Buddhism and brownies

I went to a Buddhist lecture today. I imagined that I was going to sit in a cold, metal chair and listen to someone give a speech about  Buddhism, but instead we went to a Zen Center, sat on a pillow on the floor, and meditated for half-an-hour. And then we had a sort of sermon, I guess, but the kind where a preacher (sorry, I'm basing this on my experiences from church because those are the experiences I have) gets down and tells you a story and then ties that story into a religious idea or message. It was sort of like that, but more intimate and possibly more thought-provoking because it raised questions and answers that left me feeling like I was on the brink of understanding without understanding anything at all.

I can't meditate. I don't know how. So I sat there with my eyes closed and I listened to all the sounds around me and then I focused on each part of my body. When I did that, I could focus inward and the sounds around me weren't so loud. And then I just thought. I figured that if I thought about something, that I could then think about nothing. And isn't that what meditation is about? I don't really know. But that isn't what happened. I just thought.

There was a mathematician in our group, he was Italian and had big glasses. He had a lot of questions. The Zen leader of our group directed a lot of ideas and questions back. He asked, "Do you know right and left?" The mathematician paused, it seemed like one of those questions where you know you'll get caught in your own answer and yet, the answer seems obvious, perhaps too obvious, and that's why we think it's a trick.
"Yes," the mathematician replied, hesitantly. "I know that this is my right and this is my left." The Zen leader asked him about directions, which he also knew. "Ok," said the Zen leader, "Are you right or are you left?" "I'm to the right of him and to the left of him." We all laughed. "No, not them, just you. Are you on the right or the left?" "I'm nowhere." "Exactly."

Exactly. Exactly what? I'm not sure I understand it, (although, to be fair, we were talking, or he was explaining, the idea of self. Who are you? What are you? Are you you? Is your body you? And that sort of thing) even though it's been in the back of my mind all day and I've repeatedly tried to muddle through. All I know is that it was an interesting experience into looking at things from a different way. And since I have questions, I'm always interested in people's answers, even if they are not my own.

I think I would like to learn a little more about Buddhism and what and how they believe. All in all, Saturday was a very interesting day. I went to a vegan bake sale. The pumpkin brownies were amazing. I think I'd like to try my hand at vegan baking when I go home and am in close proximity to an oven.

On my way home I saw a baby who looked like Buzz Lightyear (from Toy Story) and that sort of made my day complete.

On an unrelated note, my students wanted me to cut my hair in a highway, that is shaved right down the middle of my head. I told them we'd see. They were so excited, they even gave me instructions to give to the stylist! It was rather last minute, but Melissa and I came up with an alternative.

Updates from the classroom

Having a class put together their very own newspaper is a lot more work than I anticipated. So far, there are two articles on musicals, one interview with a nurse on heart problems, an article on inflation in Korea, one article that was clearly not written by the student, and one student who has lots of pictures but no story yet. And we have one week to go to print! I'm kidding. But we do have one and a half weeks left of the session and not everyone is on the same page, so to speak.

In other news, one of my upper-level classes wants me to cut my hair in a "highway," that is, shave a path right down the middle of my head. They are extremely hopeful that this will happen. The deal is that if I do it, one of the students will also get a similarly bizarre haircut. We'll know by Friday.

The best moment ever came last week in the same class when one of my students asked me, "Teacher, are you an actress?" Haha, no, kid, but I love the fact that he asked that. I had just tried to explain a tragedy, so I invented two characters who were in love but of course, couldn't be together. (Sorry, it's cliche, but I was put on the spot here.) Sometimes the students just look at me like I'm a little crazy, but I get their attention and usually get the point across. It's great fun, so if they think I'm a little crazy, it's okay, as long as they're getting it.

