Conjugated in Polite Form: 썸 [sʌm]
Definition: An undefined relationship between two people
Note: The word 썸 is an abbreviation of the English word ‘something’ and is commonly used to describe the stage in a relationship where nothing has been officially stated, but the two parties are clearly more than friends i.e there is ‘something’ between them.
Save the Date
So, back when I was living in Canada I worked as a cashier supervisor at a local grocery store, and after six years slaving away on the register I can say with absolute certainty that I have seen it all. From dedicated price matchers and coupon cutters, to junk food junkies and impulse buyers. But none of that experience matters when you are thousands of miles away from home, in a small country town where half of the food you took for granted does not exist, and the other half has jacked up price tags.
It is a challenge, to say the least.
But there are ways of working the system to your advantage. For one, you can always order your food online and have it shipped directly to your apartment within a couple of days thanks to Korea’s expedited delivery system. Or, you can learn to make do with what is available, and adjust your budget as needed to incorporate the tastes of home.
Which is what I have done. Partially because ordering food online is a bit of a logistical hassle, but also because I want to learn how to adapt to the country I am in, instead of clinging to the one that I have left.
Though of course, there are definitely things that I miss, such as bagels and the variety of cereals. Oatmeal. Rice cakes, the puffed ones, not the Korean sticky ones. Salt and Vinegar chips. Cheese. Canned soups. The list goes on and on.
But ironically one of the things that I miss the most…and the main reason I am writing this post. Is the expiration dates.
I don’t know about else where in the world, but in Canada most expiration dates outlast the shelf life of the food. Meaning that for the most part the food will be eaten before it can even think about going bad. But in Korea, especially for naive foreigners such as myself, it tends to be the opposite.
Take yogurt for instance. I have definitely bought containers with expiration dates extending up to a month. But in Korea? I am lucky if they last until the end of the week. Same goes for milk. In Canada, most milk bags will last anywhere from 14-21 days, but in Korea it is more like 4-10.
And don’t even get me started on the bread. I would buy a loaf Monday, and when I say loaf I am not talking about some fresh baked bakery shit, but plain old regular bread that by the weekend would be either stale, moldy, or some combination thereof.
The food here just doesn’t last, and while that is probably an indication of the lack of preservatives and hormones present in the food, it is still annoying to have to constantly worry about whether the dinner you plan on having will have gone bad by the time you go to make it.
So I guess the lesson here is: shop for the short term.
Or make http://www.coupang.com your new best friend.
Halls: Candy or Cough Drop?
Now I don’t know about you, but where I’m from Halls™ is a medicinal candy taken to relieve common cold symptoms such as nasal congestion, sore throats, and coughs. But in Korea, for some reason, it has not been marketed this way; to them it is purely candy. No one will buy this when they are sick, though you will see them chewing on vitamin C tablets.
Sseomthing in Seoul
Note: This post will be the first in my “Kiss and Tell” series, and may contain some content not suitable for parental and familial reading. If you wish to continue reading however, you may do so provided that you refrain from any judgement or eye rolling *cough* Mom *cough*
휴게소 [hʉgæso]
Conjugated in polite form: N/A
Definition: Rest Stop
Note: In the West, rest stops do exist but not in the same way that they do in Korea. In the West a rest stop is typically a place that you stop off at during a long drive, it can be a coffee shop, gas station, or fast food restaurant. Or, in some very rare cases, it can be an actual building filled with all of the above. And that is kind of what you will find in Korea. A building filled with food, coffee, and of course…a bathroom. The only difference is that in Korea it is taken to a whole new level, because in Korea rest stops have their own notable cuisine; street food that can only be found on these off-highway stations. Also, as per the name, you can actually rest at Korean rest stops…as in there is a separate area with beds for drivers to lie down in.
Cool right?
Facing Facts
In my previous post, ‘Skinned Alive,’ I talked about how since arriving in Korea my skin has become increasingly inflamed and acne prone. And while Korea is known for its extensive array of products, many of which are positively recognised in the beauty community, none have proven effective on my current skin condition. Which would normally mean a visit to my family doctor for some topical medication. But in a foreign country there is no family doctor to visit. So, where does that leave me?
Well, for starters, it leaves me with a very empty wallet, because as a foreigner in Korea you almost always have to go to one of the larger cities in order to deal with anything remotely medical. And of course, I chose to go to Seoul. A city nearly four hours away. Sounds crazy, right? But when it comes to problems of the skin, there is no place better. Unlike most Western countries, dermatologists in Seoul do not typically prescribe medication to treat skin conditions, but rather innovative treatments such as micro-needling, lasers, and cell therapy that are designed to cure as well as prevent.
