It's Always Sunny In South Korea
  • personal growth
  • June23rd

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    This is my third post on here in the past two weeks which, for me, is really impressive. See? I really am getting better at this. (At least that’s what I’m telling myself.)

    Anyway, I’ve been going through an identity crisis regarding my writing and my blogs, where I want to post this kind of writing, where I want to post another. What I’ve decided is that this blog is going to be for travel writing and interesting things about China.

    I’m a huge fan of long-form, beautifully written travel pieces. I also really like to go on descriptive rants about places I’ve lived or been. This blog is where I get to do that. In the coming months, I’m going to test out some long-form, narrative travel writing here and I am so totally pumped about it. I know it’s going to be fun for me to write. Hopefully it will also be fun to read.

    OK, on to the actual subject of this post. Why I heart my life in Beijing to ridiculous degrees. Well, there are a lot of reasons.

    For one, I live in China. InĀ China. This never actually sunk in until a couple of weeks ago when I felt this surge of love for Beijing and this renewed feeling of excitement and “ohmyfrackinggod, this is where I live.” Beijing is fun and gritty and smoggy and chaotic and overly crowded and frustrating and thrilling and spectacular all at once. It is exactly the kind of place I want to be at this moment in time. And to be honest, it’s also probably about where I am in my personal development. Maybe Beijing and I suit each other right now. I’m cool with that.

    Moving on. In addition to the coolness and thrill of living in China’s capital city, I also have a lovely and wonderful group of friends who I am genuinely honored to know. They’re fun and self-aware and all-around inspiring, and I have learned tremendous amounts from them in the few months since our little community has formed. They’ve taught me so much about honesty and friendship, and it’s pretty cool to be experiencing so many new things with them.

    But there is another reason why I find my life to be so completely and utterly incredible and awesome (I really need to learn some new words to convey my enthusiasm). I’m a freelance writer.

    I realize that to some this is like, not a big deal in any way, shape or form. Who cares, really, what I do for a living?

    Let me explain why it’s a big deal to me. Two days after finishing grad school back in ’08, I was on one final vacation before plunging into my first job in the “real world.” It was an awesome gig – I was going to work for a great paper in D.C., have my own column and be assistant to a seasoned Washington journalist. You can’t ask for much more straight out of J-School.

    But I remember thinking to myself, as I burned my skin out by the hotel pool, that I really had no interest in working, at least as I saw it then. “I’ll do this for a couple of years,” I told myself. “But what I really want to do is be able to travel around and relax during the day and write whenever I please.”

    And now here I am. Three short years later, I’m living overseas and freelance writing for a living. I’m getting published in newspapers and magazines, working on my own creative projects and I work on my own schedule.

    Most of my days are like this: I get up in the morning, check my email and write until about noon. Then I take a break to eat lunch and watch a couple of episodes of TV with my roommate, who also happens to be a fellow freelancer and my best friend, which, I have to say, enhances the fun of the freelance lifestyle considerably.

    Then I work sporadically throughout the afternoon and, if need be, the evening, with time in between to have dinner with friends, go out, read books, watch movies or pretty much do whatever. It’s awesome.

    The other day, I had to swing by the office of one of the publications I write for to pick up my pay and I wondered if I’d feel envious of those actually working in a newsroom every day. I was in there for all of two minutes — less than that, actually, not even 120 seconds — before I jubilantly thought, “Hellllll no! I’m never going back to working a desk job again!”

    Maybe all of this sounds mundane to the rest of the world, but it’s huge for me because I live in a city I love and am doing the exact thing I’ve wanted to do my entire life. Ever since moving to Asia, I often find myself thinking about me as a five-year-old girl because I remember even then scouring old copies of National Geographic and saying, “I want to be a writer and I want to travel the world.” And now I’m doing that. Sometimes, I just want to look at the five-year-old me and be like, “See? I’m doing it! Are you proud of me?” I think she would be.

    And it’s like, just for this moment, I am totally content. Life won’t always be this way. I don’t expect to be living the same routine, or even in the same city, 10 years from now, five years from now, or maybe even three. Things will change and I’ll go other places and I won’t always live with, or within five minutes’ walking distance, of my friends. Maybe I’ll do something other than writing, leave China, whatever.

