Constantly amused....

....by this place, Korea. I love ajuma's, little old ladies in technicolor hiking outfits pushing everyone out of the way, their ubiquitous perms never bouncing when they should. I love the, yeah, the lights green but I'll just wait until it's red and then go, taxi drivers, and their close relative the I really shouldn't pass this person around a blind curve but what the hell I lived through the war so eff it I'm going and damn the torpedoes, old men driving.

I love the food. Sitting on a warm floor, my hips screaming in agony from repeated and sustained attempts at crossing my legs, as pork belly and kimchi sizzle on the grill, a hundred tiny dishes surrounding my huge bottle of beer, unintelligible tongues, soju and smiles enveloping me. I love the wait, you like kimchi and can use chopsticks very well? I think you are half Korean! stares and expressions of my new Korean friends (they're easily impressed). I love that there's no such thing as an empty cup in Korea, and it's bad luck to pour a drink for yourself, someone else has to do it.

I love the women. Beautiful, petite, dashing to and fro, pushing and elbowing me on the subway, wearing high heels everywhere, at work, in the home, shopping, hiking. Yes, high heeled hiking. Giggling easily at my raised eyebrow.

I love peeking over the shoulder of someone on the subway watching TV on their cellphone only to find they're watching 30 Rock or CSI. I love people sleeping on the subway, heads tilted back, peering up their nose, knowing they are going to work for 14 hours that day, then will drink soju till 2 am, then getting up at 6 and doing it all over again. I love old men glaring at me suspiciously, clearing their throat to hawk one only not to, and knowing it's an insult only they won't look me in the eye.

I love jimjilbang, the communal bathhouses. Walking around naked unashamed of the nothingness between their legs, tiny children to old men, rich and poor, all there together, just soaking out the stress of their bow really deep to this person, kind of deep to this person, never to this person unless no one else is watching, and always make the boss look good no matter what, study till 3 am, get up at 6, it's all about what university you attend and who you marry, days. Then we put on matching pajamas and go upstairs to doze off in front of the big screen or in the massaging chair while practicing the Korean art of doing nothing we've refined because if we're not doing nothing we're doing something so in effect by doing nothing we feel we're still accomplishing something.

I love the kids I teach, so out of control and excited, only to fall back into line at the slightest promise of a tiny sticker or candy. Stickers and candy? You've got yourself a friend for life. Or at least until the bell rings. I love teaching 40 kids how to say, where is the bathroom? in 40 minutes when some are fluent in English and are obscenely bored, some can't say hello and are utterly confused, and most just stare at me blankly, not willing to reveal where their skill lies. I love hearing, E.J. teacher! and Hello! while a tiny Korean child barely rising to my legs waves maniacally, a thousand times a day, literally, as I walk through the halls. It's kind of like being a rock star, only it's really not.

I love that, sight unseen, this amazing country paid for me to come here, puts me up in a nice apartment, pays me a reasonable salary of which I'm able to save a large amount, and even gives me health care and tons of time off to explore all parts of Asia, all so I can practice a career that I have zero experience in. God Bless Korea.