Memory Lane

It took me almost 24 hours to get to my apartment in Seoul. I arrived during a typhoon and was greeted by wind, rain, and a young Korean man who would be my driver from the airport. When I was riding along in the passenger seat in his car I had a million questions but was in a fog of jetlag and nerves. I looked at all of the buildings which had signs written in Korean, gazed upon the different architecture, and felt overwhelmed by the completely unfamiliar surroundings I had chosen to take residence in for the coming year. When my driver and I arrived at my apartment it turned out my room was not ready yet, so we ate a late dinner at Paris Baguette, a popular chain here in Korea. My first meal was an asiago bagel and overpriced vitamin water. It was almost 11pm and finally a sweaty, chubby, Korean man arrived at my apartment to let me in. I didn't know he was our go-to maintenance man, Mr.Lee, who worked at my school. All I knew was that I needed to lay down ASAP. My driver and Mr.Lee left me to unpack and go to sleep, and I glanced around my new apartment. My humble abode was totally empty, totally foreign, and I didn't quite know what to do with myself. I looked at my suitcases in disbelief. I looked out the window at the less than exciting view, and I looked around every nook of my apartment. I had an odd balcony where my laundry machine was, and when I opened the door to my bathroom I was perplexed by the fact I had no tub. There was two beds in my room and I had a momentary panic I would have to have a roommate for the coming year. I told myself, "Just go to bed, and it will somehow all make sense in the morning."

After a rocky, tossing and turning kind of night, I woke up at 6am unable to sleep anymore. I got ready for work, trying to look nice and professional, and headed out onto a nearby street to find breakfast. I went into a NesCAfe across the street, where they spoke no English whatsoever, and ordered a blueberry bagel. Desiring a taste of home, I then got a Starbucks coffee and headed back to my apartment. A fellow teacher was told to walk me to work the next day so I made sure I was waiting outside of her door promptly at 9:20am. Her name was Grace and she was also from North Carolina. Funny enough, we actually went to the same highschool and had quite a bit in common.

We walked to the main street and she shouted "Run, it's green." She began running across the street and I realized she meant the crosswalk was green. Once on the other side she explained that the crosswalks in Korea take forever, so when its green you run to catch it. She then uttered "I need bananas" and she walked into a place called the "CU." I put together that this must be like a CVS or Walgreens or something and soon saw they were everywhere. On the walk to school, I had all the usual questions; "Do you like it here?" "How long have you been here?" "Whats teaching like?" "Are you glad you live in Seoul?" "What do you do for fun?" I must have been like a 20 questions machine, and I'm lucky she answered any of them the way I was bombarding her for information. I wanted to hear that I had not made a huge mistake moving across the globe, and for the most part she reassured me, but also told me quite clearly the school we work at has many flaws. Her answers made me a bit nervous but being a half-glass-full kind of gal I didn't read too much into it.

Before I knew it I was at school being introduced to everyone and being asked how my trip over to Korea was. I soon met other new teachers that had already been there for a few days as they got into town before the typhoon, and we observed numerous classes together. I remember thinking that everything the Kindergarten kids said or did was the cutest thing I had ever seen. Their beautiful Korean faces were flawless, their hair full of bows and headbands, and all of them, boys and girls, so stylish. We watched a verteran, Jake, who had been teaching for 3 years and was a pro at the whole LCI style of teaching. He was incredibly helpful, kind, and encouraging and made it look so easy. I went to lunch with the other new teachers and my boss and had my first real Korean dish. It was a seafood soup that was incredibly spicy and almost burned my mouth off. It came with an array of sides that I was cluselss as to what they were. Everything was Korean; the menu, the people, the food, and the language around me. I felt completely engulfed in this new culture and truly could not swallow the amount of differences there were in this culture opposed to my own.