    But for right now, I’m good. I’m so, so good. And it hasn’t been until the past year that I knew what that felt like. Contentment. As in, I’m just going to be present and happy in the moment.

    And that is what makes my life in Beijing so, so awesome.

  • October13th

    5 Comments

    Several months ago, around the beginning of summer, I was at work, chatting with my co-workers in the teachers’ room. One of them pulled up some photos he had taken on different trips throughout Asia. He scrolled through snapshots from Cambodia and this place and that. And then he pulled up pictures of what was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.

    “Where is that?” I asked, sure he was going to say some exotic locale in Southeast Asia.

    “Seoraksan,” he replied.

    It turned out that this wondrous place was actually in Korea, only a few hours away from Seoul. I was beside myself. I had to see it. The photos were stunning and I assumed it would be even more breathtaking in person.

    I decided to make the trip in autumn, when the leaves would be changing color. Fall is my favorite time of year to begin with, so I figured a trip to see the much-vaunted Korean foliage in all its splendor would only sweeten the season.

    And so it came to pass that I found myself on a chartered bus with about 45 other people just before midnight on a Friday, eagerly anticipating an early morning (2:30 a.m.) hike to see the natural wonder that is Seoraksan. Friday nights are usually reserved for sleeping off a week’s exhaustion or drinking it off in some bar, but I was all too happy to make an exception last weekend. I had waited months for this, after all.

    The trip promised a thorough experience of Mt. Seorak – an early morning hike to the summit, where we would enjoy the sunrise, followed by a somewhat leisurely journey down the mountain, with plenty of time to bask in the autumnal glory along the way. What could be more exciting?

    The better question turned out to be, “What could be more horrible?” The answer: “Nothing.” Nothing on earth could have been less enjoyable than that 15-hour odyssey turned out to be.

    I knew I was in trouble about 10 minutes into the hike. My thighs began aching and my breaths started coming harder and a voice in my head said, “Why the hell am I doing this?”

    The “casual hike” I had been expecting turned out to begin with four non-stop hours crawling up a steep mountainside. Every time I looked up (a risky move since much of the path was haphazardly placed rocks and large patches of mud that could have easily led to my death by falling down a mountainside), all I could see were the lights from other hikers’ headgear and flashlights, with no summit in sight.

    I finally reached the peak a little after sunrise. The view was indeed gorgeous and it didn’t really matter that I missed the sun coming up because it was too cloudy to really see it anyway. The surrounding area was still beautiful, though. At certain points, the clouds would shift just enough to glimpse the dozens and dozens of surrounding peaks and it was almost surreal to be up there. (Not that I appreciated it at the time.)

    By that point, I had fully and completely accepted that I am not much of an outdoor person, let alone an extreme hiker. I was totally unprepared for the trek and it didn’t help that there were about 8,000 hardcore Korean hikers on the mountain as well.

    When I first spotted them suited up with their hiking sticks, I thought it was sweet and that it was kind of cool to be doing the same thing they were. How wrong I turned out to be.

    The climb down was even more treacherous than the way up. Although the trails were clearly man-made, whoever created them didn’t seem to have given it too much thought. If they did, they must have been suicidal. The small boulders comprising much of the path seemed to have been placed at as dangerous an angle as possible. Parts of the trail were so steep and narrow that we had to go down single-file, with no handrails or guide ropes along the most treacherous areas.

    It also didn’t help that the vast majority of Korean hikers were unbelievably rude. At one point, one of the other hikers, Meagan, and I got separated from the rest of the group. Caught up in constant waves of far more experienced hikers, we not only had to watch for unstable footing, but for spiteful ajummas willing to mow us down as well. Several women actually shoved us as we baby-stepped down the path, then laughed when we told them to stop or became visibly upset.

    Fortunately, not everyone was like this. Several older men helped us through the most slippery parts of the trail and two couples offered us their gloves when they saw that we were using our bare hands to guide ourselves down the mountain.

