Sentimental Sweetness

When I was a little girl, my mom made me these Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls (complete with the embroidered heart that says, "I love you"). This week I took them to the dry cleaner across the street and he fixed their little button eyes and put a few stitches here and there where they had popped their seams. Then he gave them a good washing. I love my dolls. Aren’t they precious?

No Car Day

Do you ever feel like this motorcycle?
Twice a week, Jim takes the car to work; today just so happened to be his day to drive and so I was left without a car. I’ve been dreading the “no car” day. The main reason is, since we moved into our place the walk to school is about ten minutes longer and it’s just too cold for Maggie. I usually drive (the hill is not nearly as steep in the car) and I try to look at the bright side and figure I will be getting exercise that otherwise won’t happen. So, I bundle everyone up, sling Maggie on my back in a carrier and head out. It is so blasted cold out there! Whoa! Chicago, look out. It is 15 F and Margaret starts crying, James starts crying. I rummage around in my pockets for some leftover money and look for a cab going my direction. No luck. We keep walking. They keep crying. People stare. Finally we get to the “hill” and there are a bunch of cabs coming down. I open the door and the cab driver shakes his head, “No”. I think, “No? You’re a cab. You can’t be partial” (He didn’t want to go back up the hill and wait in the long line of cars. It wasn’t worth his money). The car behind the cab motions to me that he will help. It’s not a cab, but I open the door and a middle-aged Korean man waves me on. I open the back door. Tell the three girls to get in, hand the money to Gracie and tell her to call me when she gets to the school knowing full well that she has no idea what our phone number is; I barely know what our phone number is. I slam the door. Maggie and James are still crying, and I stand there shocked at what I have done: put my kids in the car of a strange middle-aged foreign man and hope that he’s good and honest. I start to cry. Maggie is screaming now. I run home holding James hand.
Yes, the man was good and honest. Ask the girls for their side of the story; it’s actually endearing and complimentary to the Korean people- or at least that Korean man who helped us out.

Zero

Yesterday, Jim and I went to the bank so that we could put me on Jim's bank account and get me an ATM card for "our" account. I was anxious to have a little bit of control of the money situation since I spend most of it. We go in; I sign documents for about an hour and Wa La. I have my ATM card. Jim runs on ahead of me because he’s got another appointment and I walk over to the ATM machine to withdraw some cash. Insert my card, ignore all the Korean and push the withdrawl button. The nice bank employee who has been helping me stands nearby and watches me push the $ 300 button. Nothing happens. She shakes her head, “You have zero”. What? Then she points at my balance. A big fat zero. Unbeknownst to Jim and me, we had just spent an hour opening my own brand new and empty account. I don’t make a whole lot of money and it showed on my balance. Jim had to go back to the bank later that day and spend another hour transferring money into my account. All thanks to the tower of Babel.

This is a picture of my pass book. I don't know a thing it says, except zero.

Neutral

The other day I rushed out of the house to go to Costco. I was running late and really hurrying with the two little ones. I got into my car and opened the garage. Much to my surprise there was a car parked cross-wise in front of me. Great! My only hope was to “sign” to the dry cleaning man across the street that I needed that car moved and hope that he knew whose car it was. I loaded the kids in the car and ran across the street. The dear, sweet dry cleaning man thought that I was there to pick up my dry cleaning and handed me a huge stack of clothes and cleaned me out of all of the cash I was carrying. Okay, that didn’t work. I ran the clothes up to our place and tried again. This time I walked him across the street and showed him my car and the other car. “I need to leave”, I said as slowly as I could. “Ahhh” was his reply and he pointed down the street and then ran in that direction. Very soon after, the car was moved. Okay, now I was late. “Who parks in front of a closed garage?” I think to myself.
Costco was very hectic. I walk out with two full; no, “over-full” Costco carts, Maggie wandering aimlessly (there was no room for her in the cart), and James running full speed ahead doing his usual “kick whatever I see” move. I’m exhausted. When I see my car, my mouth drops. A whole line of cars are parked cross-wise in front of it. I am completely boxed in! What? I look at the Korean man that is helping me out. He looks as calm as ever. Feeling very trapped I stand there bewildered. The nice Korean Costco worker simply walks behind the car that is boxing me in and pushes it ever so slightly. The car rolls forward. He does the same thing to three or four other cars. Waa, La.
Cars are allowed to box you in if they are left in neutral so they can be “tipped” around the parking lot. Who knew neutral could be useful? I don't think I've ever used neutral in all my life.

