another interesting weekend

Oh, after such a hellish week, I came home Friday night and immediately began drinking some makgeolli, just to forget about it. No, I never, ever, ever drink alone, and yes, the week was that difficult. Briana and I agreed to go to a jimjilbang (private bath house) for the night, because the one she knows of is rather like a spa palace. After a drunken shower and shave (public nudity necessitates a bit of preparatory clean-up), I made my way to Briana's house, and we left for the Dragonhill Spa by Yongsan subway station.

And wow.

So much happened there that it's almost daunting to try to describe.

The entrance has a large, squatting, naked sculpture of a woman, which I obviously took photos with. The entrance is several people behind a kiosk-type desk, taking money and giving radio wrist-bands with keys attached to the patrons. You take your shoes off, put them in a locker, and proceed around a corner to an elevator.

Up three floors is the women's locker room, and the first thing off the elevator is another counter where you may purchase any kind of facial wash or scrub, body wash or scrub, tooth brush, shampoo and conditioner, bras, underwear, scrubby pads, dresses, purses, and nourishing face masks. You can walk up naked and buy armfuls of stuff, and simply scan your radio wrist-band and have it tallied up for you for later.

So, we changed our clothes; or rather, we took off our clothes and stuffed them into a locker, and then wandered around with all the other naked ladies into the public bath house area. This place was a palace, pure and simple. There were dozens of shower stalls, big tiled baths with water spilling in from fixtures resembling animals or vases, and a sauna and steam room at one end of the L-shaped room, with a bunch of tables set up at the other end for the ajumma to scrub your naked body. First, we took showers and used a bunch of the packets of wash and scrub that we bought at the counter in the locker room, and then we tested the waters in the various tubs (with the temperature displayed digitally above each). We wandered all around the bath house and eventually got hungry and changed back into the occultist matching cotton t-shirt and elastic shorts. Everybody had a set.

We went downstairs to a floor with a restaurant, snack bar, giant miscellaneous room, and several sleeping rooms. This floor also had a very large pool, but that was not accessible for the season, so we could only look at it through the locked glass doors. We went to the restaurant and ordered food and sat with the other cult members and I marveled at how hard my week got towards the end and how it makes me hate myself so thoroughly by Friday night, every week. This being Friday night, my feelings were right on par.

After dinner, we went into the giant miscellaneous room, complete with an enormous HD television in the middle of the room, a gaudy gold- and red-covered throne, 20 or so massage chairs (Sharper Image-esque) all along one wall, a snack bar, King Tutenkhamen golden statue, artificial waterfall rock formation, two ten-foot-high Egyptian-style pyramids, and four gigantic crystal chandeliers on the ceiling. Whoever designed this room must've been throwing money at a novelty catalog with absolutely no sense of taste. To top it off, the most bizarre thing by far, there were at least fifty people sleeping all over the floor, sprawled out in their little matching cotton getups. Many of them were couples, and almost everyone had a little "pillow" to rest on; a vinyl-covered brick with padding within.

Across the room was a doorway guarded by three 3' statues of emperor penguins, and this led to an ice room, the complete opposite of a sauna. It was extremely cold and only tolerable for about two minutes. There were stairs leading down to a game room with computers and racing games and arcade games and the like, with another sleeping room leading off of that. Everywhere I walked things seemed more and more curious (curiouser and curiouser, if you will).

Since by this time, it was after 2am, Briana and I resolved to sitting in some massage chairs and scanning our wrist-bands for a relaxing seven minutes. Briana fell asleep during hers, but I was too stunned by the oddities around me and how everyone was so nonchalant and comfortable.

The unfortunate part of being an insomniac is the inability to sleep, otherwise it's not too bad. Here I was, trapped in guaranteed discomfort, with lights on in every "sleeping" room, and dozens of people around me making individual noises. My only options were the brick pillow and the floor, with the possibility of darkness in a room that was too hot and totally crowded with snoring women, otherwise I could join the couples on the stone floor in the miscellaneous room, or the sleeping room that smelled like a fireplace, or...I could stay awake and panic because there was no chance in hell I was going to sleep despite my fatigue. Times like this ruin good, relaxing baths and soaks.

Eventually I slept, but woke up with some tall woman poking her feet in my face repeatedly, so after only two hours, I was awake and facing the same ordeal all over again. I took my iPod and sojourned through the various floors with bloodshot eyes and a brick pillow and my two hand towels (no blankets). After another two hours in a cooler room with some couples, listening to an ambient album only barely masking the roaring sinuses of some man at the end of the room, I staggered back up to the previous room that was at one time dark. For some reason, the sunlight seemed more inviting and relaxing and I fell asleep immediately, and was rewarded with an additional three and a half hours of decent sleep.

