Kate's Blog! Woot!

In which the author admits that her heart is two sizes too small...

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 01:21:47 GMT

…And is perfectly OK with it.

Those of you that know me, know that I’m not a fan of Christmas, (or Hallowe’en, or Valentine’s Day. I am a fan of my birthday {not a national holiday YET} and International Talk Like A Pirate Day, and that’s about it). I don’t mind the eating good food and the family, but I hate the shopping, and the parking, and the malls with a fiery passion. Above all, I HATE THE MUSIC. I don’t care who was kissing Santa Claus last night, or got run over by a reindeer. I JUST DON’T. I particularly hate the fact that retailers put out the decorations and start the music the day after Hallowe’en; maybe it encourages other people to enter a shopping frenzy and stimulate the economy, but it just makes me pa rum pum pum pum my way into an awful mood. I also died a little inside when it became clear that EVERYONE has a Christmas album. Is it really necessary to have so many versions of the same song? Between the coke-fiend issue and their Christmas album, I’m a little sad for the Barenaked Ladies.

I feel it’s appropriate here, and I’m comfortable saying it: bah, flipping humbug.

In which the author is worried that someone may have given a mouse a cookie...

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 01:04:00 GMT

So, I know that I haven’t updated recently. When all you write about is minutiae, and the minutiae is no longer foreign and exotic, it’s harder to be inspired to write and post. I’m also working on another writing project, and just generally WORKING too much.

However, I have been asked what I’m doing with my spare time. The answer is not much (and not much in the true not much sense, not the Seinfeld sense). I’ve been dealing a little bit with The Insomnia (yes, deserving of capital letters), which has allowed me to indulge in one of my very secret guilty pleasures; The Shopping Network. I don’t ever buy anything, but I love the ridiculousness (ridiculousity?) of the things that they sell. Crazy ovens that cook an entire turkey in 30 minutes! Blankets with sleeves for people that have problems being attacked by normal sleeveless blankets! These things: http://www.bighappiehair.com/! After 30 or 45 minutes, I drift off to sleep, lulled by the absurdity of the human race.

I also find myself idly shopping, and have developed a Wal-Mart PROBLEM. I know that Wal-Mart is the root of all corporate evil etc, etc, but man, are they effective at marketing to the impulse buyer. I have purchased sparkly mascara (oops), purple toothpaste (oops + yuck), and a product that resulted in me sanding my arms (oops + ouch). I should probably stay away, but when my shopping list includes hangers, orange juice, a calculator and socks, it’s soooo much easier to just make one stop.

As I’ve mentioned before, I enjoy living alone, even if it means being a bit of a hermit, and not having anyone to help when I do stupid stuff. However, this week, there is a new development. There is a MOUSE in my HOUSE. And probably not just one (it doesn’t usually work that way). And my cat is doing absolutely NOTHING about it, other than Staring Intently. I bought some traps, but the pitter patter of tiny, tiny, dirty, mousy feet is keeping me awake (and fuelling my Shopping Network addiction). I generally consider myself One Tough Chick, but I can’t cope with mice. There was an incident when I was younger that involved a mouse running up my arm, jumping off into space and sending me into hysterics in front of the hot farrier. Since then, mouse are not on my list of things I can cope with, so my dad (who loves me) is coming up to visit, and bringing my Bad Cat to come and deal with my mouse issue. I’ll keep you posted, and let you know when it is safe to come and visit ;).

In which the author is an author...again!

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 17:09:07 GMT

And this time Sherry is famous too!

I have a story (with a cover blurb!) in this month's Horse Sport. Check it out! (for the person who has to help Grandma find it--there is a brownish horse on the front, ridden by a lady with a pink shirt and helmet cover).

In which the author thinks she's alone now...the beating of her heart is the only so-ound...

