The Only Foods I Ever Want

I hope me apologizing at the beginning of every post isn't a thing now, even though it most definitely is.

So, keeping with tradition, sorry for being negligent. This time I actually do (sort of) have an excuse, and, surprise surprise, it's musical.

The actual play was yesterday (topic for another post, look forward to it-- there are pictures. And videos, but I don't think I like any of you THAT much.), but for the entire like 2 months leading up to it, the musical was ruining my life. All day during kindergarten, then spend the rest of the day and night attempting to unwind from the stressful morning.

ANYWAYS.

This post is about food.

More specifically, soup.

Soup is probably the best food ever.

And by probably, I mean definitely, absolutely, and without a doubt.

Now.

Think about how wonderful soup is (tomato, french onion, chicken noodle... mmm).

Then times that warm, fuzzy, delicious feeling by like a ZILLION, and you've got my favorite soup:

Hay Jang Guk.

It's just so fantastic.

It's made of an ox-bone broth, with giant chunks of pork spine, cabbage, and delicious spices.

Each place does theirs a little differently, but the essentials are always there.

This photo really doesn't do it justice.

They bring it out to your table in these heavy pots with the soup boiling out over the top. You have to finangle the chunks of meat into a separate bowl with chopsticks so you can scrape it off the bone. 

The thing with Hae Jang Guk is that everyone has their own way of eating it. Personally, I add the meat back into the soup and dump in the entire sauce bowl (every restaurant's is a little different, ranging from a hot mustard to Korean horseradish). I eat all of the solid bits, then dump in the rice and eat it with the broth.

Other people eat the meat separately from the soup (which should be a crime), and others just dump everything in the pot and eat it all in one go. 

Really, any way you eat it is Uh. Maze. Ing.

It's known in Korea as "hangover soup", but I eat it just all the time. If I could, I would probably eat it every day. I know that's a bold statement, but this soup really is THAT good. 

My friend Jess enjoying soup at our favorite place in the world.

Everyone seems to have a fierce loyalty to their favorite Hae Jang Guk establishment, and many an argument has ensued about who has the best stuff. 

Me and my friends stalk this place a few blocks from our house. We're there so often that the staff doesn't even bother to ask us what we're ordering, but instead just brings it out to a blissful chorus of "gamsa hamnidaaaaaaa" ("thank you").

There's one woman who works there who just loves us (who wouldn't, honestly) and brings us free sodas whenever we go-- an added bonus. 

Unrelatedly, guk ("gook") is Korean for soup, but I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that word used all the time and just soooo casually. It still gives me a start when I hear it, like, um HELLO how many Asians are here that you're using that word??

But then I remember that it's lunchtime and freezing and they're talking about soup, not their time-travel adventures to a fox hole in Vietnam. 

Oops?

ANYWAYS.

Another kind of soup that I really like (read: am moderately obsessed with) is Soondae Guk. 

Blood sausage soup!

This post is making me hungry.

It's this mild broth with chunks of blood sausage and thin slices of pork in it. There's also a load of whatever that green stuff is, it's like a grassier version of green onions, but who really knows.

It's so SO warm and soothing, and another "hangover soup". 

And no, I am not so constantly hungover that I eat hangover soup every day, it just happens to be delicious.

I'm not a big blood sausage fan generally, and was admittedly nervous trying this, but it doesn't taste like blood sausage, it's just this kind of mushy broth-y thing that has magical powers to entrance your taste buds and leave you never wanting to taste anything else for hours. 

But seriously, I'm drooling.

I met some new arrivals from South Africa last night, and they were complaining about the food. I tried to reassure them by telling them about these two culinary masterpieces, but they seemed, if anything, more worried than before.

Oops?

Anyways, here's a link to a recipe for Hae Jang Guk, if anyone at home is feeling adventurous.

Or hungover.

http://www.hannaone.com/Recipe/haejangguk.html

Amandarella

Every year, King and Queen Teacher give the American teachers the "opportunity" to showcase our and our classes' musical and dramatic "talents".

Greaaaaaaaat.

Dolphin class has been assigned Cinderella as our class play.

Guess who is Cinderella?

One of the ridiculously cute Asian babies?

Already in costume-- I'm just sayin'.

Oh, no.

Of course not.

It's me.

Ruh roh.

And the months we've spent preparing for this debacle have led to the creation of the following list.

Reasons why it is excruciatingly awkward for me to be Cinderella:

1. The slipper.

Two of the students are playing the mean step-sisters, and they have to say that the shoe is "too small". At one point, the prince even shouts: "Stop! Your fat foot is going to break the slipper!"

