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Saturday, October 15, 2005

Picture Post



Well, I knew you'd be disappointed if I didn't post a picture. This is Maxine at just about 1 hour old. She's still sporting a bit of the the amniotic styling gel look, but she's not nearly as grey and wrinkled as when she came out.

Still not sure if this will work, so I'm keeping my writing short. I'm not even sure if the image quality will be reduced on the site. If not, you will be able to save it to your computer and print it up if you like.

Peace,

Rob

Introduction

Well, I've stepped into some blog, gotten it all over my shoes, and am now tracking it into your computer. Sorry about that.

I decided that maybe the best way to keep my friends and family updated was by blogging, and Gmail linked to this one. Said I'd be able to add pictures, too. We'll see.

Wish me luck, and feel free to pester me if you think I'm not writing enough, or if I'm not answering the questions you think I should. I'm going to leave it open to comments, and hopefully that will keep the whole thing two-way.

Peace,

Rob

Sunday, April 04, 2004

Incomplete, January/February 2004

[Here we have another piece from the archives.  It dates back to 2004, though it refers to some events from 1993.  It is incomplete, though I have left the outline of how I intended to continue.]

Dear Friends and Family:

I started writing this right after Horyon left the States, and am just now finishing it [April 4th!]. The style was a bit demanding, so it took longer than I expected. So please, just assume that you received this the second week in February and forgot to read it until now. A letter for March will be forthcoming! -R

On Monday morning, my parents and I took Horyon to the airport and said goodbye. She had been getting more and more downcast the preceding week while I stayed cheerful. Monday morning I joined her in tears. It will only be two weeks that we are apart, but we are so very far apart, and I was worried about her traveling alone. We often care so much about the people we love that we forget that they can take care of themselves, don't we? At about 8:30 Tuesday morning she called to say that she had arrived at her parents' home a couple of hours previously. Almost exactly 24 hours after leaving my parents' home. I'm not sure whether she waited two hours to avoid waking me up or to have seconds on kimchi chigae, but I appreciated it either way.

I received some consolation from some friends dating back to my brief involvement with community theater. Mike Harford is the man. He grilled some thick, juicy steaks, still bloody, just like our primitive ancestors used to do right after running down a woolly mammoth. He cooked some shrimp and mushrooms in butter to give a sense of modernity. He made biscuits just for me (the Pillsbury kind, sadly unavailable in Pusan). He even made baked potatoes, though somehow they neglected to appear until after everyone was completely stuffed. (No, I did not eat one anyway, though I briefly considered it.) I can't think of any higher compliment for a meal than mentioning it to 90 other people in a positive way, so there you go, Mikey. Consider your meal praised. (It was only yesterday, but I still have a good-food buzz from that meal.) Joining us were Mike's lady-friend Penny and our dear mentor, Rumi. Rumi has been involved in community theater since she was a fetus, I believe. She is the most engaging person I know, very strong-willed (OK, stubborn), and she used to smoke like a chimney. (You could gauge how well a rehearsal went by measuring how deep the butts were in her ash tray.) She is in the middle of a kind of sabbatical now, and only smokes like a home chimney, as opposed to the factory kind. We had an evening of conversation that never slowed down and always offered an easy out if the topic wasn't to your liking.

Perhaps some background on these characters is in order; after I graduated from K.U. in the spring of 1993, and before I left for Nepal in the fall of 1994, I really only did two things, though I managed to do them at the same time: I directed the youth choir at church, and I got involved with the River City Community Players (RCCP) the local community theater. This was before I started my letter writing, and years before I had an email address. I had to walk to school in the snow, uphill, both ways... but I digress. My first part at RCCP was as a chorus member in "Paint Your Wagon," the musical popularized by the film version staring Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood. Yes, they sing in it, and no, it isn't as bad as you'd expect. It's worse. That's where I met Mike for the first time. He called me Sparky, told off-color jokes, and asked to have his finger pulled right from the start. No wonder I liked him so much. The show was memorable to me because it was my first experience acting outside of church. (For those of you who are alternate-history buffs, you might enjoy chewing on this: in the middle of production I got a call from a K.U. band prof. asking if I would like to run away and join a circus band. My main reason for not doing so was my commitment to "Paint Your Wagon." If I had joined the circus band, I might have liked it enough to continue on playing my euphonium professionally or not. It was only for the summer, but I would not have become close friends with Mike and many other wonderful people, and I probably would have had dinner Monday night with some jugglers and sideshow freaks. Ok, fade back to original digression.) I enjoyed "Paint Your Wagon", and tried out for the next show, "Bus Stop." You might have seen one of the movies based on it, one starring Margo Kidder, a.k.a. Louis Lane, the other starring Marilyn Monroe, a.k.a. Marilyn Monroe. "Wagon" was a large cast, more than 30 people on stage, I think. "Bus Stop" was what you call an ensemble cast. It had only half a dozen actors, as I recall. Even though my part as the bus driver was relatively minor, I was on stage as much as anyone else, with as many lines as anyone else. It was challenging, and fun. With still no word from the Peace Corps, I got involved in the next show. A musical called "Something's Afoot," another ensemble piece, this one with 10 actors.