The next morning, when Briana and I dragged out of the sleeping room, we showered again, and found the ajumma ready to scrub and massage our bare bodies. For 40 bucks, it was extremely long and thorough, and rather painful. My ajumma even washed my hair after scrubbing my junk. Briana and I spent another half hour outside (in the private enclosed area accessible from the bathhouse) slipping around on plastic pool furniture (we were also covered in lavender oil). We decided we would grab some lunch at the restaurant before we left for the day, and so we changed and went down to purchase drinks.

What?! The wrist band doesn't work anymore?! We were told we had to go pay for more time, but that was just the answer we needed. We'd already been there 14 hours, and it was high time to move on.

If I could've taken pictures in this place, you would certainly have a better idea of how insane it is, and why it's so extremely popular! Thanks, Dragonhill Spa!

After that, we had dinner and went to see "The Watchmen" at the gigantic mall next door.

Sunday I had lunch with the girls plus some other folks I don't see often (actually I've only met them once before on New Year's Eve), and then the girls and I went to get some extra taekwondo training in Gangnam. I did yoga, jogged, roundhouse-kicked, jumped on a trampoline and flipped over onto a mat, and lifted weights for five hours. Then we grabbed some Indian food in Hyewa, which was TOTALLY delicious, and then some ice cream at the Cold Stone (Koreans are obsessed with ice cream).

That's not exactly a nutshell, but it makes for a short week when my weekends are so awesome!

Well, I did it to myself this time.  I stayed up pretty late last night talking on Skype to Toby, which is definitely one of my favorite things to do.  Then, I attempted to go to sleep but had a lot of trouble taking deep breaths and relaxing.  I imagine I spent at least half of the night in a kind of partially-conscious sleep, like if I downed a Red Bull or something just before bed.  I don't consume caffeine after 1 or 2pm anymore, just for sleep-related reasons, so...ugh.

Also, I was asked to teach an additional high school class on Wednesday mornings, at 9am.  If you do the math, you can see where my irresponsibility sets me up to fall, right?  All I needed was a reliable alarm clock, and this morning, maybe it went off but I don't remember and when I woke up at 9:30, the alarm was turned off.  I phoned the principal and she said it's okay because there's already a teacher in the classroom (the semester began weeks ago anyway), but I'll need to step it up if I want to appear the reliable person/teacher I am (I told myself this).  So that's how my morning began.

One of my coworkers mentioned a couple weeks ago at a big after-work dinner that she had two hamsters and they turned out to be the opposite sex, and was looking for a home for one of them.  Clearly, I offered to take it.  Last evening, she brought me a little white and gray dwarf hamster that I named Lloyd, and he's very cute and only 2 months old.  He's not as interested in me as I am with him, however, so I've resorted to offering him gifts of sunflower seeds and strawberries.

Why does time fly so quickly when I'm enjoying a rare relaxing moment?

But isn't it a blessing when you and your intentions are simply understood?  When things work themselves out just when you need them to?  When you can grow and succeed because of all the support, and not stumble and shrink because of minor adversity?  I didn't have to spell it out to Toby, but he put it just the way I felt it:  I'm off getting better, in just the right environment for me right now.  I thank God every day that my coworkers are such amazing men and women, that their work ethic and loving spirit are tireless and inspiring, and that having one coworker who ices out me something fierce can be put into an emotionally healthy perspective.  God gave me that person to help me learn self-love, something I have ALWAYS struggled with.  Instead of justifying and validating possible reasons why she hates me so much, I don't waste my time being upset about it (usually).  Sometimes it makes me angry, of course, because her behavior to me is unwarranted.  But then I recall when she and her husband invited me to lunch on my birthday, which was exactly two weeks after I moved to Korea, and I was already shocked that she was speaking to me because she had been so cold to me all of that second week.

In short, with consideration, I am able to see how this is her problem, her issue, and the stick is up her ass.  I am lovable and wonderful, and I would do anything for her if she gave me the time of day, just like I would with any of my coworkers or friends, because I believe in sharing love and giving it endlessly to everyone.  That is so different from my previous and unsuccessful approach to adversaries; I have typically licked my wounds and let it plague my heart.  So, her hateful presence is also a blessing in my life.

I stopped attending taekwondo for a few weeks while the dust settled on my new semester routine.  I miss the workout, the social environment, and having sore muscles every day, and even though I'm supposed to be cleaning and studying when I'm home, I am generally unproductive from the moment I walk through my front door.

I think I will go back this evening, just once this week.  The adults from the studio are going on a trip this weekend out to the Korean mountains and then out to the East Sea, which I presume is the Pacific Ocean.  Finally I get to see the ocean from the other side!  Cool, huh?!  Anyway, "Lost" should be back on Friday and this weekend promises to be very exciting, and there are ups and downs but I guess I'm pretty happy at the moment.