Sun, 24 May 2009 22:21:31 GMT

So, I'm back in Ottawa and ruminating on living by myself. Most of the time, I think it's a good thing because:

1) pants optional is always an acceptable policy.
2) no one looks at you funny when you eat pudding for dinner (at least I assume they wouldn't...).
3) I don't have to share the remote. EVER. And no one can judge what's sitting on my PVR.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe living alone is NOT the best choice, especially when:

1) I have to admit that I'm talking to myself, since the cat is still on vacay.
2) I have to drink alone (**NOTE** this isn't a habitual, problem type thing. It was one lousy day, rescued when a blast from the past showed up, bottle in hand, to drink WITH me and then drag me out of my apartment).
3) I do dumb crap (like paint alone, lock myself out of the house or kill my battery, necessitating a jump) and there is no one to rescue me from my own idiocy.

I've been thinking about this for the last couple of days, because I was wondering if living alone wasn't turning me into a bit of a sociopath (or at least a recluse. I'm not locking people in the basement or mailing anthrax or anything). This weekend was the 'Great Glebe Garage Sale' which meant that my neighbourhood was crawling with people who were dumping all their crap on their lawns for people to rootle through and hopefully buy. I don't like garage sales. I don't like rootling through other people's crap. I don't like bargaining. Being a rolling stone, I don't need any more crap, and I don't even have that much of my own extraneous crap to get rid of.

With all of this in mind, I hid in my apartment watching season 2 of Grey's Anatomy (sidebar--this was when it was awesome, non-creepy, and NOT FULL OF GHOST SEX), and avoiding the teeming mass of humanity outside. What finally drove me from my Fortress of Solitude was the fact that one of the neighbours was playing classical music, one assumes in order to encourage sales of his crap. Now, when I say classical music, I mean alternating the extended versions of Pachelbel's Canon and the Blue Danube Waltz. For. Three. Hours. This finally got me away from my tv, and I headed out to discover that my neighbours were actually selling TRASH (like broken light fixtures and stuff that the landlord had bagged up for the garbage. They cut the bags open and started selling it). At this point, I fled as fast as my car could take me--which was about 10 kph, since all the crap-rootlers were all over the streets.

I spent the afternoon sitting in a corner reading magazines at Chapters, and didn't go home until the crowds were gone.

Not saying I'm the Unabomber or anything, but I sorta see how a cabin in the woods might have its charms...

In which the author ponders the Murtagh List...

Sat, 02 May 2009 19:47:59 GMT

So, a few weeks ago, there was an episode of How I Met Your Mother (sidenote: if you're not watching this show, you should. It's AWESOME.) in which the characters discussed a phenomenon they called the 'Murtagh List'. It was named after the old, wise character played by Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies, who was constantly moaning to Mel Gibson that he was 'too old for this...stuff...'. The main character on the tv show made his own 'Murtagh List' of things he was too old to do, leading one of the other characters to set out to do everything on said list in an attempt to avoid admitting he was getting older.

While I don't agree with everything on the show's Murtagh List (i.e. both 'Going to your parents' house to do laundry' and 'crashing on someone's futon to avoid paying for a hotel' were both on their list. I would change the first one by replacing 'your parents' with 'anyone I know with a working washer/dryer', and see no reason not to sleep on a futon, though I draw the line at leaky air mattresses...), it has got me wondering about a Murtagh List of my own.

Sherry and I have been doing some semi-backpacker travelling here in the UK, and it's got me thinking. I was peer-pressured into leaving my beloved (filthy, beat-up) backpack at home and taking real, grown-up luggage with me (sorry Lauren). We've also been staying at a mixture of hostels and B&Bs, and while staying at our first hostel, I seriously thought that I might be too old for hostels. Between the people wandering in super late (or early, depending on when you got to bed), touching/crinkling/repacking all of their belongings during the wee hours of the morning and making weird noises (even weirder than ME!) while they sleep, I thought that I might be past budget travel, and it kind of freaked me out.

I mean, what would I do when Trish and I, having outlived our spouses and cats, go on our 50th Anniversary of the Trip That Ate the World trip in 2058? Would I have to admit that dragging bags is not, in fact, for suckers? Spend money on accommodations that could be better spent on Fanta, Cadbury chocolate and baklava?