After the day of teaching was almost done, I had to sit in a meeting about the rules and regulations of my new school until 7pm. I remember my boss looking at me and saying "Are you OK?", as I looked like death warmed over. I had slept probably 8 hours in two days and the jetlag was coming hard and fast. Once I was allowed to leave, I went back to my empty apartment and got into bed immediately. I was woken up by a new teacher coming through my apartment door who was going to be my TEMPORARY roommate for a few days until her own apartment was ready to be inhabited. She also had a million questions about Korea, my first day, about the ins and outs of teaching here and wanted to pick my brain. She was from Canada and I'm assuming she also wanted some reassurance that she had not made a cross-continental move she would regret. I gave her as much positive feedback as my body could handle, then muttered something about jetlag, and pulled the covers over my head. 

My first day was done, and I could not wrap my head around this seemingly insane choice I had made to live in Seoul. A city that I knew little to nothing about, where I could not speak the language, and that was millions of miles away from my friends and family. The upcoming weeks were difficult and challenging in a refreshing way, and soon enough I found my balance. I had a great friend, I had found good food to eat at some staple restaurants, and I had decorated my empty apartment with fun accessories from the local equivalent to the Dollar Store and memorabilia from home. What I didn't know back then was that the challenges I faced in my first few weeks and months of living abroad would actually be challenges I would face all year. The ability to conquer this city in a year is impossible, and the handicap of not speaking the language is often still a problem. But the adjustment period started to come to a close, and finally I started to see Seoul as my home.

"Don't take it personally"

“Don’t take it personally” is something I have heard all my life. Whether it was at my job or from my family and friends I have heard it too many times to count. “You can’t take it so personally Nicolette because it will upset you.” Well I know that I am a sensitive person who does take things personally but it is an asset, not something to be tamed.  It may bring me a lot of pain or worry, but it also brings me a lot of conviction which inevitably makes me a better person. I can understand where people are coming from because I let myself feel the pain they are going through when I hear about their situation. I don’t want to go through my life ‘not taking things personally’ because then it’s like I am numbing myself to the emotions that God gave me. He made me the sensitive person I am today who wants to have relationships that count, wants to change injustices, and who feels moved by a strangers situation. 

Taking things personally is what makes me a good friend and a good family member as I am constantly putting myself in others shoes. “Someone got fired? How would that make me feel? Oh wow, she must be going through such a hard period. Maybe we can help her out.” That is where my mind goes when something happens in a loved ones life, but according to many people around me I should skip the whole ‘how would that make me feel’ as that is taking it too personally. Sure I have cried my eyes out over someone elses problem before, but it makes me human. It shows I have a soul and a heart. Does God call us to forget about what's going on in each others lives and only worry about ourselves? I think not.

There have been a few distinct times in my life where I took things personally. When I was working as a Developmental Therapist four years ago, I met a little girl named Megan who was very sick with Hurlers Syndrome. Her family was from out of state and had no where to stay while their daughter was getting treatment, so they were basically living out of the hospital. For some reason there were no charities coming to their rescue, offering any kind of assistance or resources, and they had to just accept this as their harsh reality. 

It bothered me a lot. “What a sad situation, but its not your problem” everyone said. “Why are you getting so down about this? There’s nothing you can do. It’s not your family, and you can’t help the system has holes in it. Stop taking it so personally,” I was told.

Luckily I didn’t listen to them. I found Megan and her family a place to stay which gave both them and I precious memories with her outside of the hospital before she passed away. Because I took it so personally I didn’t sit back idly and watch them being ignored by society. I took their injustice personally and let that emotion fuel my desire to fight for them. Because of that deeply personal experience I had with them I’m now opening a nonprofit to fill the holes that precious children are falling through. My ‘too personal’ outlook gave me the conviction to fight for them, and courage to try to right a wrong, and I will fight for other families just like them in the future. 