Off to work.

the final straw

Remember how my neighbors annoy the hell out of me with their noisy, inconsiderate ways? This morning, just now, at 6:30, they woke me up with their yelling, which is obviously unnecessary and so rude. I've put up with them banging around for hours for days and for months, feeling trapped in a torture chamber where I can't get any sleep.

I had previously asked the head teacher to type up a memo in Korean that asks them most politely to be quiet. I have rather an aversion to confrontation, so I figured this gave me a much longer rope with which to tolerate the noise.

I had also asked the head teacher to print out a list of my symptoms for the pibukwa, or dermatologist, so that I could get the eczema on my hand treated (several weeks ago). In my mess of an apartment, I just happened to keep these two memos together.

This morning, being woken up for the umpteenth time, I decided I'd had enough. I marched into the living room, grabbed the memo, and squinted in the dark to make sure I had it. Then I went upstairs and knocked on their door. The whole family was leaving for the day, and they were all in the doorway, and I handed the memo over.

Being exhausted and just woken, it took me a few minutes to understand their behavior. They read the paper again and again, under their breath, and looked back at me. The man pointed to his feet, and I said, "Yes, the stomping and the yelling!" And they looked back at the paper, confused...

Then, the lady picked up a cream from the counter and handed the memo back to me with this tube of cream. THEN it hit me. I had to laugh at myself and then apologize to them, making the 'be quiet' gesture with my finger over my mouth, that they understood, then I came back home.

Seriously, of all the things to mistake. Now I really don't want to confront them again over the noise levels, but maybe they'll be more quiet. If anything, it's impossible not to laugh at myself, and their poor confused faces, handing the memo to one another and re-reading it slowly...This weird foreigner shows up inexplicably at 6:30 in the morning and hands them a paper describing her eczema symptoms!

I'm going back to sleep.

recovery room

It should be said that I do tend to grow weary of being in the same place for too long. To further support this, I feel my body tensing up, my sleep patterns become irregular, jealousy for those with more freedom becomes acute, and the urge to complain is ever present.

This weekend my friend Briana and I left the bustling, condensed metropolis of Seoul for a calmer, slower pace with more fresh air. We took the subway south to Anyang, which I read an article about in an English magazine.

Upon our arrival, we immediately scanned the area searching for differences between this place and the place we'd just escaped. Sadly, there were few. Among them, far less traffic, which was nice, especially for a Saturday morning when it seems everybody has endless time and resources for joyriding. We meandered down some roads with a vague intention to eat lunch and a pressing need to find a restroom (or more likely, an available hole in the floor that flushes).

We found ourselves at a nice little traditional-style restaurant where you take off your shoes in the doorway and tuck them into a cubby so you can sit down on the heated (ondol) floor at a low table. It's totally commonplace. At first, we sat down near these two guys smoking and drinking soju (before noon), and I chose to move because I really don't need to smell or smell like burnt tobacco. It turns out that this gave me a great seat for the upcoming theatrics.

They were probably both completely slammed, but one guy was belligerent and extremely loud, bellowing at the ajumma (waitress restaurant owner lady). She wasn't scared of him, even when he got up and yelled in her face! She just called someone on her phone, and another guy showed up to help solve the problem diplomatically. To no avail. This drunk man was feeling really bold and got up and took another soju bottle out of the fridge (not something patrons are supposed to do) and sat down. The recently-arrived diplomat quietly went over and removed it from their table. Then some words were exchanged, some more bellowing ensued, and eventually these two guys were thrown out. The quieter of the two paid for their meal while the obnoxious one shoved and barked and was led outside.

Outside of the restaurant, the diplomat still tried to remain quiet and calm, but used a little more physical restraint with this guy. It took some time, but he and his buddy finally left.

About ten minutes later, they came back. By this time, our exciting lunch had come to an end and we were paying our bill. Of course, being two strong-minded, loud white women in a restaurant with a drunken bastard hassling some kind, mild-mannered restauranteurs, we were not about to let things get really out of hand without stepping in. Briana has a short fuse attached to a very big, unwieldy bomb, but I have been known to channel outrage into rather efficient responses. We decided we were part of Team Oh-Hell-No (O.H.N. for short) and weren't going to stand by and watch this injustice. So here come the drunks, unconvinced that they were no longer welcome and that they were too inebriated to be served.

Our belligerent fellow is met by the diplomat once more, who attempts to wrangle him into some kind of submission, but in a really passive, half-hearted way. What's the matter with these people? Punch him in the stomach and call the cops!! At some point, this guy walks to the side of the restaurant and SLAMS his face into a vending machine. Briana is horrified and begins screaming, "Psycho! Oh my God he's PSYCHO! PSYCHO!" which was echoed by other patrons familiar with the word. I put my shoes on and we both took our rings off (figuratively) because we were ready to defend this place. We stood in the doorway (two glass doors) and watched this guy now surrounded by several useless pacifists. He tried to come into the restaurant through the door I was now blocking, and opened it in toward me. I simply pushed my fingers into his chest and backed him out the door and then closed it on his face. He struggled to open the doors again, but Briana and I held true!