    Between fits of rage and frustration, I tried to distract myself by pretending that Seoraksan was like the Eyrie in George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” series. The Eyrie is another beautiful but treacherous place that is nearly impossible to surmount so I thought it’d be fun to pretend I was in the story. That didn’t really pan out, though. Much as I love Martin’s incredible fantasy series, the necessity of watching my every step lest I make one wrong move and plummet 4,000 feet to my death kept me firmly in reality.

    Despite being utterly miserable for most of the day, I did try to take some positives from it. For one thing, I am glad I got to see Seoraksan. I would have liked to do in a more pleasurable way but truly, it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. I’ve put up more photos in a separate post, but they do not come close to showing how sensational the area really is.

    The second thing I learned is that I am not really an outdoorsy person and I’m OK with that. This year has been about trying new things and learning about myself. I did one other hike this year and that was fun-ish, meaning that I also hated that in the beginning but loved the views and enjoyed myself by the end of the day. But right from the beginning of this one, I knew, “I don’t like this.” I didn’t come here to hike, I came to see the fall colors and shoot photos. That’s all.

    More importantly than not being an outdoorsy-sporty person, I think I learned a deeper reason of why the hike was so frustrating. It’s because it was a situation I could not get out of. I realized that there was part of myself that was angry that I had voluntarily put myself in a position in which I was physically in pain and mentally uninterested and unhappy, and I had no choice but to endure 15 hours of it. I had to force myself to finish the hike and for awhile, my mind was going crazy with the anxiety of being “trapped,” in a sense. There was no way out of that bad situation but to keep hurting and keep being frustrated under the same conditions.

    And then there’s the simple fact that pushing my body like that does not thrill or excite me in any way and I would prefer to get my activity elsewhere.

    So Seoraksan was not the peaceful, at-one-with-nature experience I had hoped it would be, but it was productive. And it’s certainly one I will never forget.

  • October5th

    3 Comments

    It’s been about half an eternity since my last post (OK, really more like a month and a half but it feels like it’s been much longer than that) and there’s quite a bit I want to write about. But before I launch into a bunch of updates on my travels, teaching and everyday life in Korea, I thought I would mark my return to blogging by talking about a recently-celebrated milestone: As of last week, I have been living in Seoul for exactly seven months.

    Six months probably would have been a more appropriate time to do a reflective blog post since that is the halfway mark for my teaching contract. But I completely blew past that one so I decided to go with the seven month milestone instead.

    I’m sure everyone says this about their first year in a new place but I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Summer absolutely flew by and now we’re into October. I have probably eight or nine weeks left before I need to have at least a semi-solid idea about what I’m going to do when my contract ends. Right now, I couldn’t even begin to say. (I have some ideas but I haven’t entirely sorted through them yet. That will be a post for another day.)

    It’s been so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day routine of going to school, teaching, coming home and trying to be productive and/or working on self-therapy that sometimes I forget to stop and think about what I’ve done since coming to Korea, how I’ve changed and what I’ve learned.

    During my first few months in Seoul, I was pretty much in love with this city. I was having a great time, seeing new things, sometimes freaking out with excitement when I stopped to remind myself, “Oh my god, I’m really living in another country. I am actually living out a lifelong dream.” There were occasional things I had complaints about but overall, I really loved living in Korea.

    It’s not that I don’t still love it here. I do. Seoul is a fun city and there are a lot of things I’d still like to see and do here. However. I went through a rough period toward the end of the summer that made me question my desire to live here longer than a year and that really dragged me down for a few weeks (and those weeks turned into a month and a half, which is why I was posting even less than usual).

    A lot of that had to do with things going on at school (which I will detail in a later post). Several showdowns with a new supervisor brought everything I don’t like about Korea into focus – the indirectness in the workplace, the inefficiency that seemed to plague everything we were asked to do at school, and more than anything, the irrationalities and abusiveness that are unfortunately very much a part of the culture here.

    I went from being 99.9 percent certain I would stay another year to feeling completely at a loss in so many areas – all in about a week’s time. I was upset because I didn’t want what was happening at school to completely cloud out all of the things I like about this country. But in many ways, it’s impossible to separate the two.