This also applies to the distinct and unsettling fact that children with special needs are not accepted or understood in Korea or many places in Asia. There are no services in place and kids are being called ‘abnormal’ and being placed under a terrible stigma. Well as luck would have it God put two children in my classes over here with pretty clear special needs. Why? I think he put them in my class because he knew I would take their struggles and difficulties personally. I would not be able to shake their situations off or dismiss my desire to try to help them. Because of this character trait, I have sat down in wildly uncomfortable and frustrating meetings with their parents and other staff trying to advocate for their child's needs. Most teachers won’t speak up for the child running up and down the halls flapping his hands, having trouble communicating, and showing severe delays across the board.Why? Not because they don't care or anything like that....but getting involved is a personal choice with personal repercussions. The fact I took their problems personally, and held them on my back as my own, has enabled me to help them as much as this culture will allow. 

Nothing irritates me more than when someone utters these words to me, as it seems that they don’t know how I tick. Am I supposed to walk through life letting nothing get inside and letting everything roll off my shoulders? Turning my back on a situation and saying 'oh well' has its place and time. The fact I do take things personally sometimes is not a trait that I should work on and try to erase from my personality, because it makes me good at my job and a good human being. Acceptance is also in my bag of tricks, but sometimes a little sensitivity about a situation is just what the doctor ordered.

Packing Day

Yesterday was my first day of vacation which I happily decided to do absolutely nothing on. I totally vegged out watching my favorite TV show and eating delicious Korean food. The exhaustion from this past week had caught up to me, and with no pending work days coming up I decided doing nothing was perfectly acceptable. Well today was Sunday, and I decided I needed to do something with my day. It was an awful monsoon day here so leaving the apartment seemed too unpleasant of an activity if I didn't HAVE too leave. So instead I took the day to begin packing up my room for my soon-to-be departure date in 5 weeks.

I did some cleaning and then began going through my things. It's amazing what you can aquire in a year. From extra towels, to nail polish, to cheap subway shirts, there were many to sort through. I began to pack up my winter clothes and anything else I didnt think I would use in the upcoming weeks, and one huge suitcase filled up rather quickly. It's funny to see my pile of throw outs (or pass alongs) and then to look into my suitcase at things I deemed necessary to keep.

I threw away many useless shirts, purses, and nic-nacs that served as decoration around my room. But beautiful hand-drawn cards and pictures from my kids I cannot let go of. Reading the words "I love you Ms.Nikki" on so many different beautiful cards that were given to me on my birthday, teachers day, or even just given to me on a random Wednesday are too precious to throw in the trash. It made me think of how much I will miss hearing little children calling out "Ms.Nikki" for their every want and need to be fulfilled.

I have been so much more than their teacher this year. Half the time I'm "Dr.Nikki" when they need their medicine. "I'm Mommy Nikki" when they are limp in my arms crying their eyes out. I'm "Advocate Nikki" fighting for them in parent teacher conferences to try to ensure their bright futures. Being their teacher which means I am all of these things wrapped up in one has been an amazing position to hold. As much as I am ready to end this chapter and get back to my family, I will dearly miss seeing beautiful Korean children running up to me to give me a hug everyday.

My suitcases are half-way packed, my apartment is beginning to look barren, and my heart is full of every emotion in the book. Packing up my life here is such a bittersweet pastime, but my Sunday was rich with moments of reminiscing and treasuring my keepsakes. To be honest, I could hop on the plane with a purse full of my sentimental things such as cards, jewelry, and pictures and I don't think I would miss anything else. They matter the most, they are the most valuable things I own because of the memories they stir up.

I look around my room at the souvenirs hung up on my walls from all over Asia mixed with things from back home. When I first arrived there was only American memories filling up this room and now there is so much more. It shows how much Asia has captured a piece of my heart, as it is covering my walls, and it comforts me that Korea will always be a part of me from here on out.

American Honey

When I left for Korea I was a little bit of a mess. I was dealing with the death of my grandfather amongst other unsettled grievances and I needed a new start. Living abroad offered the perfect place to start a new chapter, bury my fears and worries, and gain a new appreciation for life. When I arrived here I felt completely in over my head, but I knew that this crazy new life I had signed up for was exactly what I needed.  Don’t ask me how I came to this conclusion, as all I can say is that I received a short line of signs from God that inevitably let to me moving to Seoul. Also the fact He didn’t stop me was my affirmation for the decision I was making to live abroad. This entire year has been an uphill battle but has given me more than I could ever put into words.