Though of course, I ended up being an exception.
After doing a consultation with the staff at AMOA skin clinic, I was told that I would need to take a drug known as accutane alongside the cell therapy. Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with accutane, it is an oral medication often prescribed for severe cases of acne because it is quite strong, and has potentially dangerous side effects. However, it has also been proven effective, and in Korea, because of the strength of the drug, they will only allow for a short-term prescription.
Now, with regards to the cell therapy…I’ll be honest, I still don’t fully understand the treatment, but it involves some sort of machine which apparently helps to promote the flow of oxygen in the skin. Or something along those lines. Either way, it was non-invasive and painless, and since receiving the treatment on Saturday I have noticed an improvement in my skin. But it is exceptionally costly. I will not say how much, because I don’t particularly feel like being judged for my spending habits, but it was a lot to say the least.
Although, it is important to note that I did not just walk in, get handed a prescription, hooked up to a machine, and sent off on my merry way. The people at AMOA do not fuck around when it comes to patient satisfaction. They were determined to improve my skin then and there, so that I left with more confidence than I had arrived with. And while I appreciated all that, the fact of the matter is that it hurt.
It hurt like a bitch.
Mostly because they had to address my current inflamed skin, which meant that they had to do an extraction of the irritated areas. So I basically got poked by a needle…in my face…repeatedly…for half an hour. No wonder, I started crying. It wasn’t even a quiet, subtle falling of tears down the cheeks either, it was full blown shaky breath and quivering lips.
I felt like an idiot.
And it gets worse. Because immediately following the cell therapy were injections, which on paper didn’t sound too terrible. I knew it would hurt, but I assumed it would hurt in the same way that going to the dentist hurts. In other words, it would be annoying but tolerable. And for the most part, that is exactly what it was. I say for the most part, because as it turns out I am still deathly afraid of needles, a fact I keep forgetting because the fear only presents itself when the needles break the skin.
So once again, there I was crying in front of the Doctors and nurses, wishing that I could explain that no, they are not hurting me, I am just a giant scaredy cat.
At any rate, I was fine by the time that all was said and done. My skin did not feel sore or tight, though they had applied a high-end moisturiser. They also provided me with a face mask, and strict orders to limit sun exposure. So for the rest of the day, I felt like a celebrity trying to avoid recognition as I wandered the streets of Seoul with my hat and mask.
It was not a particularly fun day. But, as far as medical visits go, I feel the need to applaud the AMOA staff. They did an absolutely wonderful job of treating me, whilst maintaining a friendly and cordial atmosphere.
It almost makes having to go back not so terrible.
Skinned Alive
Korea is considered to be the pinnacle of skin-care, with a vast array of products and treatments. But emphasising a clear complexion is not the same as having one, especially where foreigners are concerned. Whether it is the anxiety and stress of travel, the sudden change of diet, or prolonged exposure to the rampant pollution, fact is that many foreigners living in Korea find themselves battling against breakouts. Even those who may have had no history of acne may suddenly find themselves in need of some heavy duty face-wash. Which, for individuals such as myself who do have that history, unfortunately means taking a trip down a very sordid memory lane to a time of pimples and adolescent brutality.
In other words, you will find yourself wishing that mirrors had never been invented.
Or that the whole world had been made blind.
Because God forbid that someone look at you.
But oddly enough, it is not having to wear this face in public that is the worst. It is the irritation to the skin. That constant soreness, which you cannot make stop no matter how hard you scrub, or how often you wash. And believe me, I have tried. Ever since the first blemishes started to appear in hoards on my face, I have been washing twice, sometimes three times daily, as much as needed to remove the fine layer of oil from my skin. On top of which I have been regularly using my speciality toner, spot treatments, and face masks.
If I thought it might help, I bought it.
And hopefully, given some more time, the products I have purchased will bestow a miracle on me and I will be able to return to my prior state of not bad, but not great skin. But if not, if the worst should come to pass, and I remain like this. My plan is to seek out a dermatologist in Seoul, because having acne sucks. You feel as if a spotlight has been put on you, except instead of highlighting the best parts of yourself, it highlights only what is ugly. It makes you want to hide from the world.
And I have spent too much of my life already doing just that.
As I imagine, a lot of us have. Whether it is because of our skin, weight, face, or some other physical feature. The truth of the matter is that for many of us out there, not fitting into that societal ideal of beauty is the same as landing in jail in a game of monopoly. You just sit there, alone, watching as everyone else continues to play, wishing for that way out to come.
Which it will.