In the end, the crisis was averted when I realized that I am not too old for adventuring. I am however, too old for top bunks.

In which the author reminisces...

Mon, 13 Oct 2008 00:39:31 GMT

So, I was looking at some of my pictures from The Trip That Ate The World, and was reminded that some of the decisions that Trish and I made seemed like a good idea at the time, but probably weren't. Like getting in this cab:

I'm still alive and kicking, so you know it didn't go toooooo badly, but really, hindsight being 20/20 it maybe wasn't a great plan.

In which the author goes for a ride on the wild side...

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 21:50:56 GMT

OK, so the weekend before last I accepted a co-workers invitation to go out and see her horses. She and her boyfriend keep drafts and do combined driving with them; apparently I would be able to “go for a drive”. In my head, my experience looked something like this:

(I would be the one on the left. My co-worker would be the unseen driver).
Worst case scenario, I would be this guy:

(I would be one of the guys at the back. My co-worker would still be the unseen driver).

Obviously, that’s not how things worked out. I mean, I probably should have guessed that things wouldn’t be going according to my fantasy plans when my co-worker asked if I had:
a) a helmet
b) sturdy boots
c) personal liability insurance (!!!).

I DID have all three of those things, and I did go anyway. And, I ended up being neither of the people featured above. Instead I was this guy:

The one hanging off the back of the cart. The one hanging off the back of the cart wearing all the protective equipment. The ballast hanging off the back of the cart wearing all the protective equipment.

I spent 3.5 hours hanging off the back of a cart whilst galloping through wooded trails while my co-worker laughed uproariously. The only thing that inspired me to maintain my death grip on the back of that cart was the fact that her boyfriend with his enormous draft mare was galloping BEHIND us.

When we finished, I had bruises everywhere (thank GOD for the suspension on the cart or I probably would have shaken all my teeth out)—apparently my form whilst clinging on by my fingertips was poor. I also have a renewed respect for how crazy horse people are.

In which the author decides NOT to party like it's 1999...

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 21:35:49 GMT

So, I had thought that my neighborhood was full of yuppies. Turns out that YES, there are yuppies (and they are the only ones who can afford to BUY an ENTIRE house in this area), but there are also tons of students. A number of the houses in the Glebe have been converted into three or four apartments, which are quite reasonably priced (which is why I'm living there. Duh.). Many of these reasonably-priced apartments are inhabited by students (as opposed to being inhabited by dreamy late-20-somethings who are motivated, career-oriented and single. Sorry. Sidetracked.), as I found out last week when the neighborhood was filled with u-Hauls.

The students have been partying like crazy for the last week or so, and I had seriously considered buying some beer and crashing some parties--I figured the "don't we have Psych together? No? Here, have a beer" line would probably work and I might meet some people. However, something happened at the grocery store on Saturday that made me think this might not be the best plan.

I was in line ahead of a group of guys who were describing the WICKED party they were having that night, and discussing the supplies they needed. I very subtly snuck a peek at the guys and their party swag and discovered two things:

1) they were about 19
2) their "party supplies" consisted of 5 packages of hot dogs and a can of air freshener.

Party ON.

(no, I totally didn't go. I watched Season One of Gossip Girl and ate cookies instead)

In which the author starts to enjoy her new apartment...

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 17:03:57 GMT

So most of you know that I've moved up to Ottawa and into my own apartment. I was worried that I would be scared or lonely living alone, but it pretty much rocks. Once I install blinds in my living room and can return to a pants optional policy, it'll be pretty close to perfect.

I did have a momentary scare though, shortly after moving in. I had purchased this crazy piece of Ikea furniture that is a chair by day, a spare bed by night and required assembly. It had many pieces, and the Ikea pictograms that served as directions (sidebar--swear to GOD, these things are nuts. They have no words so that they don't have to translate them for different markets, but they look like some sort of crazy cave drawings or those Dick and Jane books. See Man. See Hammer. See Man use Hammer. Man needs help; see Other Man. Neither Man can build furniture; call Magic Phone That Connects Directly to Ikea.). I had the stupid thing nearly put together when it accordioned from bed to chair WITH ME INSIDE IT! As I was trying to extract myself, I had a momentary vision of a newspaper heading reading something like "Brilliant Singleton Crushed by Crazy Furniture and Eaten by Alsatians".