(These are pictures of the street in front of my place.)

Mountains: Part II

It was this last transition; from our friend’s house to our place that has been the most difficult by far. Tuesday, Jim and I cleaned our place. It was like wiping out the inside of a chimney. For some reason the windows were open when we arrived and we assume they have been open for most of the last year. I had heard that the pollution of Seoul is something to be concerned about; wiping soot off of my floor and countertops brought new meaning to the breathing masks that children and adults are wearing around town. “Should we wear them too?” I wonder when we are out and about walking. We did buy two air purifiers for our place.
Friday, the movers came into our lovely, clean, and empty apartment, took out our dining room window and started to lift all of my belongings up a huge ladder-lift and into my home. I have been so overwhelmed with my life and now the boxes of stuff that my five children have been opening and throwing around our home much, much faster than I can find a place for it has just about pushed me completely over the edge. Endless mounds of toys and clothes and papers and books. How can there be this much stuff? I have cried and cried. I have yelled. And under it all I have had these huge fears that if I put my stuff away and settle here, how and when will I ever get back to the states? Putting my things away here makes it all real and I’m just not so sure I want this to be real. I guess its all part of the transition and not knowing the end makes it tough to accept. It’s been a mountain.
I am over half done unpacking; my place is beginning to feel like home. Each box I unpack is so full of memories of my family and friends I almost feel like they might come walking in on me and see me thinking about them. I can smell Lake Michigan, or the woods of Walden Pond, or the Mountains of Utah. It is all around me, even the children feel it. With this dear familiarity the anxiety and fear is subsiding.

Last night I asked my children to share their interpretation of the best and worst of Korea:
The best
Gracie: Unpacking all my stuff: like my stuffed animals, books and treasure box
Miri: Yummy rice-cake cookies that only cost 1,700 won.
Anna: Bailey Morris is here at Korea
James: To go upstairs and sleep in it
Jim: A real job
Maggie: Having my own room
Mom: The people are patient and kind

The worst
Anna: At school when you play tennis with balloons this girl was bossing me so I finally got brave enough to say “This is just for fun, calm down” – and she did.
James: We never lived here in our whole entire life. (Amen to that James)
Miri: School is twice as far away.
Gracie: Crowded streets and zooming cars.
Maggie: Marble floors.
Daddy: Still in boxes
Mom: It’s often not what you think it is, i.e.: oven, washer/dryer, beds, tortilla chips etc….and if you can’t plug it in, you can’t use it. Think about that one next time you use something plugged in.

Mountains: Part I

Seoul has beautiful mountains. They are impressive and they can be grueling. When I was a young, I lived on a mountain. Some of my friends lived higher up on the mountain than I did and sometimes (not very often) I would walk to their houses. Those hills were steep. That is what the hill is like where the girls go to school. Straight up. For the last week, I have put Maggie in the stroller, James on the buggy-board and with the three girls straggling behind I have struggled up that mountain to the great gates where the Korean guards manage the traffic of little foreign children who attend this school. As I wind my way up the hill, slowly but surely I have been so impressed with the cars that whiz by. Not all, but most of them are the most beautiful cars that I have ever seen. Long, sleek, black Mercedes manned by the family driver or chauffeur. The culture of the school has impressed me. It is, like everything else very foreign to me, and a culture of its own inside of the Korean culture. I have asked myself, “How do I fit into this Mountain of Seoul? And maybe the most important question of all, “What will be its effect on my children?”