How we made it to the top

We went hiking at Suraksan this weekend (not to be confused with Seoraksan, which we did on Halloween, and is supposedly a 3 hour bus ride away from Seoul). I think it's one of my favorite hikes. It felt like it lasted forever and the peak always just out of reach, so once we hit the summit (at least one of them) we felt like we'd really accomplished something.
This hike was a combination of stairs (I really hate stairs), boulders, and trail. There was a pretty big group of us -- ESPN, her hubby, SOawesomelastname, E=mc2, SOawesomelastname's friend, and the Pirate (honestly, it's getting pretty annoying to give people 'awesome'/fake gangsta names on my blog. I forget who I've previously named what. And SOawesomelastname is NOT gonna last... I'm tired of spelling it 3 times already.) There were enough people there that whether you were ahead or behind, there was someone there to keep you company. So it was a nice hike up and down.
At one point, however, I decided to try leave the path and climb up the side of a mountain. It looked easy enough. There was a Korean in front of me who realized I was following him and when I started to wonder if I'd made a mistake, he said "Ne" (yes) and motioned me forward.
Let's pause. In the U.S. I probably wouldn't have followed some stranger up a mountain. Although, these people are here to hike. They're serious hikers, climbers, etc, which doesn't mean they can't also be axe murders but I'm just saying. But also, this is Korea and I felt pretty safe (with him, not nec on the mountain) and I usually trust my instincts and I didn't feel like I was taking an unnecessary risk. That's not until later.

So, my adopted guide pointed out where I should step and what I should hold onto and even held my hand to help me across a slab of rock. Suddenly we were on a hill and he wanted me to climb around a smallish overhang on a hill. What this meant was that, I was holding onto the bottom of a flat rock (meaning I was holding onto pretty much nothing), walking on a hill, leaning back and edging my way around.

I looked at it and looked at him. I thought he must be kidding. He encouraged me forward. I looked at it again and knew that one misstep would have me falling off that rock. This was not the sort of thing where I could slide down and stop myself. Because I'd be leaning back, that would be it. My heart raced. It wasn't that I saw my life flash, it was that I could almost taste myself falling. And yet. And yet. I knew that if I did it, it would be something I would always know that I had done.

The entire time, I kept saying "Aniyo, aniyo" (no) and he kept saying "Ne, ne, yes." My backpack weighed me back, which added to my terror of slipping and falling back, so once we were almost all the way around, he grabbed my bag, lifting up, taking some of the weight.

Oh, god, I finally made it. I was a little light-headed and some Koreans clapped, but I made it. My adopted guide was so nice, I can't believe he was so encouraging and helpful. I said "Kamsamneedah" over and over again, trying to express my eternal thanks.

After my adrenaline fix, I waited for the rest of my group to meet me on the path and we continued our climb. I always think it's more about the climb than the destination, but this time, the destination was such an accomplishment; we did it!

Where the arrow is pointing is (or is similar) to the scary overhang.

P.S. The guy who took the first picture told us to make fists because we had made it up. He was so right. What a great shot! He also pointed to my shoes and made approving sounds but looked at SOa and his friend's shoes and shook his head. "Aniyo," he said disapprovingly. My shoes got the nod of approval; I'm now an honorary Korean hiker!

"Just one snake?"

When Koreans go hiking, they are outfitted to go hiking. It is serious. When an American goes hiking, he or she might throw on some shorts and a t-shirt, grab their runners and a backpack and then they're off! Ready to hike. The Koreans however are completely decked out in full hiking gear - they have proper hiking boots, pants, hats, backpacks, hiking poles. And while I am puffing and panting up the mountain, holding onto trees to help me up, little old Korean ladies, Ajummas, are tearing up huge boulders, like impatient billy goats.

All their gear is wickedly colorful so they are easily spotted on the subways as well as on mountains.


I love hiking in Korea, though. Everyone is very friendly and we say hello (Annyeonghasayo) to everyone we meet. There is a stop and start to let fellow hikers up and down the trails, the way there isn't when people are walking in the streets. When people walk here, they usually move very slowly, as though they are on a leisurely stroll, which I find difficult because I usually have someplace to go. Or they stop suddenly in the middle of a crowd and you have to hit the brakes before you cause an accident. Or you might get shoulder-checked because, well, you were in the way. I still haven't mastered the art of aggressive walking here and half the time I'm looking up, gawking at something, so I probably am walking the same way.


Today we went hiking. Not in the usual place we go (Bukhansan National Park near our house) nor was it in Uidong where I went climbing. And it was a lot of stairs (I don't like stairs). I prefer boulders or rocks or trails. Not stairs. The hike itself was fine, there was a clear view of the city when we reached the top. The way back was much more interesting. C-M and I noticed a little path up over some rocks with a fallen tree over it and wanted to see what was at the top. We crossed a little bridge when another hiker, looking stern, told us "Aniyo!" (No!). We waited until he was out of sight and then we climbed it anyway.

