , but it DOES mean that I know at least a little bit about good and bad communication styles.

It also means I get all fired up about "the priciple" that he's a poor leader and how ineffective his communication style is.  (It's not a cultural thing, either.  None of the Korean teachers "get" him, either.  And most Koreans are very kind, logical, sensitive communicators.) 

Maybe more than anything, it makes me more aware of what I'm missing: egalitarian staff meetings, clear communication, and admirable leadership. 

But then again, maybe that doesn't exist anywhere (except my utopian dreams, of course).  Maybe the hardest part is the whole principle of not really knowing what to expect. 

At least I know one thing to expect from staff meetings in the States, though:  I'll never be handed a beat stick to use as a motivational tool. 

And I have to admit, there's something really comforting in that.