The Where and the Why

Seoul Day 4: January 6, 2008
Sunday began at 3:30 a.m. for me. When I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep this time I felt completely desperate. I was so tired. This anxiety just made my insomnia worse. I tried everything to get myself to rest. I ate a piece of toast, cried, prayed. Nothing helped and as time moved on without me sleeping I just got more anxiety. I had so many worries going through my head—the heat in the apartment, how would we get that fixed? The first day of Church, how would we get there (we have no car and seven of us is a bit crowded for a cab)? When does church start? Where is it? Where am I? I haven’t yet looked at a map to see exactly where I fit into the whole “Seoul” picture. I know that I am north of the Han River. My thoughts and worries mounted. I worried about the girl’s first day of school—what would they wear? What would I pack in their lunch? Where is it? I worried about Jim’s visa and our U.S. bank account, our minivan that hasn’t been shipped to the people who bought it and is sitting in our landlord’s driveway in Boston right now, driving her nuts. I was completely overwhelmed with worry. At about 5:00 a.m., I started hearing the insomniac/jet lag stirrings of my three year old. So Sunday for me began at 3:30 a.m.
No matter where I am or what time of the day Sunday starts, it’s probably the toughest day of the week for me. The task of getting me dressed up to look my best is just too much work let alone getting all five children in tow. Then there is the usual Sunday morning bickering and boredom. Now, living out of stale suitcases in a strange place I couldn’t even bear to think about doing the Sunday Sumba. Somehow, I put myself into automatic pilot and in spite of my oncoming migraine we crammed into a cab and rode the fifteen minutes to church. And, as if by a miracle, the same thing happened there in that little chapel in Seoul that that has happened to me in so many other chapels in the world on Sunday. I felt the love of God for His children. I felt His guiding hand and caring eye and I wept.

Geo Ville 401 A

Seoul: Day 3--January 5, 2008
Saturday Jim and I spent most of the day in our soon-to-be home. It is a newly constructed condominium or “villa” in a building that has three other villas. Our villa is on the top floor. It is really quite lovely. It has marble floors and great big windows. It seems “happy”, I guess if you can say that about a completely empty home.
When I first went to see our place I was alone with Kang, the kind Korean driver (Friday, remember?) He couldn’t find it. He stopped to ask for some directions and I noticed a street with a church on it. I looked down the street and said to myself, “Wouldn't it be nice if I could live on that street”. Kang returned to the car, looked around and then turned down that street. My villa is at the top of it. The view from our front windows is that street, the church and the little shop where Kang asked for directions.
On Saturday, for part of the time we were at our place with a “furniture man”. He is a very kind and patient Korean man named Mr. Kim. He brought with him these three gigantic furniture books that we looked through with him and my ever kind and helpful neighbor, Jenny (my so-called translator). I would pick something and then he would go into the corresponding room and measure to see how it would fit. He accommodated my indecisiveness so graciously. Finally, we were able to decide on fourteen pieces (remember I shipped next to nothing). He delivered them last night. They are wonderful and fit each respective room so nicely. I had fun “shopping” for furniture right inside of my place. It was a bright and happy moment full of hope that I would have a place that I could call my own again and unpack my suitcases!
Side note: We spent about two hours there shopping, for some reason the heat wasn’t working yet and it was so cold. At times we could see our breath.

Jim's Version

Here is Jim's version of Seoul, Day 1. Compare it to mine. He's so mellow. Could anything stress him out? If this didn't, I don't think anything would. I guess you could say we are like fire and ice, I explode and he's just chill.