For part of the way down, we started making up stories about pigeon spies who were reporting our activity to the army. (I don't like pigeons. In fact, I'm terrified of pigeons. There, I said it.) I wouldn't be surprised if they had lasers coming out of their little red eyes, guarding gates and keeping tabs on people (ok, not true, but good story, right?). They could probably eat people. They're persistent little buggers, which I would ordinarily find an endearing trait, but there is nothing endearing about a pigeon. (Ok, I will grant that there was that one movie that one time about the cute and brave carrier pigeon, but it was a cartoon; I don't think it counts).

I was being teased about being locked in a cage with pigeons. 100 pigeons, SN told me, and a snake. One of the passing Korean hikers said, in English, "Just one snake?" Haha, yes, just one.


The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to find a way back down, hiking through what turned out to be a fancy ditch (basically), finding MORE stairs which led to a suspension bridge (which I jumped on like a little kid at the playground. It was fun!), finding our way down and into the coolest neighborhood it Seoul-- Let me pause right there. If I could get a job/apartment RIGHT THERE, I would. It reminded me of Cali meet Old City (any city) with narrow alleys and gardens and mountains. It was amazing.


And now I'm home and ridiculously sore (I blame the stairs) and am currently looking into hiring a personal masseuse (ok, not really the last part). However, I would not be opposed to this as a Christmas present. Just throwing that out there.

Somedays in Korea

I love the sights and sounds and smells of walking down the main street in Gusan in the mornings. Street sellers are out with fruit and crabs and nuts and people are walking and it's colorful and the sun is shining and I want to take this feeling and everything around me and I want to breathe it in and take it with me and I want to share it. I want people at home to, not just see, but really understand what it's like just to walk down the street.

Where walking takes you

Last night I went for a walk. Not so strange, you'd think. You live in Texas or Virginia and you can go right outside and take a walk yourself. But last night, I took a right instead of a left and ended up walking down a street to a part of Gusan (my neighborhood) that I've never been to. Most places were closed but there were still a few shops open and a few people out and about. It was just after midnight. This is why Seoul is my city. I can go out, in the middle of the night and not fear for my safety. And things are still open. Life does not shut down because the clock struck midnight.

The walk itself was nice but it was also nice to see something new. And it was kind of sad. How is that I think I'm a great adventurer and explorer of things when I haven't even completely explored the area?

I like being here. I never thought that I would be here. I never imagined myself here. Never saw myself walking down these Seoul streets. And yet a part of me feels like I'm settling in. Like I belong. Four months in and I knew I wanted to go back home, but five months in and I can see myself coming back. This feeling is fleeting, though. It comes and it goes. I only mention it because it hit so hard last night.

Flower shop

I just had the best interaction with a flowershop keeper and his wife. There's a cute little flowershop around the corner from me that I have been eyeing for several months now. I just haven't had the courage to go in. In a place that small I feel that you're there to buy, not just to browse. Today I had to go in for my Treasures science class. We're learning about seeds and I thought we should plant some as well. So I was on a mission. Find seeds and soil before work.

I went in and in my pretty much non-existant Korean and his much better English, I explained that I needed soil. Soil, he got. When I tried to ask for seeds (in English), we hit our road block. Seeds. He asked me to write it down. So I did. Then I tried drawing a seed with an arrow pointing to a flower. Seed. I tried pantomiming planting a seed and it growing into a flower, but my charades skills failed me. He asked his wife. He wrote it out for her. Seeds. I wish I had asked someone to write it down in Korean for me. I wish I knew enough Korean to say it myself. He finally looked it up in the dictionary and said, "Ohhh!" and said it in Korean, which I've since forgotten. "Seeds!" And then he laughed. And then he showed me many packets of seeds, which were tucked away in a drawer. He took my drawing over to his wife and laughed some more. But it wasn't unkind.

I walked out with a small bag of soil and 2 packets of seeds for KW 2,500! Not only was it an interesting experience, trying to communicate, it was inexpensive as well. I've wanted to buy plants for awhile now, and now that I know a great place, I'm in!