"Something's Afoot" is a relatively unknown murder-mystery-musical-comedy in the spirit of Agatha Christie (including a song by the detective character acknowledging the role of said author). To the best of my knowledge, it has never been made into a movie, and there are no professional recordings of the music. Rumi was the director, and at a cast party for "Bus Stop" she approached me and asked if I would be her musical director for the show. At that point in time, Rumi was an almost mythical character. Everyone seemed to agree that she was a hell of a director and actor, but also intimidating as hell. I had met her, but as I mentioned, she smoked like a factory, talked drama and acting and plays I knew nothing of, and projected a sort of 10-foot-tall super-athlete-of-acting image that made me feel like the guy who makes sure there's enough little cups of Gatorade for everyone to drink. So when she asked me to be a general in her army, I was a little intimidated. However, I did say yes. And that show was a labor of love the likes of which I had never before experienced:

The intensity of our schedule, the difficulties we had, the sinking feeling of it not coming together followed by the rush of discovering that I was wrong. It snowed the first night of tryouts, and Rumi gave me the first of innumerable rides downtown, where we sat in the empty theater, figuring that no one would show up. We were wrong, of course, but some of the parts we cast from people who only came the second night. I also tried out, and was happy to get a smaller part.

We didn't have an accompanist. We had a very nice woman who could be there for most of the rehearsals, but would be out of town for the performances, and the woman who played for the performances could only be at rehearsals for a couple of weeks. And before we had any sort of piano player at all, Rumi gave me the score for the show and asked me to make a kind of demo tape so that she could start to visualize what to do with the songs. I eventually went to Donna, the director of "Paint Your Wagon," and getting her help to make some rehearsal tapes for the cast members, since we just did not have enough time to practice the songs at rehearsal. For some reason, Rumi seemed to think that the talking bits were more important. She even threatened to cut a song or two if I couldn't whip em into shape.

So I did.

Rumi told me last night that she still receives compliments on "Something's Afoot." I was floored, and quite proud. We also discovered that on Mike's video shelf he had two copies of our dress rehearsal. One was mine! Fear not, I will not inflict it on anyone who doesn't ask, but you will forever feel an emptiness in your soul for not having experienced The Dinghy Song.

Back to the much more recent past:

The day before Horyon left, Sunday, we sang in church with my parents. "Come Thou Fount (of Every Blessing)." It's a good hymn, with beautiful harmonies and meaningful words, and we received many compliments afterwards. To me, the beauty went beyond the music. It was a wonderful feeling to be with my wife and parents, harmonizing, working together to make something better than any of us could do individually. I've been singing with my folks for years, if you don't count the past ten, but it was Horyon's first time, and it worked. It sounded like we had been singing together for years, rather than just practicing half a dozen times.

We had lunch at Applebee's with Uncle Bob and Aunt Diane, as well as my dear friend Penny (different Penny), who has been like an older sister to me, only nicer. Mom and Dad were there too (always good to mention the people who pay for your meal, right?), and they had us at a long sort of j-shaped booth. This made it pretty much impossible to talk to anyone at the other end of the table. I suppose we were lucky that our lunch was paid for even though we didn't properly entertain our hosts. I won't even talk about the food, because some of you are still in countries where getting a good steak with properly cooked vegetables, Texas toast and mashed potatoes is an expensive prospect.

We had only run through our song once on Saturday, because we were pretty busy. We had Uncle Don and Aunt Becky from Topeka (sorry, I mean Wakarusa, as if anyone knows Wakarusa) and my cousin Mark (from Lawrence) over for dinner. It was a sort of farewell party for those who wouldn't be able to see Horyon the next day. Mom fixed The Potato Casserole. Around here you don't even have to say the', it is simply understood that potato casserole' is The Potato Casserole. It is made with hash browns, cheese, some kind of cream soup, and crushed corn flakes on top to give it a little crunch. Not a very complicated recipe, but very impractical to make in Pusan. I had seconds, and ate the leftovers the next day.

Did I mention that in Korea I was homesick for the food?