Honestly it's just preposterous for me to wait in line after these munchkins trying on a shoe that is "too small" and then for me to be like "WOW great fit! !*~LOLZ~*!"

I am easily a foot and a half taller than all of them and their feet COMBINED would maybe make half of mine. And I don't even have especially big feet, as far as white people go.

2. The girls all actually want to be Cinderella.

And they ask me every time we practice.

"Teacha! Why me is no Cinderella?"

Guh.

The original response was that Cinderella had too many lines, and only I, the native English speaker, could reasonably be expected to do it all.

A) Rude. No thank you. I don't want to do anything in this play, much less the biggest part.

B) That turned out to be somewhat less than true once the script was actually written.

C) The girls sat down at recess one day and counted the lines in the play and informed me that I was wrong.

D) I felt like a total jerk when I told them we couldn't switch. Believe me, I wanted to, but of course Queen Teacher is just tickled pink by the prospect of a white, blonde-ish Cinderella.

3. Prince Charming is 7 years old.

Seriously, it's creepy.

There are all these lines about how we are each others' true loves, and he has to propose, and I have to say yes, and then we get married.... 

Oh, and the entire class sings "A Whole New World" about our love.

(I know it's an Aladdin song, but it's romantic and my favorite so step off)

And as awkward as it is for me (how do you embrace post-proposal without feeling like a pedophile? Suggestions are welcome), it's worse for him as a 7-year-old boy.

Of course the kids are all at the stage where they say "OoOoOoOoooh you is LOOOOOOOOOOOVE _______?" about every 4.3 seconds.

Which can be funny, but when they ask Ricky if he LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVES me it gets.... uncomfortable.  

4. The kids all think it's really funny to treat me like Cinderella.

They'll throw a paper on the ground and then shout "Amandarellaaaaaa! Get off your lazy behind and pick up that paper!"

Or: "Amandarellaaaaa!! I want more water! Why are you so lazy?!" 

I don't even have the energy to comment on how ridiculous this is.

--End of list--

Anyways, the musical is generally a disaster, and of course the actual production is allegedly taking place next month. 

And no, under no circumstances will a video of the musical be made available to ANYONE. 

Ever. 

One of my students hates the musical so much I have to physically drag him into the room where we practice and threaten him with the harshest punishments I can think of to make him stop crying enough to say his lines.

If anyone else has this problem, telling him you'll throw him out the window and then actually opening the window should do the trick.

I'm not suuuuper proud of my behavior, but it worked like a charm.

This same student last week refused to do any other work because he wanted to work on the musical so much.

........I honestly wish I was making this up for dramatic effect. 

We also have to learn three songs and accompanying dances, as if an entire PLAY wasn't enough.

Did I mention that I will be the only one in costume? 

Oooooooooooof course.

Apologies

I'm probably the most negligent blogger in the universe. In a mere day's time, I will have not posted anything for an entire month.

Oops?

Anyways, I do have a semi-good reason: I'm trying something new.

I know, right?

I imagine your reactions went something like this. 

Anyways, I've been trying to have what I believe you non-hermit people call "a social life". I'm probably mispronouncing it, but hey-- baby steps. 

Normally, I tend to branch out about as much as a palm tree, which is to say, not at all.

But these days my friends' choice of activities has left me no choice but to make other friends. They went SKIING last weekend. Uh, no thank you.

These new friends have "interests" and like to "do stuff together", so that's left me very little time for blogging. 

Fortunately, all of this activity means I have a lot of great new material to work with. Whether or not I will have time to post it or not is an entirely separate question.

Several of these new friends are not from the US, leading to a lot of mistranslation (everyone) and embarrassing instances of downright ignorance (just me).

I am now that American. 

A teaser:

I asked if there was a bridge between England and Ireland. 

The short answer is no, there is actually an entire SEA. It takes an hour to cross it in an AIRPLANE.

So. 

There's that.

Look forward to more entries to come in the near future!

What's My Age Again?

I'm having an identity crisis of sorts.

Specifically, about age.

Let the record reflect that I am, in fact, 22 years old.

2011 - 1989 = 22 

I'm not saying I didn't check the math, but I didn't not check either. Make of that what you will.

So my general confusion about my age stems from approximately 4 sources.

1) Korean age

As is apparently the norm in a variety of Asian countries, you are considered 1 year old when you are born. So, add one year to your real age, and presto-change-o, you've got your Korean age.

So, depending on the audience, I am 23.

2) Work age

When I first started at work, I was advised to tell the kids that I'm older than I actually am. Age is a big component of respect here, so having an older teacher = more respect.

At work, I am 27.