    Things are better now, which is why I’m still very much undecided about what I want to do come February.

    Confused as I am on that subject, however, there are some developments I am proud of.

    I’m different than I was the day I left for Seoul. I always thought living abroad would be a life-changing experience and it has been in many deep and meaningful ways. I’ve learned that I’m more self-sufficient and capable than I ever gave myself credit for. I’ve had to be. Sometimes I think back on the night I arrived in Seoul: got to my apartment at 1 in the morning, had no idea where anything was or what awaited me the next day but I felt happy and calm. I trusted myself. And that trust has only deepened since I arrived.

    I stand up for myself. This is something I’ve struggled with for a long time and through hours and hours of journaling and introspection during the past few months, I understand myself better and feel more confident about being assertive and standing up for my own feelings and needs.

    I stand up for other people. The other day, I had my first experience of confronting a woman who was physically hurting her grandson. Abusing children is the most vile, evil act imaginable and so I’ve always hoped (particularly within the past year or so) that if I saw someone harming a child, I would do something to stop it. There is a blog post coming about this particular incident as well, but when it happened, I didn’t even really think, I simply acted. And I know the clarity and instinct I had in that moment also comes from the self-work and growth I’ve experienced since arriving in Korea.

    I have greater empathy for other people. OK, not always. There are times when I lose my patience with people here or become irritated by things a complete stranger might do. But now that I’ve lived in a place where I don’t speak the language and am often the only Caucasian on the subway or the bus, I’ll remember what that feels like whenever I’m back in the States and see someone struggling to communicate or find their way.

    I’m OK with the fact that I’m still learning. When I think back to my first weeks teaching, I’m torn between whether to laugh or cry. I was completely clueless about teaching children. Of course I had standards for how to treat them – but getting up in front of a bunch of kids who barely speak English and have no idea who you are is quite an experience in itself. There are still days when my lesson plans flop or I feel like I’m at a total loss but I’m OK with that. The kids and I have been developing good relationships and even when I completely miss the mark, they’re willing to tell me that and tell me how to be better.

    Of course there are still areas I struggle with when it comes to teaching and there are many aspects of my character that I am still working on. I know that in many ways, I have a long way to go and will be working on these things for some time to come. But it’s also nice (and reassuring) to pause in the midst of that and say, yeah, I think I’m doing OK. There might be setbacks and bad days but generally speaking, I’m doing good things and learning every day. And however frustrated or homesick or confused I might feel sometimes, I do not for one moment (and don’t think I ever will) regret my decision to move to Korea.

  • May3rd

    5 Comments

    OK, so two things right up front.

    1. I lied about posting more regularly. My intentions were good, really, but I’ve been completely engrossed in the “Song of Ice and Fire” series by George R. R. Martin and pretty much all of my free time has been devoted to devouring those books. And to trying to decide whether or not “Caprica,” the spin-off of “Battlestar Galactica,” is worth obsession status or is just OK. But that’s another story.

    2. This post has absolutely nothing to do with South Korea or teaching. In fact, it’s kind of a rant.

    I was on Facebook for the 80th time today when I got a suggestion to “like” the group “Curvy Girls are Better than Skinny Girls!” The eye rolling began immediately and I should have ignored it but…something possessed me to click the link. I regretted that choice right away.

    I despise these types of groups, mostly because this whole “curvy/heavy/fat pride” thing drives me in-frakking-sane. It’s not that I don’t think it’s important to be healthy and be comfortable with your body. It’s that the “in your face” element rings so incredibly false to me.

    First of all, I am always suspicious of groups and articles and statuses that cheer on people who are overweight. That’s not to say that all curvy women are overweight, and I do happen to think healthy curves are fantastic. But too often, I think, “curvy” is used as a way for women to falsely reassure themselves that “Oh, no, I’m not fat. It doesn’t matter than I’m 20 pounds overweight. I’m just curvy.”