Anyway, along with The Potato Casserole, I fixed salmon on the grill, as there happened to be two huge frozen salmon halves in the freezer. Dad had just bought a new grill a few days before that, and this was our first time using it. It came out ok, but a little over-cooked. Everyone was quick to point out that over-cooked is much more palatable than undercooked, except Horyon, who believes that it is far better to not cook fish at all. Well, not really salmon, but fish in general. I kind of agree, and am actually looking forward to getting some raw fish when I return. Especially if I can get someone else to pay for it. It's surprising to me how expensive it is to have a food *not* cooked. Back to my salmon, which was cooked: I wrapped it in four foil pouches and put lemon slices with some, mushrooms with some, and garlic with some. They all tasted very good, in spite of being a bit dry, and almost all of it was eaten by the end of the meal. Now that's what I call a testimony.

Horyon and I were surprisingly hungry, as we had met Doug (Mark's brother) for lunch. He couldn't come to dinner, because he is an active duty reservist, and has to travel quite a bit. We were hoping to also meet with his lady-friend, Jackie, but she was feeling under the weather. Fortunately, we had met her previously, so she wasn't a complete mystery woman. But it was still sad to miss one last chance. Instead, my long-time previous ex-date for the prom, Penny, came along, too. Penny was, and still is, a youth group sponsor at my home church. She continues to be kind to me, even though I didn't take her to the senior prom.

Sorry again, Penny.

[This is where the formal writing ends. I left myself an outline, working backwards through a road trip we took and the days following.  One reason I never completed this was that a major event during this time was the death of my Grandma, Kathleen Lucille Matlock Sack.  We delayed starting our road trip a few days so that we could attend the funeral.]

Friday Suki and Ken Harmon
Thursday Grandpa+Grandma Euler
Wednesday Chris Sack+family
Tuesday lunch with C.G.
Monday home from Wichita
Saturday BRKFST w/Jon+Clarissa, no money to Wichita
Friday - w/J+C hanging around Albuquerque old town
Thursday- vomiting w/Jon's bucket, Horyon watches Godfather
Wednesday hotel breakfast, drive from Alamosa CO to Albuquerque, Jon VanHoose
Tuesday drive from Lymon to Alamosa, pictures in deep snow, mountain drive, halfway to Denver. Breakfast at McDonalds, return to Elon's to get sunglasses.
Monday hang out w/Elon
Sunday Catholic mass with Elon and Indira Calkum
Saturday drive to Lymon
Friday Grandma's funeral
Thursday Grandma's visitation
Wednesday weird limbo day
Tuesday back from Omaha
Monday drive to Omaha, visit Jerry and Michele Milburn
Sunday Church

Thursday, January 08, 2004

Christmas 2003 and winter travel

[Another from the archives. A couple of minor changes: I included my parents' phone number in the original, for anyone who wanted to call, but I don't really think it's a good idea to post it on a website that anyone can visit. I also typed "syllable" instead of "syllabus" the first time around. Other than that, it is the same as it was three years ago.]

Dear Friends and Family:

Well, we made it to America. My father-in-law picked us up at about 7:30 in the morning and took us, along with my mother- and sister-in-law, to the airport. After checking in, we had our last Korean breakfast: kimchi fried rice and fish soup. I was planning to sit by and eat nothing, but I couldn't resist.

It's been a day and a half since we arrived, and I am still jet-lagged, so don't be surprised if I drift in and out from one topic to the next, paying little heed to chronology.

And now it has been a few more days, and I am pretty much recovered. So let me catch you up a bit from my previous missive, keeping in mind that I don't have easy access to that missive, and may therefore overlap a bit.

Our Christmas in Korea was busy, and not very Christmassy. I was in charge of the Christmas Eve service at our church, as well as giving the sermon the Sundays before and after Christmas, as well as trying to finish my latest report before leaving the country. I managed to finish everything but the report, which is still waiting for my attention. I brought all of my materials home, and even made a trip to Lawrence to visit the K.U. library on Monday. Great library, and for an alum, or anyone with a Kansas drivers' license, you can get a library card for $10. Not bad.

But back to our Christmas: my parents sent us a small box of presents this year, despite the fact that we would be home a week or two later. It arrived a week or so before Christmas. Last year (well, I mean 1992, but you understood that, right?) I made us both wait until Christmas to unwrap our presents. This year we were both feeling worn out and down, so Horyon managed to talk me into unwrapping them all right there and then. It was very nice. Nothing to write home about (though I did)–just some clothes and small cute things. In a way, that was our most Christmassy moment. (My word processor doesn't like "Christmassy", but I don't care, I'm using it anyway.)