3) Working with children

These kids are all just so cute with their little Disney princess purses, Hello Kitty hair clips, patterned tights, and bows that it's kind of rubbing off.

Not that I'm getting all harajuku or anything, but I might've bought pink fleece socks with little bunnies on them.

And purple bobby pins with small gold bows.

Generally, kid stuff is generally appealing to me more and more.

It's extra cute because she's a ballerina! ...Right? 

I've never been one to scoff at a game of Candyland or calling "No Backsies" or occasionally slamming an opponent/fellow passenger in agood-natured round of backseat jellybeans, but when I catch myself wistfully eyeing the freshly-stocked Hello Kitty stickers...

There might be some digression happening here.

4) Everyone else being really OLD

Somehow me and my coworkers are basically the youngest people in Yeongtong (the district of Suwon where I live).

But seriously.

The other day, I found out how old someone was, and caught myself thinking, "Gee, 26 is pretty young!"

F. M. L.

Someone else tried to pass himself off as 29, when he is, in fact, 33.

Who are you, Bridget Jones? Are you feeling your biological clock ticking down when you realize how unfulfilling your relationship with Mr. Haagen Dazs is?

I digress.

AND, the most appalling incident of how old everyone here is (sorry in advance to any REAL adults reading this blog):

3 weeks ago, I borrowed a friend's Nirvana tank top.

I was in no way trying to be "grunge"-- it's a smiley face for God's sake. Plus, I wore it under a J Crew blazer with Ralph Lauren riding boots. Super NOT grunge.

I digress. 

So I'm at the bar, ordering a beer to bring back to my table, when some guy comes over to me and strikes up a largely one-sided conversation about how awesome Nirvana is. 

He is just going on and on about it and I'm eyeballing the bartender to help me out and just give me the beer already when the guy says, "Maaaaan, I remember exactly where I was when I found out Kurt killed himself. EXACTLY, man. Where were you? Do you like totally remember?"

A) "Kurt"? I wasn't aware the two of you were on a first-name basis. 

B) It's not Pearl Harbor or 9/11. It's not an assassination or a major earthquake. People don't talk about where they were when a rockstar committed suicide. It's not a thing. 

C) How does such a guido-looking guy sound like such a valley girl?

D) Kurt Cobain killed himself on April 5, 1994.

I. Was. FOUR YEARS OLD.

So I said, "Uhhh, I think I was in preschool?"

Stunned silence.

"I mean, he died in 1994, right?"

"Yeah... Wait. So, so now, you're like, like..."

"22."

"OH."

The guy literally backs away from me slowly, with his hands out in front of him like I'm a raccoon he busted living in his garage and says, "I should gooooo."

I, of course, thought he should have left like 5 minutes before that, but of course am now curious.

"How old are you?"

"46."

FORTY. SIX.

Hi, peer of my parents, let's hang out at the bar.

NOT.

In conclusion, I have found myself being legitimately confused about how old I am on more than one occasion. 

FYI, people think it's really weird when you say, "I'm 27. I mean 22. 23? Shoot. Wait, 2011 minus 1989... Yeah, 22."

And... because I have to: 

"What s my Age Again?" --Blink 182

Pack of Lies

Someone, somewhere, once told me that children are great for your self esteem.

"They just love you! And are so cute and funny and just make you so happy!"

Blah blah blah unconditional love, blah blah blah instant self esteem boost, blah blah blah.

I don't know what crack that person was putting in their students' water, but that is the biggest pack of lies I have ever been fed.

Either that, or I teach a particularly sadistic group of 6-year-olds.

It's a toss up.

For example:

Last week, I wore a sweater with an asymmetrical design. One shoulder is, for lack of a better word, tastefully bedazzled, while the other is plain.

One girl asked me, "Teacha, why is your sweater broken?"

Uh... what?

She thought that because the one shoulder didn't have any sparkles on it, that I had somehow torn all of them off on accident.

I may be clumsy and dumb, but seriously, give me a little credit here.

I explained to her that no, I did not mutilate my sweater, but it's supposed to be that way and is, in fact, cool.

She looked at me disapprovingly and said, "No, Teacha. No cool."

A kindergartener told me I have bad taste in clothes. And the rest of them agreed.

ZING.

Then, earlier this week, two of the students were flirting in their own special kindergartner way. Being the mature "adult" that I am, I decide the appropriate way to handle this is to tease them.

"OoOoOoOoh Monica, do you looooove Ricky? Is he your boyfriend?"

Of course they immediately stop flirting and deny any and all accusations of couplehood, but then the conversation spirals out of control and all of the kids start asking if people are girlfriend/boyfriend with all kinds of things.