As I walked home tonight from a friend’s house I was staring up at the moon thinking about the mindset I was living in a year ago. That place of grief, worry, and sorrow over the storms erupting in my life is no longer present.  Now, I can look up at the moon and smile instead of crying about the people I missed so dearly. I have found peace with the storms that I have endured in my life and have even become grateful for them. I have grown in an indescribable way during this year abroad and it has made me a more well-rounded friend, sibling, daughter, and person. Sometimes you have to take time away from the familiar to realize just how precious that familiarity truly is. I know it was difficult for my parents to let their baby bird fly the coup, especially all the way to Asia, but this time away has healed me and prepared me for the next phase of my life. Some tragedies are too hard to cope with, and time away or a new distraction, can offer just the closure that you need to be able to accept the truth.  

Some things need time to heal, and at my 8 month mark something finally clicked. I felt incredibly hopeful again for the first time in a year and was ready to move on and upward with my life. Since that Sunday full of clarity and validation I have been working on building up my sense of hope and joy to prepare myself for whatever storm comes across my path next. I am ready for an uphill battle and excited to face a new challenge back in the States. 

I got exactly what I needed during this past year and am returning home with so much more than I came with. Personally and professionally I have grown and learned some worthy lessons while working abroad. I am ready now to return home and see the people who were kind enough to let me roam free for a year and supported me through the ups and downs. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me….I couldn’t have done it without you! Here’s to new chapters and getting back to the familiar.   

 There's a wild wild whisper blowing in the wind

Calling out my name like a long lost friend.

I miss those days as the years go by

Oh, nothings sweeter than summertime,

and American Honey.

Get caught in the race of this crazy life.

Trying to be everything, could make you lose your mind.

I just wanna go back in time to American Honey.

Gone for so long now,

I gotta get back to her somehow.

to American honey.

Box it out

One of my favorite exercises of all time is boxing. There is something so powerful about hitting a bag and letting every feeling you have inside of you out on that bag. All of your energy you walked into the gym with becomes transferred to the punching bag. I was never very good at science but I do think I remember the law of energy quite clearly: "Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, just transferred." Well whether it is negative energy inside of me caused by grief and frustration, or positive energy caused by love and happiness I can take it all out on that punching bag. I strap on the gloves and just let it rip.

Running has always been a nice therapy for me and a place for me to think and reflect on life, but boxing does so much more than this for me. It does the impossible; It shuts down my mind completely. I am only focused on punching and kicking that bag, and it's such a hard workout that my mind is not able to wander. The only other time my mind ever shuts down is when I'm sleeping, and even that is debatable if I think back on my dreams recently which centered around real life issues. When I hit that bag its just me and the bag, only I am in the room, and everyone else fades away along with any thoughts I was previously pondering. The best part is that I love it, and it is still a great work out! That's rare to find a workout that you enjoy and desire to do even when your exhausted, but that is what boxing is for me.

I am one of the only people in my gym to use the boxing stuff, men and women included, so when a Korean trainer who is great at boxing saw me hitting the bag he ran over to give me some pointers. It was both funny and confusing to hear his advice in Korean because I had no idea what he was saying, but eventually I got it once he started showing me his skills. I started hitting the bag like a pro, and after I left the gym my body began immediately to feel sore.

Last Monday I was really upset and let it out on the bag. I looked forward to it all day and felt a million times better after a hard 30 minute session. Today I was in a great mood and had the same tough 30 minute session, and felt great afterwards. I was in a totally different mood when I entered the gym these two times but I let out whatever I was feeling on the punching bag. All of my energy went into the bag as it was swinging around after I would hit it. Both times I was dripping with sweat, leaving with my mascara all over my eyes from the sweat pouring down my face, and with my hands shaking. I was even sweating off my sunburn today, as my face began to peel! I looked a total mess but felt amazing.

It's the most fulfilling kind of exhaustion I can think of.