The Christmas Eve service went well, but attendance was low. I had planned for 60 and hoped for 100, but there were only 25 or 30, and most of those were our regular attenders. It was a bit depressing, but not until the next day. Holidays are always hard when you're in a foreign country, and the more different it is celebrated, the harder it is. Strangely enough, a holiday with no celebration (in the foreign country) is a lot easier to deal with. For example, American Independence Day (the 4th of July) is not observed at all in other countries. Believe it or not, they don't care that much. And some of them might be happier if we had never broken free of the British Empire, but that's neither here nor there. Christmas is observed in Korea, but in a very different way. Like biting into a lovely golden brown bun and finding that it's full of bean paste, Christmas has some of the appearance, but little of the substance of American Christmas. Korean Christians accept it as the Christ's Mass–a special church service, but no more so than the other Christian Holy Days. The secular view is very simple: it's a red day on the calendar. No school, banks and government offices are closed, and most people get the day off. It is more of a couple holiday than anything else. People meet their boyfriends and girlfriends, go to the movies, have dinner, then wake up and go back to work the next day.

Presents are uncommon, though some parents buy presents for their children. Korea already has a Children's Day in which kids are spoiled rotten, so there is not much cause to make December 25th another Children's Day. No big Christmas sales, and no big after-Christmas sales. In the past five years, I've noticed an increase in decorations and lights, mostly from businesses. Some people decorate their homes, I guess, but when you live in a shoe box apartment, you can't decorate the outside, and inside decorations don't show very much from the outside.

And so this Christmas, once again, I was in a bit of a funk. And knowing that I was going to be in America a week later didn't seem to help at all.

I spent the week after Christmas working feverishly on my report. I made some remarkable progress, but didn't consider it good enough to pass. So I have it here with me now, in my parents' home in Kansas. Just like the good old days. I'm planning to get it in the mail by this coming Monday. Should be no problem. The jet lag is mostly gone, though I still wake up and have to pee every couple of hours through the night. Horyon and I have slept 11 hours the past couple of nights, catching up for the past month, I guess.

We went with my folks to see "Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" yesterday. Fantastic. I'm very much looking forward to seeing extended versions of all three, and have already put it on my Christmas Wish List for this coming Christmas. If somebody doesn't want to be tickled until she screams, it had better be under the tree next Christmas!

We will be in America until February 9th, when Horyon leaves. She has a week of teaching starting on the 11th, then 10 more days of vacation. How annoying is that? When we planned this trip, she said, "Are you going to make me go back to Korea all by myself? Alone?" I tenderly held her hand, looked into her eyes, and said, "I hope you have a nice trip." I will be leaving my parents on the 19th, and staying in the Detroit area for about five days. I will spend time with Andy and Sarah Douglas near Detroit, as well as Rick VanManen near Toronto. Then back to Korea on the 24th. Classes start for me on Tuesday, March 4th. I turned in my syllabus during the last week in December. Can you believe I got it done that early?

Unfortunately, this means that we will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary, on February 17th, in different countries. I will be sure to have a nice steak dinner, and I'm sure Horyon will have soup and rice. In some ways an ideal meal for us, if only we could have it in the same room.

So as I return to my report (ten pages of baffling balderdash so far, not counting appendices and bibliographies), I wish you all a joyful new year, in which you find true Peace.

Rob

Friday, December 26, 2003

Thanksgiving and Christmas 2003

[I am once again dredging my old mass-mailing folder. Interestingly enough, Thanksgiving and Christmas from three years ago sound a lot like this year, with a few minor details changed. No spelling mistakes this time, and no big chunks seem to be missing. Enjoy!]

Dear Friends and Family:

I hope that you all had a good Thanksgiving or two. Horyon and I managed to have two. Maybe that makes us a little greedy, but I like to think it means that we're just lots more thankful.

Our Christmas was, by comparison, not a big deal. More on that later, though. Our first Thanksgiving was on the Saturday before American Thanksgiving. Horyon ordered a turkey from the same place we used last year.

(As you may recall, last year the turkey farm people were real turkeys. They sent us the bird three days early, and when I pulled it out of its styrofoam box, I found that it had been cut clean through the middle of the breast. On top of that, I couldn't cook the bird on Thanksgiving, so I cooked it the day before. When I reheated it in my oven, it dried out and became a sort of turkey brick. Not a good scene. Made good soup later, though.)

Back to this year: We had some of my former coworkers over for a potluck dinner. This time the turkey only had holes where you would expect them to be. I stuffed them full of a mixture of bread, onions, mushrooms and butter, popped the poor unfortunate thing in the oven, and five hours later impressed the heck out of everyone. It was a very familial kind of event, with some people even watching rugby on the tv. (What? Don't you all watch rugby on Thanksgiving?)

On Thanksgiving day we had another sort of party. My university, Kyoungsung University, invited all of the foreigners on their staff to dinner at the Westin Chosun, one of the classiest hotels in town. They had a buffet that...

Mmmm.... buffet.*

... so all in all it was a great evening.