    I read through some of the comments on the different statuses and while there might be a handful of people on there who actually are healthy and confident about how they feel, overall, it seemed like a lot of overzealous false pride to cover up a mountain of insecurities. This group obviously isn’t the only place where this sort of thing goes on. It reminded of an article I read last summer about the hubbub over Glamour magazine’s decision to feature a plus-size model and heavier women in the publication.

    They got a lot of positive feedback from women who said they were thrilled to finally see someone who “looked like them” in a mainstream magazine. This immediately set off alarm bells for me.

    On the surface, I guess the case could be made that this is a positive thing, promoting a more natural look, instead of an emaciated, airbrushed size zero. That’s not really what concerned me, though.

    My first thought upon hearing the positive feedback was, “That’s where your drawing your comfort and inspiration from? That a woman who is the same size as you was featured in a one-off photo spread in Glamour magazine?” There is just so much wrong with that.

    If you’re looking to fashion magazines to affirm your self-worth in the first place, you’re already in trouble. And so what if another woman is the same size as you? That doesn’t really mean anything when you get down to it.The fact that you have a similar frame and weight to someone else is completely irrelevant to whether or not you’re happy with your body or are healthy.

    I guess it sounds good in the moment, but I’ve tried that little trick and it actually has the complete opposite effect for me. I’ll be feeling insecure, look around until I spot another girl with a similar shape and say, “See? She looks good. That means I do, too. I’m totally fine.” But does that erase those feelings of self-consciousness and shame that I’ve been trying to keep at bay? No, of course not. And later on, I’ll find myself self-attacking for making excuses instead of doing something about my weight. I doubt that I’m the only woman who’s gone through this.

    Maybe Glamour was well-intentioned (and let’s be serious, targeting curvier and plus-size women, who generally seem to be left out of the mainstream fashion world’s consciousness, was also probably a smart business ploy), but I think it’s dangerous to draw on that as your source of inspiration when it comes to feeling good about yourself. Great for starting a conversation about body image, maybe, although the real issues at the heart of eating disorders and bad body image would probably be left out anyway.

    Moving on.

    Another thing that irks me is when people say, “So what if I’m overweight? My man (or whatever guy I’m interested in) should love me anyway. I’m awesome even with the extra pounds.”

    And you know what? You probably are awesome, and I’m certainly not saying that every woman should strive for Nicole Scherzinger abs and a Kim Kardashian butt. Not at all. But it’s been my experience, with my own issues and in conversations with many friends, that there is generally a lot of insecurity attached to body image, and the deeper those issues go, the more they are going to come out in other areas of your life as well. Rather than telling yourself you look and feel fine when you’re actually living an unhealthy lifestyle and managing your anxiety rather than addressing it is not exactly a loving thing to do.

    So when people say, “He should love me anyway,” I’m inclined to think, “Really? He should? Because you don’t love yourself enough to be honest about your feelings and insecurities, so why should someone else?”

    Then there’s the fact that these types of groups seem to pit “curvy girls” against “skinny girls,” thereby villainizing other women for being slimmer, which also smacks of insecurity. I’m always just a little suspicious of those who claim to be soooooooo comfortable with their bodies that they not only have to keep reminding everyone around them of that but also knock others in the process.

    Now, I should say here that I’m not just ranting for the sake of it or because I don’t feel empathy for people who love these articles and join these groups. The reason I feel comfortable talking about this is because I’ve experienced all of it. I honestly don’t remember a time when I wasn’t self-conscious about my body or convinced I was overweight. I’ve tried all kinds of diets, gone through hardcore exercising spurts, only to gain the weight back again.

    Celebrity magazines used to be like crack cocaine to me and I often tried to give myself false comfort and confidence by claiming to admire healthier, curvier looking women. I actually did think a lot of them looked great. But I remember feeling a little bit of shame and anxiety as well, because deep down, I was lying to myself, saying, “Look, she’s not so in shape so if this celebrity who has nothing to do with my life can look like that, I can be a little pudgier, too,” rather than face the truth about my insecurities.

    I told myself all kinds of stories – guys should like me anyway, it doesn’t matter that I’ve gained 10 pounds, who cares if I don’t like to exercise, I’m young and have years and years to start eating healthy…anything to avoid the actual work that comes with dealing with these issues.