Oh, and we took photos of this incident, because we were on a vacation and care little about the "loss of face" taboo in conservative Korean culture. Especially for a raging drunk.

Then we found our way over to Anyang Art Park, which was my main destination. There was a deafening over-the-hill Korean traditional pop concert attracting hundreds of elderly hikers that seemed to be an all-day event. We could hear it from every corner of the park, which was rather sizable. The art itself was really cool, made by artists international, and completely interactive. I was a bit surprised to see parents leading their youngsters through the explicit content part of the park with nude statues and erotic poses. Maybe, though, these kids think little of the indecency of a woman's naked breasts.

Oh, and the big building on the hill that said, "Resorts and Youth Hostel," was not that at all. In fact, there was no hostel and there were no rooms available for just two people, only three. I mentioned they should change their sign. We asked where else we might find lodging, and the hotel clerk said, "The..Moon Motel, or...others..." So, those were our options. Sounds like BS, right?

We went over to the Moon Motel, which we could see on an opposite hill, and quickly discovered its true source of business. Why put a love motel in an art park? Couples stinking of soju stumbled in at 2:30pm and clearly weren't going to bed for the night. We could reserve a room, but couldn't get in until 10pm. I hid my luggage behind the motel behind a trellis because I was plum tired of carrying all that cargo around with me.

The day lasted a long time, it seemed. The Anyangcheon (Anyang Stream) flowed through the middle of this park, and since the water was rather low, lots of cool things were exposed like broad granite stones, perfect for playing on. We joined some little kids who had an elaborate mission to collect all the trash, sticks, and leaves out of the water and sort it into piles on the rocks. It might have been briefly satisfying to kick their piles back into the water, but we merely laughed at the prospect and left them to their game. The sun had found itself at a very golden position in the sky, so the water and the children seemed rather ethereal.

Mostly by chance, Briana and I found ourselves at nice big restaurant that served shabu-shabu. Though I've heard of it many times in the States, I've only ever had it twice, both times here in Korea. This dinner was so exceptionally tasty that we ordered an additional half-serving (just for one person, not two). We were also trying to kill time until we could claim our room at the love motel. After some beer, soju, juice, "cider" (which is totally lemon-lime soda), and so much delicious food, we stood up from the floor, stretched our aching legs and bellies, and considered our fatigue just long enough to decide it was time to retire. We braced ourselves for the inevitably sexy room, and were pleased to discover that it was just clean, pretty, and actually very large.

There was a couch, ottoman, coffee table, and vanity partitioned on one half of the room, while the bed, plasma television, computer, and surround-sound speakers were on the other. There were fancy wrought-iron faux windows and the bathroom was awesome. They had lotions, large bottles of shampoo and conditioner, shaving gel, a water cooler, coffee mix, candies (Briana ate all of 'em), and even brushes available. We watched really old episodes of "The Simpsons" and flipped back occasionally to a tacky, overly-dramatic amateur soft-core porn movie on another channel. It was just like all the awful Korean soap operas except with bad lighting and sound, no music whatsoever, and a lot of bare breasts and asses. And tragically misinformed actors who DON'T have a CLUE how to please a woman. Yes, please, pull up my bra, gnaw on one nipple, and do me against the minivan in the parking garage. Lame.


The next day we decided we'd seen all we could in Anyang and took the train even further south to Suwon, and there we visited a cool temporary palace for the king that was built at the end of the 18th century.

It was peaceful, interesting, and inspiring. I thought back to a time of relying on ambient outdoor temperatures to be comfortable, hearing nothing but birds chirping and wind and the occasional conversation or laughter within the palace. When there were trees everywhere, and people got around likely by wagon, walking, or beasts of burden. Briana and I ate at a restaurant directly across the street, after resting and chatting on the giant peace bell structure next-door.

We gradually made our way back to Seoul proper, since it was a bit unappealing to go back to all that we'd left. The train ride back was fun because there was an elderly couple playing with each other, running back and forth on the train, snagging the warm seats left behind by exiting passengers. Their grins were so wide and genuine it was impossible not to smile and giggle with them and their other companions.

I went home with Briana and met her little rescue dog (whose leg was broken by her weekend babysitter while we were gone!), and helped her get the crate back into her apartment from her friend's upstairs, and showed her how to give the little dog syringed pain medication. After a cab ride home, I was finished with my weekend!

And ready to start a frightening new week?

The week has gone extremely quickly but it threatens to leave no survivors. I've written too much to describe it in any detail, so I'll just say I'm wiped. I need to rest but first I need to catch up to everything I need to finish. When will that happen? I haven't felt on top of things since January. Strength, Lord, please give me STRENGTH.