In spite of having two separate Thanksgiving meals, both of fairly high quality, I missed being in America more than ever this year. I haven't been home for Thanksgiving since 1993, and I probably won't be home for Thanksgiving until 2006, if not later. (I've done a little better for Christmas, since I managed to be home for Christmas 1996.) In 1993, if you had told me that I would miss the next dozen Thanksgivings I would have questioned your sanity.

After Thanksgiving, we just sort of raced into Christmas, and now Christmas is quickly receding into the past, and our trip is preparing to jump on us, grab us by the throat and shake until we give up.

In church, I gave the sermon the first week in December, the third week, and this coming Sunday (the fourth week), as well as organizing and leading the Christmas Eve service. I've also been working on my 3rd paper for my master's degree. I need to get it finished before we leave Korea, and that will take some doing.

One of our members, Traci, had her mother come visit for the holidays. She brought fixin's for some yummy Canadian-style snacks. Some other members spent the afternoon decorating the lobby of the hall where we had our service. It was actually quite festive.

Post-Christmas Eve service Party

Of course, my job didn't just stop, either. For final exams, I interview my students. All of them. All 250 (give or take a dozen). I did a pretty good job of scheduling them–eight minutes per student, with 10 minute breaks every hour. I even had the interviews set up very well, such that the students had to basically interview me, asking follow-up questions (abbreviated on the blackboard as F.U.Q.s, much to the amusement of my colleagues) using the grammar that we had studied through the year. I did interviews for two weeks, from 3 hours to 6 hours per day. By the end of the whole thing, I was sick and tired of making up lies about what I was going to do the following weekend, or what I had done last summer. I always enjoyed talking about how I met Horyon, even when I had to use a simplified vocabulary and talk...

really...

slow.

I managed to compute my grades and get them turned in on time this semester, impressing my wife, colleagues, friends, and myself. So far I've had one student come in to point out a mistake I made. Ironically, it was the same mistake I made last semester–not entering his final exam grade. This time there were a couple of in-class assignments also missing. I think that at some point I had hidden his line on the spreadsheet. Dunno why, but it kept me from entering his scores. Ended up bumping him from an F to an A. And let me tell you, the poor guy was in a panic. I truly feel like Santa Claus now.

For Christmas day we went to the in-law's church for an 11:00 a.m. service. We were about 10 minutes late, so they made up for it by going about 10 minutes too long. They use their Christmas day service to officially recognize people taking new positions in the church–deacons, elders and such. They recognize them by reading their names. All of them. All 398 of them. Fortunately they skipped the 319 people who were re-elected to do something they had already done the previous year. Horyon told me that a lot of the names were overlaps, but still, you have to admit, this is a pretty big church.

After church we went to an expensive sea-food restaurant where my father-in-law paid for lunch: lobster and crab. Good stuff. They boiled it, then cut it open so we could eat it easily. My one complaint is that instead of melted butter for dipping, they provided gochu-jang(go'-chew-jahng: chilli-pepper paste). No big surprise there, as they provide gochu-jang to dip everything into. They even dip chilli peppers in a mix of gochu-jang and fermented bean paste. Sounds a little over-the-top, I know, but it works for me. (Except for the times when it peels the skin off my tongue and burns all the way down, giving me the spicy-food-hiccups.) In Nepal, they told me that chilli-peppers are good for when you are sick. Kills the little bugs living in your gut, as well as those little bumps on your tongue that you used to use for tasting stuff.

When we got home, we watched a copy of "A Charlie Brown Christmas" that I borrowed from a friend. Horyon was amused, and I was drawn back to my childhood. Do you realize that it came out in 1965? It seems very simple by today's standards, and the straightforward Biblical message it delivers would probably not be produced today. But the commercialization of Christmas is a modern issue that it tackles head-on. At the beginning Charlie Brown says, "I just can't get into the Christmas spirit. Every year it's a reminder that nobody likes me. Why can't I get with the program, Linus?" Questions I think we all ask from Christmas to Christmas.

Well, I have a ton of work to do in the next 5 days or so, so let me make one request: As much as I love hearing from you all, can you please send your next message on or after January 1st? Horyon would really appreciate it, and those of you who still haven't sent in your membership for Procrastinators Anonymous will totally understand.

I hope that your holidays bring peace to you, and I hope that you can make some joy for yourself and others in this season and coming year.

Rob


* I know it's silly to have a footnote in an email, but I'm doing it anyway to make up for going into a sort of memorial food coma. That buffet had turkey and potatoes and gravy, as well as a ton of other stuff. I didn't eat so much that I couldn't sit down afterwards, but I did eat enough that I didn't need any breakfast the next day. Mmmm... buffet...

Monday, November 24, 2003

Wedding, Typhoon,

[Once again, something from the archives. I edited out my previous spelling mistakes, but have otherwise left it alone. Enjoy!]

Hi everyone!