    About a month ago, however, I made the decision to make real changes and instead of exercising and eating better because I “wanted to look good,” I’ve started learning about nutrition and also journaling and doing self-work to examine my history and relationship with weight and eating issues. It is partly about feeling better about my appearance, but it’s become a lot deeper than that, about having enough self-respect to take care of myself, physically and mentally. This is not to say I’m some shining example, but I do understand and live with the baggage that comes with all of this. Maybe that’s why I feel so annoyed and defensive about these types of articles and groups.

    Being overweight or having a negative body image can be emotionally devastating. I can’t speak for other people, but for me, it infected so many areas of my life. It’s painful and can bring on feelings of shame, depression, anger, bitterness – a lot of unpleasant emotions. None of those are easy to face. So yeah, in the short-term, it is easier to say, “Well, who cares. So what if I’m a little bit overweight? I’m great. People should love me anyway. I’m happy with the way I am. I’ll eat however I want. It doesn’t matter. I just don’t like exercising.” And on and on.

    But in the end, all the plus-size photo shoots and mythology and Facebook groups in the world don’t actually make a difference. In fact, they’re just more harmful tools that help people avoid really looking at their feelings and being honest and making changes in their lives. If you feel the need to shout your pride about being bigger at anyone who will listen, it’s probably time to start having a serious talk with the voices in your own consciousness.

    Real confidence and self-love don’t come from comparing yourself to someone in Glamour or solidarity with others who have similar burdens. It comes after painstaking, time-consuming work and honesty, not simply because you tell yourself you’re lovable and sexy at any size.

  • April25th

    2 Comments

    It’s been awhile since my last post, but I’m hoping to get back on track starting this week. Things have just been a little hectic with parent-teacher conferences and progress reports at school, and last weekend I went away on a hiking trip, which kind of threw me off. It was totally awesome, especially for my first hike, but being gone all weekend made me feel really behind on everything since then.

    Anyway. This week is a big one not only because I’m going to start blogging regularly, for real, but also because I turn 25 tomorrow. I’m not sure whether or not 25 is supposed to be a big deal birthday, but it’s going to be for me.

    I’ve given this a lot of thought during the past week. What do I want 25 to be? The other day as I was running at the gym, I thought, “I want 25 to be the year I stand up for myself.” I’ve always had a problem with this. No matter how many pep talks I’d have in the privacy of my room or while driving alone, I still felt anxious about sticking up for myself, and allowed myself to be around people who made me feel guilty, ashamed, unintelligent and/or small. That’s not a loving or healthy way to treat yourself, and although I’ve gotten better about this, the tendency is still there. It’s something I plan to be more aware of and really work on.

    That didn’t seem like enough, though. Standing up for myself is a great and scary thing, yes. But what do I really want 25 to look like overall? I want this year to be the one where I really start living authentically. Not apologizing for how I think and feel, being completely, truly honest with myself and the people around me, nurturing my curiosity about things and not letting fear or the critic in my head tell me I can’t do or understand something.

    I want to take care of myself. Not just emotionally and intellectually, but physically as well. Even though I’ve been through plenty of “healthy” spurts in the past, those have been kind of superficial and I never made any real lifestyle changes. So it’s time to start caring enough about myself to be healthy in all areas of my life.

    Maybe these things seem obvious since they are vital to a person’s happiness. As important as they are, however, these are the areas in which I’ve held myself back my entire life. I’ve worked hard these past few months to work through my problems in these areas, and I can feel that I’ve become a stronger person. Now I’m ready to take that to the next level.

    I’m really excited about turning 25. Even though I could make these changes on any given day, and have already started working on them, a birthday just seems like a good place to really mark this “new me.” Twenty-four was the best year of my life. I made some really dramatic changes that were at times quite painful and difficult, but ultimately brought me more happiness and freedom than I ever imagined possible. Now I’m excited to build on those and live with even more joy, understanding and curiosity.

    So I guess that’s that. Happy 25th birthday to me :)