"Johnny, you girlfriend is... TRASHYCAN? BAHAHAHAHAHA"

"Tony, you girlfriend is CHAIR?!?! HAHAHAHAHA"

Of course they all think it's hilarious and I'm having trouble deciding if it's hysterical or obnoxious so I just let them run with it.

It only takes about 5 minutes for the conversation to take a questionable turn, when they start asking me if I am dating the whiteboard, marker, waterbottle, etc.

Then one girl gets quiet, and says, "Teacha, do you yes boyfriend?"

Problems with this question:

A) How many times have I taught them how to ask "Do you have ________"?

B) How many more times will I have to teach them before they remember?

C) I had to answer, "No, I do not have a boyfriend."

All of the kids immediately stop giggling to look at me in shock.

"Teacha, why you no boyfriend?"

...................... seriously?

"I don't know, Monica, sometimes people don't have a girlfriend or boyfriend, and that's okay."

...Right?

"But Teacha, you are so beautiful! Why you no boyfriend?" "You no want boyfriend?" "Why you no want boyfriend?"

This is just getting cruel.

But then the kicker:

"Teacha, Kelli Teacha always has boyfriend. She has many many boyfriends. Why you no?"

Then everyone got a bad point and we did 3 extra phonics worksheets.

Moral of the story is: kids only rarely make you feel good about yourself. Then they'll inadvertently do something horrible and crush your hopes and dreams.

Oh yeah, and happy Thanksgiving!

More Caffeine, Please!

... But really.

I think I may have a problem.

When I first got here, I started drinking a variety of caffeinated beverages, mostly of the iced coffee variety. Partially because it was just so hot, but also because I was jet lagged out of my mind and kindergartners are hyper little monsters.

By the time the weather became more manageable and I had adjusted to the time schedule (the kids are still lunatics, unfortunately), I tried to wean myself from the near-constant trip of caffeine.

Without success.

And it's been a steady increase in my caffeine intake from there. It's like I've developed a tolerance. Whereas before, one cup of iced coffee would have me jittery and hyper for hours, now... Let's just say the iced Starbucks double shot of espresso drinks are a regular indulgence.

But seriously.

I started to get concerned when one of my kids asked "Teacha, why every day you eat coffee?"

My first problem was of course that she forgot the difference between eating and drinking, but then I realized:

I drink at least one cup of coffee every day.

Before work.

Then one at work, during kindergarten.

And in the relatively unlikely event I don't take a nap during the mid-day break, a Coke Zero or some other caffeinated soft drink.

Then a cup of black tea or coffee in the afternoon.

Ruh roh?

I guess this is the part where I don't mention the energy drinks every Friday night.

And no, I can't figure out how to make this not be upside-down. 

Sorry 'bout it.

So I decided to do my due diligence and look up on Wikipedia how much caffeine it takes to kill someone.

The great news is that if I manage to drink less than 50 cups of coffee in half an hour, I'm in the clear.

Plus, this graphic has basically convinced me that mainlining caffeine is not only socially appropriate, but healthy!

Thank God for the internet.

How to NOT Deal With a Blood Geyser in Class

So today I had my first medical scare with one of the kids.

And of course it was in Jellyfish class, where once they start crying any and all ability to speak English goes out the window.

So today:

We're in the classroom-- All 8 kids are sitting relatively quietly while I have my back turned, writing on the board when all of a sudden they all just start screaming.

SCREAMING.

Like, bloodthirsty, gun-toting-zombie-vampire-is-in-the-classroom screaming.

I immediately turn around and see Andy, one of the cutest little round-faced munchkins ever, just freely bleeding all over the desk, his hands, and his face.

Every other child is on their feet screaming and poor Andy is just sobbing and gushing blood.

I run over, push some of the kids away and tell one to get the tissues, and try to figure out what artery has burst to create this blood GEYSER on his FACE.

What I thought I was dealing with

Turns out it was just a really dramatic nosebleed, but seriously.

WHAT THE HECK.

I think I missed the day in Being an Adult School where they teach you not to totally lose your $#!+ when a kid gets hurt, because I was totally freaking out.

Luckily I had the presence of mind to make everyone sit down and stop screaming, and hold tissues to Andy's face while someone went and got the Angel Teacher (Korean classroom helper).

That woman must have a PhD in staying calm because she swooped in and made him stop crying and cleaned him and the desk up before I even knew she was back.

Moral of the story is: it is probably inappropriate to scream "Oh my God, [insert child's name here]!!!!" in front of a bunch of hysterically screaming kindergarteners unless you're sure that his head has, in fact, exploded.

My bad.