First of all, I've been delayed in sending this. Horyon wasn't very happy with it, as she thought it was a negative view of Koreans. This bothered me, until I realized that the couple involved was only half Korean. The other half was American, and God Bless Us, we sometimes manage to bring more than a little ridiculousness to situations. In a couple of weeks we will be attending their housewarming party. If any events at this party are worth passing on, I certainly will do so. Anyway, we have made reservations for our trip home. Well, I made reservations. And I've just discovered that they are, as usual, screwed up. We will still get to America, just...

Let me try to fix it first. I'll write to you more later. In the mean time, here is what I finished writing a couple of weeks ago:

Strangest thing. In Korea, I can't find the price of a plane ticket for next January until November. So on Monday I will go to my university travel agent and arrange our tickets home! I do have some bad news about this, though. Not terrible, just annoying. Horyon will be able to avoid teaching vacation classes (another in a vast series of Korean ironies) in her school this winter, but she still has to teach regular classes. Regular classes finish Dec. 31st, so we will likely leave January 2nd, just to avoid trying to fly on a holiday. She has to be back for regular classes on February 11th. That doesn't sound too bad, until you find out that they have one week of classes, then ten more days of vacation. So right now, our plan is for Horyon to return by the 11th, and for me to say another week or so. Once she's gone, I figure I can eat whatever the heck I want to. (She has threatened to return to Korea with my stomach, but I don't think she has the guts to go through with it. Blah ha ha.)

We are thinking of taking a road trip during the first week in February, visiting an Aunt and Uncle in Wichita, a long haul to Jon in Albuquerque, up north to see my friend Elon and his family in beautiful Limon, Colorado, then home again. Of course, this is all weather permitting, but Limon is in that little flat stretch of Colorado. They don't get as much snow as up in the mountains, so I think we've got a pretty good chance of getting there.

Back to the present. I have caught a cold. Or rather, it caught me. It's been running me down all week. Monday I was tired, slept 14 hours Monday night. I kept getting more tired, and waking up with my throat dried out. Thursday and Friday I taught my classes at the same volume I use talking with Horyon in bed. Rest assured that I was not as smooth and seductive while talking about asking follow up questions as I am when we talk about married people stuff. I was supposed to give the sermon tomorrow in church, but that has been nixed. We went to a coworker's wedding today, and I was still using that soft, husky voice, only even softer.

But let me tell you about that wedding. It was the strangest wedding I've ever been to, and I'm living in a country that specializes in bizarre weddings. Marshall had told us that he had put his foot down, and that there would be no smoke or bubble machines, two common devices in Korean weddings. They didn't want the hustle and bustle of a wedding hall (if your not married, photographed and gone in 45 minutes, it's FREE!), and they are not affiliated with any church (though I doubt many churches would be happy knowing that they had been living together for the past five years), so they decided to get married in a restaurant.

I arrived in time to sit with some of my coworkers and save a seat for Horyon, who had to come from work. After we sat down, the waitress came, poured us water, and asked what we wanted to eat. The choice was hamburger steak or fried rice. One of us ordered fried rice, but to no avail. The waitress came back and told us there was no more fried rice.

That's right. They ran out of fried rice. If you have never lived in an Asian country, that might not be shocking, but if you have, you are probably shaking your head to stave off insanity. Fried rice is nothing but rice, oil, some vegetables, a little meat, and kimchi. How does a restaurant planning a wedding luncheon run out of that stuff? People have been known to firebomb restaurants that run out of rice and/or kimchi! Craziness, friends, craziness. What is this country coming to?

Anyway, they brought us some bottles of beer, and we got started. Then the wedding got started. Ten minutes into it, we got our food. So we ate and drank through the whole service. The actual wedding ceremony was pretty typical: an M.C. talked for a long time, even a little in English, another guy talked for a while, they did the vow thing, they read a poem, they did one of those cute couple toasts where they intertwine their arms and try to drink cheap champagne without spilling it on themselves, then they cut the cake with a ridiculously large knife. Of course, they didn't kiss. And no one was there to give the bride away, as her parents think she is marrying El Diablo himself. His parents also weren't there because they've met her many times, and three weeks notice just isn't enough time to come to Korea for a wedding in a restaurant. After we finished our food, and they finished all the wedding stuff, the waiters kept bringing us food. We definitely had enough to eat, which is rare for a wedding service.

And the music was something else. Mostly they played organ music that sounded like the soundtrack to a 1960's soap opera, "Days of Our Lives," I think. That would be an accurate reflection of the spirit of the wedding (what with her parents protesting, and likely to show up any moment with baseball bats, or to say that her father was in a coma.). But then at one point it switched to the marching theme from "Bridge Over the River Kwai." You may not recognize the name, but you would know it if you heard it. Imagine 20 or 30 people whistling. When I was a kid, we used to sing to it:

"Comet, it makes your mouth turn green
Comet, it tastes like gasoline,
Comet, it makes you vomit,
so have some Comet, and vomit, today."