Boryeong Mudfest

I have been to many festivals in Korea this past year, but none have been quite as insane as the Boryeong Mud Festival. This area of Korea is known for its famous healing Boryeong mud which is made into numerous bathroom products such as soap or shampoo. To celebrate their fantastic products and advertise them they created this festival which happens once a year bringing foreigners and Koreans to the area with the hopes of getting dirty! The participants of the festival are completely immersed in mud in the numerous attractions they have at hand for this celebration. Participants can enjoy mud wrestling, mud sliding, a mud prison, and even ‘swimming’ in a huge mud pool. There are attractions for the kids and adults, and as you look around all you can see is a grayish mud covering every inch of peoples bodies. In the evening there is a huge concert which goes on late into the night and fireworks to celebrate this special time of year.

I went with two of my friends feeling a little apprehensive as to what we were going to see. We arrived after a 4 hour bus ride to a city that was packed full of foreigners. It was so weird to walk around and hear people speaking English! It is a totally forgotten concept that I could chime in on a conversation, eavesdrop, or ask the person next to me for help. Once I saw all of the pools of mud and slides all I could think was “Let’s do this.”   

My girlfriends and I headed off to the ‘colored mud’ table where we waited in line for almost an hour to get the best painter available to make our bodies a work of art! When she started to paint my body it was so cold and felt so weird! I kept laughing and trying not to touch it while it was wet! 

I had ‘mud’ written on my arm, a heart on my face, and flowers running down my torso. My friends looked just as awesome, and we walked around being followed by Korean paparazzi.

Literally the photographers were insane and a little excessive! They would put their camera lens only a few inches away from my face and I was supposed to just stand still so they could capture my mud covered face. It was totally bizarre and hysterical to see this paparazzi just running around taking pictures of everyone! If you dared pose for a photo for your OWN camera, you had to be ready to have 5-10 other cameras snap the same shot! It was so awkward and made me realize I could NEVER be famous. I’ve got no patience for that!

Anyway, after we finished getting colored mud painted on us we entered the activity area! The first one we decided to do was some mud wrestling. I became totally covered in the gray mud as my friends threw it on me, splashed me, and pulled me down into a pool of it! I had mud coming out of my eyes for the next 24 hours thanks to this activity, but how many people can say they have mud wrestled? Sure I’m no Summer Rae with my wrestling skills but I sure got down and dirty in that stuff!

While everyone was tossing themselves around in the mud a fantastic air show started with jets speeding across the sky in different shapes and drawing different patterns in the clouds. I have never seen one, so I was totally in awe!

We then went into the mud prison where we stood in between bars and had two Korean men throw buckets of mud onto us. The men must have been loving it as they would throw the mud buckets at us in full force! I had my eyes closed and my ears plugged and all of a sudden I felt a slap of mud on my face, and then body, and then face again! It hit me so hard I almost fell over! A true muddy punishment for being in prison! When it was done I looked at my friend and all we could do was laugh at the intensity of this silly activity both saying ‘oh my gosh!’ They succeeded in not only getting mud all over our bodies, but well into our ears, down our bathing suits, in our mouths, and up our nose. We got a complete and total muddy experience. They weren’t playing around….

There were so many activities but we didn’t have a chance to do them all. The lines were insanely long and after 3 hours of mud-play you kind of just want to get clean. So we walked onto the beach and dove into the sea. The water washed off our colorful and dirty bodies, and we could finally see our skin again! I looked around at the beach and in the ocean and just got this smirk on my face. There were so many foreigners and Koreans going crazy for this mud and living it up at this festival. There was a mixture of English and Korean being spoken, there were people sunbathing and people hiding in tents from the sun, but the common theme was mud-loving smiles across the beach. 

Once we were somewhat clean, thanks to the sea, we headed back to our hotel for a shower.

This festival was such a unique experience that was totally once in a lifetime.  I’m sure I will never be covered in mud again, but I am very OK with that. We got down and dirty, covered in all different colored mud, and had so many laughs. And even got some muddy souvenirs for my family!