"This story is one for the journal. We landed in Seoul on January 2nd 2008 for me to start my new job at SKK GSB. We arrived very tired after a long 20+ hour no sleep trip with James and Margaret quite sick. We finally made it to Shad and Mindy Morris’ house where we were staying for the next few days until we could get our stuff out of customs and get settled in our own place.
I met our office admin the morning of the 3rd so that we could go to the immigration office and get my resident card (the magic card that allows us to get a bank account, get insurance, etc.). I watched as the conversation between the office admin and the government worker turned from bad to worse. Despite being told that I could get the E-1 visa for visiting professors while here in Seoul, it became clear (in spite of the language barrier) that this was not the case. I now needed to fly out of the country to apply for the visa. The office admin decided Japan was good enough and called me an hour later with this information, “when you land take the Nanki train to the Namba station. Then take a cab to the Nikko Hotel but don’t stay there, find a cheap hotel right by the Nikko. The Korean consul is very close. To get to the airport in Inchon, take the bus down the street from your place to the airport.” I scribbled these instructions down. I knew that these key words would be all I had to get me where I needed to be in yet another foreign country. When my wife found out about this abrupt change of plans, she fell apart. Nevertheless, I grabbed my paperwork, a pair of underwear, a toothbrush and my wallet and got on the bus. At the airport, I handed my passport to the check-in clerk. It was then that I found out I was going to Osaka Japan. After an hour and a half plane ride, I landed in Osaka. There I followed the little train icons through the airport to a train station. I bought a train ticket to Namba (just like my scratch piece of paper told me to) and climbed aboard. The soft rocking of the train quickly lulled me to a sleep which I was trying to fight off for fear that I would miss my stop. Fortunately, I didn’t miss it. I got off the train, walked through a cavernous underground mall, found an exit and got in a cab. The driver milked me for $10 for what I found out the next day was a 5 min walk. I got out at the Nikko and walked away from the busy road. I asked a young man if he knew a cheap hotel. He pointed off in the distance and said something I did not understand. I started walking in the direction he pointed. I turned around and asked the next person I saw coming my way the same question. It turned out to be the same guy this time on his bike. He took out a fancy cell phone and looked up the prices of hotels in the area (cell phones are much more advanced than US technology). He points again in the same direction this time actually at the hotel.
I bargain the price down from $85 to $60. The room is very small but very clean. I quickly fall asleep. Waking up early I get ready and hurry down to the desk asking directions to the Korean consulate. It is just down the street. I walk there and ask guards what time it opens. They say 9 Am. I scouted the walking route to the train station to be ready for my return trip. I wait for 9 AM. New guards now say it opens at 10. I wait and walk some more. New guards say it opens at 11 Am. I wait and walk some more. As the metal gate opens I run down and luckily get the 1st number. I hand in the form and the lady says to come back in 2 days. At this point I was desperate, I tell her that I need to get it done today; I had a return flight at 5 PM and a wife and five kids waiting for me in Korea. She says if she is not busy she will try to get it done and to come back at 3 PM. I find a seat and wait and watch. I pray that it will not be busy. There a hundreds of people but very few applying for visas. At 1:30 she waves me down and gives me my visa. Yes. I run to the train, ride to the airport to try to get an earlier flight. The only flight out does not leave for 2 hours so I get a bowl of beef curry (my favorite dish I ate in Japan when I traveled there with my family when I was 14 years old.) It was great.
Plane to bus and finally home (or at least where my family is)."

Costco In Detail

Here are some interesting details about my Costco experience. The Costco here is multilevel. It goes like this: a very crowded parking garage underneath the ground, a textile floor, and a food floor with check out. I was filled with relief at how familiar everything was! Whew! Big carts, same floor to ceiling stocking, lots of American products, even a similar food court. I had a huge smile on my face as I showed the man my card to get in. It all felt familiar. All the same, there were a lot of things that were different, that I didn’t expect. Due to my naiveté or my ego centrism, again, you pick; I was expecting that Costco would be filled with Americans. Not so. I was the only American in the entire store. I also expected everyone to speak English; again, not so. I think I shocked everyone with my massive purchase. Mostly the cashier; I had to pay completely cash/won (yes, just like the Costco in the states, they accept only cash or a special debit card that I don’t have.) Since the biggest won is equivalent to a $10 bill, I had 70 bills that I was counting out at the check-out with sweat dripping down my face. I totally had sensory overload. I felt like all eyes were on me (if the shoppers thought this was entertaining, just wait until I have all five children in tow). Thankfully, Kang was loading my enormous buy and my compassionate neighbor, the interpreter, insisted on going with me. She helped with the communication along with looking for boxes to pile my food in. Whew.

An interesting addition to this Costco: While shopping, you have to change floors with your big heavy carts. So the store has installed huge stairless escalators; they look like big huge conveyor belts that you drive the carts onto and the wheels automatically lock into place so that the cart doesn’t roll away while you are on the steep incline/decline. I was pretty impressed.
Here are some products I was so happy to see: Tide (hee hee), Downy, Huggies, Sealy mattresses, milk, cheese.
A product that was slightly different: sour cream (it is Danish and tastes like plain yogurt, it put a nice spin on my Ziti.)

Yes, I even had to show my reciept as I walked out the door, actually Kang did that for me.