I'll see if I can attach it to this email. That will do the trick. It was also an accurate reflection of the spirit of the wedding (in that it was funny like only the soundtrack to a war movie can be).

And in the background, I could see four t.v.'s playing an action movie with Sly Stallone. It added immensely to the ambiance, as well as providing a bizarre sort of reflection of the spirit of the wedding (for reasons which I cannot at this time explain, but see as a sort of gestalt).

On a more serious note (I know, how is that possible?), going through the whole thing unable to speak above a whisper was an odd experience. I was a little frustrated at not being easily able to add content to the conversations around me, but I found that I was choosing my words more carefully. It was kind of the same teaching my classes. Usually I joke around, explain things many times, and talk over students who are being mildly disruptive, but not this week.

Then Sunday night I found that after a long hot shower, my vocal cords had loosened up. I could talk! Not perfectly, not loudly, but loudly enough that Horyon could hear me in the next room. Way cool! Monday morning I found myself better equipped to teach, though still tired as all get out. I managed to teach four hours without attempting to raise my voice, and found that most students in my classes were quiet and well behaved. So I have decided that I will no longer raise my voice to be heard above a class. It is inevitable that raising my voice is stressful to me, and speaking quietly calms me, so why not?

Let me back up to our minor disaster this summer. Perhaps you heard about typhoon Maimee that swept through Korea and Japan in July, perhaps not. The States got hit with a big one about the same time. Maimee was one tough dog of a storm. That morning I rode my bicycle for an hour, and that evening I rode our building. We live on the 19th floor of a 25 story apartment, and we could clearly feel the building swaying in the breeze. The water was sloshing in the toilet. The curtains were moving even with the windows closed. When we stood we swayed like a middle school slow dance without even trying. As a human being who has studied more about concrete buildings than most people, I felt confident that it would not fall down. However, this was the first summer for our building, and if I happened to be wrong it would totally suck to be buried in the rubble of a 25 story apartment building.

We managed to ignore it for a while, then the outside veranda window popped loose at the top. We have (sorry, had) a big, sliding glass picture window, about eight feet tall and wide. A four foot wide window complemented it. Of course, the small one survived just fine, but the big one came loose. It bounced back and forth between the outside wall and the hand railing. Bang-bang, bang-bang, bang-bang. That was too much, but we tolerated it. Until it shattered. The inside windows were still closed, so we got no broken glass inside the apartment. But then we were worried that something could be blown into the inside window, making a real mess.

So we went down to the second floor and hung out in the stairwell. Some neighbors who we hadn't previously met invited us into their apartment. They had good, solid windows. We hung around chatting, looking at their funny-looking baby, and I read a book. (Quick show of hands, who is surprised that Rob was carrying a book during a hurricane?) Around 2 a.m., the storm had slowed down some, so we nervously padded up to our apartment and went to bed.

I must say one positive thing for this apartment complex: the electricity went off early in the storm, but the emergency light system worked. One 90-watt bulb in each apartment. Stayed on all night. I was seriously impressed, as I half-way expected the light bulb to explode, spraying shards of concrete from the wall, wrapping the electric wires around my throat, and in all likelihood knocking over our wedding picture. I was pleased to find that instead I could sit and read my book, in between reassuring Horyon that we were not going to die in the immediate future, and that even if we were to die, I would die happily with her, though it would be a shame to miss the trip home this winter.

The epilogue to this little tale of terror is not yet finished. It took a month to get the window repaired, talking to three different window companies. Those guys made some serious money this summer, let me tell you. We got the cheapest fix we could, dividing the picture window top and bottom, with sliding partitions in both top and bottom. Since there was already a hand railing in the middle, it doesn't really change the view. Price, around US$750. We paid for it, but the building insurance should cover the cost. But they won't pay us directly, because we don't own the apartment. Neither does my university. You see, my university rents this apartment from a guy. He can collect the insurance money, whenever it comes. Then we get to bug him to give us the money. He has promised us to pay the additional costs not covered by the insurance. And then last night a representative of the insurance company called asking for our documents, because today is the deadline. We've already given the documents to the apartment owner, so what's going on?

