If I could really tell you what you’re asking, you’re asking how it is? What it’s like? I have stories to tell and places to describe. To me it is not enough, because I am in it. When I talk just listen. These Korean places reside on my lips and the lips of others who have experienced. You are not here. You cannot know. Those are the facts. You see it’s been three weeks, almost. I feel like watching Persepolis on the plane was an exit factor for me. And then I was here. And here I eat, drink, and work. I shop but with little confidence, in the knowledge that my money will not increase until some time.
I shadowed for two days and taught two after that and it worked for me. In these three weeks not a lot has happened. I can now go outside by myself, because I have done so a handful of times. There is no need to congratulate. I already have. It’s hard for me to realize, even the smallest thing. Realize- to be fully aware, to comprehend completely.
Realize that I’m here, that I work, that I have friends?, that I’m eating Korean food, using Korean won. What’s the big deal? I think this is how I often handle life in general. I know it’s a different place, but I can’t let it be very different or else I’d be affected. Quite possibly in a negative way?
Remember those streets in Myeong Dong and how crowded they were? Unreal. The buildings lie one on top of each other like sleeping kids that drool in the back seat on a family vacation, only cleaner, more neon. Remember staying out till the subway ran again? I wasn’t the only one there. Everyone has a story, find it out, listen. You are never really lost. I know how to get home. I am never really lost. My Chicago knowledge tells me Itaewon is like Lincoln Park, visitable yet avoidable at the same time. A guilty pleasure at best.
And the food? Kimchi can wait for later because right now it ruins meals. But I like kim-bop and bulgogi. I have a big addiction, and it’s growing, for Pizza School. It’s obviously pizza. They put hot chicken on their pizza. They put sweet potato on their pizza? They serve pickles with their pizza. I want some Pizza School right now. It is down the street from me.
Once I loved the subway here. Only because I was able to independently navigate it. Now I am not so sure. There is only used oxygen in that subway. You feel like dying. It is similar to a bomb shelter and it you let it, there will come a creeping feeling of claustrophobia. It is common to stay up late here.
Most of the time I can be tired. From trying, not failing. Just trying. I can conquer. The two of us soon will.