Seoul Day 2

Seoul Day 2: January 4, 2008
My day was much better. It went like this:
4:30-6:30: Susan Grace and James struggle with residual jet lag.
6:30-9:00: found a box of Cheerios in back room. We eat Cheerios.
9:00-10:30: we wait for the babysitter to come. She was an hour late. Thankfully the driver waited and didn’t ditch me.
10:30-2:00: Costco trip.
My “borrowed” driver’s name was Kang. He’s a Korean man in his fifties. He saved my life today. He drove me to Costco and waited for me to load up $700 worth of food (two very full and heavy carts full). He then helped me out to the car and lifted all of the boxes into the car, while I tried to help. He then drove me back to my “soon to be home” while I dropped off a few things that I wouldn’t be needing until we moved in. Because of the language barrier, he thought I was taking everything up to my place, so he unloaded the entire car. He was sweating when I got back down. We loaded the car back up and drove back to the place we are staying in until our goods clear customs. Then once again, Kang unloaded the car and helped me up to my place with the massive amount of groceries. Thank you, Kang. Somehow, I don’t know if I’ll ever understand how, God used him to answer prayers.
2:00-3:30: Put away groceries.
3:30-5:30: I made Ziti. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed cooking so much. My kids loved it too.
I love Costco. Thanks to everyone for your prayers. Love to you, Kim

Seoul, Day 1

Day 1: January 3, 2008
My first day in Seoul: absolutely overwhelming. I am going to disregard the fear of hearing an, “I told you so”, from my parents and be completely honest, I am experiencing profound shock and utter exhaustion. Here are a few of my first day’s events:
1:00 am to 6:00 am: Seven people with jet lag awakenings and diarrhea.
6:00 am to 9:00 am: sifting through suitcases, again. Thankfully only one suitcase got left behind in Seattle. It should arrive tonight.
9:00 am to 12:00 pm: While exiting the plane in Seoul, we misplaced Margaret’s amoxicillin. Ugh! We spent the morning trying to find a doctor who would look at Margaret and reissue the med. Thankfully, my neighbor went with me. She was my interpreter. (Somehow I was under the false impression that everyone here speaks English; chalk that up to my naivete or my ego centrism, which ever you like.) The doctor was nice (seemed to be nice, I couldn't understand much of what he was saying) and wrote a prescription for an antibiotic. Okay. We paid $18 for the visit (I thought that was very reasonable) and stopped at the nearest “pharmacy” (I include quotes here because it in no way, shape, or form looked like a pharmacy to me). The “pharmacy” then filled the “antibiotic” (same reason for using quotes). The antibiotic was a series of little plastic envelopes filled with powder that was to be mixed with some yellow liquid and given four times a day. I was now standing clearly outside of my comfort zone. Whatever happened to good old American amoxicillin mixed and ready to be refrigerated? Oh yeah, that’s on some airplane probably half-way around the world. Ugh.
12:00 pm to 1:00 pm: My nice interpreter friend across the hall calls in some Papa John’s pizza. I start some wash (you know how laundry calms my nerves).
1:00 pm-3:00 pm: Sleep. Ahh.
3:00 pm to 4:00 pm: Jim informs me that there has been a major misunderstanding as to how to apply for a working visa and he has to fly to Japan in an hour. What? I am going to be left here in Seoul, alone with five children, no food and no car? I cry. I feel like I am going to panic.
4:00-5:30: I gather up the children and we walk about a quarter of a mile away looking for the grocery store. It’s cold. They are tired. Again, no one speaks any English. We walk back home with $13 worth of oranges from a street vendor. We found no store. Maybe I should have been looking for a “store”’.
5:30-6:30: Exhaustion settles in. Hunger settles in. Thankfully my neighbors flock to my aid and help me once again to order Korean takeout and $40 worth of fried chicken. The smells of the food, the looks of the food were so overwhelming that I lost all of my appetite. I had to get it out of my house. Somehow we survived that “dinner”.
At this point, I looked around me and I felt the most depressed I have felt in a very long time. I went in my room and prayed. Miri came in and put her arm around me. And I did what I know how to do: clean. I cleaned and cleaned.
9:30-10:00: I fell asleep in the chair attempting to read the Book of Mormon.

For the benefit of my parents, I want to just add, that my children say they are very happy here. They love Seoul. Why? Because of the heated toilet seats that squirt water! What else could a person want?