The key is to be patient, and to remember that you do not necessarily have to love yourself as is. If you want to change do it. Just make sure that it is for the right reasons. You shouldn’t change to please society, or the crush you wish would hurry up and like you back already. Only yourself. So, if you want plastic, weight-loss, or facial surgery. Get it. Do whatever you need to do to get to a place where when you walk out the door, you don’t have your head hung low, but held up high.
Because God damn you are gorgeous and you want the whole world to know it.
Jangsu
When I first applied to the EPIK program I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would not be placed in one of the larger, more tourist friendly cities partially because I didn’t have the qualifications, but mostly because I didn’t want to be. I wanted to experience authentic Korean culture, without the familiarity of Western influence. I wanted the ability to walk out my door, knowing that I would not have English to rely on, that I would have to speak their tongue, abide by their norms and values, because this is a foreign country.
It should feel like one.
But there is a huge difference between being outside of Seoul, and being somewhere that most Koreans don’t even know the name of. I am talking middle of nowhere, stray dogs and cats, fields and fields of grass, all nestled in a valley of mountains. It is admittedly beautiful, but life here is not as easy as I imagined it would be.
For instance, if I want to go grocery shopping I have to make multiple trips because I can only buy as much as I can physically carry, and if I want cosmetics or other hygiene products, it’s a trip to Jeonju, a city two hours away, which wouldn’t be so bad if the last bus back to Jangsu didn’t leave at 9pm.
And if you know Korea, you’ll know that 9 is when people start their evening out.
But as inconvenient a place as it is, I actually kind of like Jangsu. Surprising, I know. But despite all that it lacks, it is a very content county. The people here are kind, and the students sweet. I can see myself spending the next year here with a smile on my face, going for runs in the shadows of mountains, grabbing a delicious caramel macchiato in the cafe beneath my apartment, meeting other teachers for a quick dinner, or hitting up the farmers market on weekend for fresh fruit.
It is a place so different from anything I had hitherto experienced in Korea.
Which, I am starting to think, is a good thing.
After all, I wanted something authentic. And what could be more authentic than a small town, so remote that Western influence has yet to find it?
그치 [gɤtʃi]
Conjugated in polite form: 그쵸 [gɤtʃo]
Definition: Isn’t that right?
Note: This is a challenging word to directly translate, but for all the Canadian’s out there, it basically is the same as saying ‘eh’ at the end of a sentence.
21/04/19
They say that airports have the most honest goodbyes, as if there is some degree of decorum to be found in the final farewells witnessed before the departure gate. And maybe there is. But I assure you that none was present when I watched my mother’s face collapse in on itself as whatever composure she had clung to slipped through her fingers. There is nothing worse than a mother’s tears, especially when you yourself are the cause, as I am. Ever since my move to Korea became official, I have been asked the question “why?” as in “why are you leaving us?” as if I wanted to put an entire ocean between myself and those I love, which I assure you I did not. I just needed to go, to reinvent myself away from unwanted mirrors, and see whether or not this idealized version I have myself can become the reality. I just wanted to take a risk.
But at the same time, isn’t this something I have always done?
For highschool, instead of going local, I decided to audition for a special program that, if I got in, would separate me from everyone I had ever known until then. Same with University. I had the option of choosing a school many of my peers would have gone to. But I didn’t. Instead I chose a campus in the middle of nowhere, with no familiar faces. I have often placed myself in various unknowns in an attempt to see whether I would sink or swim, as the saying goes.
So far, I have always managed to swim.
But this isn’t swimming, this is flying.
This is thirteen hours of being amongst the clouds. And I have always been afraid of heights.
So yes, I am scared shitless. And yes, I am sad. For all those who looked on me with incredibility, wondering how I could leave so much of myself behind, know that I am sad. That there are pieces of myself still in Pearson, left waiting before the Arrivals for the day I come back home. And home for me, as I have said, is with the people I love. And I miss them. I miss them so fucking much that I am willing to swear even though I know my mom might read this. I miss them so much that I have already spent my first night crying silently, hoping the people on the plane, in the hostel, would not see the tears tracing all the words I could not say down my cheeks.
Because there is so much I could not say. After all, how do you infuse a goodbye with all the longing you have for that goodbye to become hello once more? How do you translate a hug, into an I love you so powerful that it brings your heart to its knees? How do you erase miles of distance so that distance becomes meaningless, becomes a word devoid of all the miss yous, and come back soons.
I promise to come back soon.
To return with stories of my adventures tucked like postcards in my back pocket. To remember every single name and face, holding them like a mantra on my lips. I promise that this will all be worth it. In the end. I promise that I will make this year the starting point for so much more, because as scared of heights as I am.
I fear falling so much more.
Echoes From The 6ix 