As I wrap this up, it is Thursday morning. I have to be in my office at 12:00, so I have time to catch you up on this week. On Monday I went to a doctor for my cold. I had decided that if the cold had me for a week I would go, so I did. I went with the doctor's wife, who is studying with a coworker of mine. Ginger (her nickname) speaks English fairly well, and interpreted for her husband, who was very shy. They were very kind to me, and set me up with the "premium" prescription. Ginger explained to me that most Korean patients complain because the medicine is too expensive, so he will sometimes write a cheaper prescription. She explained this while paying for me, which I could not talk her out of. The price was only about $10 for the IV and two days worth of pills. And people complain that this is expensive? Good luck seeing a doctor in the States! Anyway, the prescription was six little packets of pills. Well, not so little, I guess. The packet has five capsules, two pills, four half-pills and a quarter-pill. I actually managed to get the whole packet in my mouth and down my throat at one shot, though it took a few gulps. I was supposed to take them with food, so on Monday I took one packet of pills. That night I didn't get to sleep until three in the morning. Didn't feel sick, in fact I felt healthier than I had for the past week. I woke up Tuesday around 9:00, and took my medicine that day with lunch and dinner. Tuesday night I didn't go to sleep at all. I went to bed, read for a while, lay there for a while, then got up and watched TV, wrote most of this document, read some more, and spent the morning with Horyon as she woke up and got ready for school. On Wednesday I had six classes of students doing presentations. It was a long day, and I was much more lively and aware than I would have expected. I made sure to take my medicine Wednesday morning, just to make sure I got through the day. By the time I got home, around 4:30, I was ready to crash. I had to deal with the insurance guy, but I got to sleep by 5:30. I slept until 7:00 this morning. Now I feel good, though I still have a bit of a lung cough. At least I'm sleeping.

Well, if this wasn't the most boring mass email I've ever sent, it won't be for lack of trying. Have a pleasant day, stay healthy, and avoid typhoons.

Peace,

Rob

Thursday, September 18, 2003

Correction +

[Perhaps you found the error, perhaps not. You may have wearied of reading the previous post before getting to it. Anyway, here is the follow-up.]

Dear All

Sorry, we are planning to stay for only 6 short WEEKS, not 6 months. Never fear, the next time we come home after this it will likely be for at least a couple of years. My mental slip explains why I had so many questions about what we were planning to do with so much time in the states. Huh? So much time? What do you mean how did we get time off? It's winter vacation! Now I understand that sometimes when the people around me act like morons it is a direct result of my being a moron.

Anyway.

We had a wonderful dinner with the in-laws tonight. We grilled beef in the middle of the table while we sat around on the floor (the table is only about a foot tall) stuffing ourselves. There were also a big bunch of shrimp and mushrooms cooked in there, too. As usual, I ate more than I should have. Food like this is difficult to resist.

afterwards, my father-in-law offered me a special drink, from Russia with love: It was a bottle of vodka with something black floating in it. It was about six inches long and as big around as my thumb, and bits of it had flaked off and were floating around in the vodka. Horyon told me that it came from near the river, and it was very bitter. I was trying to think of what plants grow near rivers, a pretty tricky concept for a guy who knows nothing of plants. Then she said it was from bears. Bears? River?

Oh no. Please, God, no. Not river. Liver. From near a bear's liver. Frankly, I can't think of
anything near a bear's liver that I want to stir my vodka with.

I told Horyon that I really didn't consider this to be a treat, and wasn't all that interested in stamina, if you know what I mean. She insisted that this was very expensive stuff, and good for my health, so I gave in. Mr. Kang poured me about a quarter inch of it into a cup, then went to get some water. I sniffed it, then took a sip. That is when I discovered what bitter really is. It isn't about working your butt off and getting a C+ while the class kiss-up gets an A. It isn't about your best friend stealing your girlfriend. It's about this obnoxious bear-gut cocktail.

I couldn't conceal my reaction to this anymore than the reaction to a swift kick in the crotch. Foul, foul stuff. Eye of newt and all that. Nasty.

After the laughter subsided (what are family for?), Mr. Kang topped my glass with water. I sipped it, and could still taste the stuff, but after an undiluted dosage it was pretty tame. I even got Horyon to wet her tongue with it. I then decided that this was too important to pour down the sink, and that it would be too shameful to not drink it, so I chugged it.

I rinsed my mouth with watered down whiskey from my pre-dinner drink. I was glad I had barely touched it, because it tasted remarkably refreshing after the bear juice.

After we got home, I made Horyon look it up in the Korean-English dictionary. I had guessed right, it was a bear's gall bladder. Yes, I drank bear's gall bladder vodka, a much sought after drink in Korea, where people pay obscene amounts of money to eat and drink things that will make them perform well in the bedroom.

And that concludes today's vignette. I hope that you managed to read this after a meal, and not before.

Peace,

Rob

=====
I used to think that my brain was the most important part of my body,
until I realized what part of me thought that.
-unknown (to me, anyway, but I got it from Jon, who got it from some
anthro prof's door)

A Brief Introduction

Roblog is my occasional outlet. When something bubbles up and demands to be written, it shows up here.