I quickly realized this wouldn't happen because
a) I am not, in fact, Bridget Jones and
b) I have a cat, not an Alsatian.

But it was a scary couple of minutes.

The previous tenant left some weird stuff in the apartment that I've been working to get rid of. She had quite the collection of sports bottles, a crazy huge picture of herself (that was seemingly stuck to the wall using MAGIC a la Harry Potter) and a huge, heavy, broken German washing machine from the '70s. The picture was ripped from the wall and thrown away, the landlord removed the ancient washing machine (allowing me to move MY washing machine, which had been sitting in my living room like some sort of weird art installation, into the bathroom where it now sits), and changed the plug back to a standard North American 120V plug, BECAUSE THE PREVIOUS TENANT HAD CHANGED IT TO THE SHAPE AND VOLTAGE FOR THIS ANCIENT MACHINE. Who does that? Who does that, and doesn't fix it when they move out? Seriously. I'm also going to repaint the hallway and bathroom as pumpkin orange isn't really my thang.

It's all worked out though, and once I finish unpacking, it'll be a pretty cool place. So, come and visit y'all!

In which the author becomes, well, AN AUTHOR!

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 20:54:48 GMT

So I totally forgot to post about this. But, an article I wrote called "What Not to Do at Your First Event" was published! It was in the July issue of Horse Sport magazine (available at fine bookshops everywhere ;) ); it's called the "Eventing" issue.

Read it!

In which the author is late for work because of Santa Claus, and realizes that she needs a hobby...

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 20:52:57 GMT

So, I’ve been working at my Real Grown-up Job, and will soon move into my Real Grown-up Apartment. Things are going pretty well, but it’s becoming clear that being a Real Grown-up is kinda hard.

I’ve been slightly sick for awhile now; not SICK sick, just the kind of sick that makes you grumpy. I was walking to the bus stop the other day, experiencing that phase of a nasty cold that makes you feel crappy enough that all you can focus on is your own personal misery. I arrived at the bus stop and was sniffling in a self-pitying way, waiting for the bus to arrive when I heard:

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

What. The. Hell.

Santa was standing nearby in his full regalia celebrating Christmas in July. Apparently this is a “thing” here, and the festivities included the mayor (with a paper nametag—the kind you print yourself and then stuff in the folding plastic holder. Snork!) climbing on our bus with news crew in tow to offer us all some sort of pig parts on a bun.

I don’t know what pig parts on a bun (or the mayor) have to do with Christmas in July, nor do I have any clear idea why Ottawa was celebrating this holiday. I DO know that because of Santa/the mayor/the news crew I missed by bus connection and had to explain to my co-workers why I was late. I’m not sure they believed me.

On to why I need a new hobby…

I’ve been spending most of my time working and looking at sad apartments. Looking at sad apartments is done (though I am supposed to be going to look at a used washing machine tomorrow. I know how to party…), and it’s become clear that I need to find myself something to do. The final indicator that I am wasting my free time came when I found myself watching a movie the other night from the oeuvre of Kirsten Dunst. During the course of the movie, one of the actors sang a faux boy band song called “Love Scud”. Oh, and it co-starred Sisqo. Yeah, the guy from the Thong Song. During the credits, he (inexplicably) started singing an Earth Wind and Fire song with Vitamin C. Yeah, the orange-haired girl from the Graduation Song. I think watching it might have made me stupider.

So, once I’ve moved in, COME AND VISIT PEOPLE! I bought a piece of complicated furniture that Ikea says will fold out into a bed, so I’m happy to put visitors up. If you can’t visit, at least suggest possible new (and cheap!) hobbies for me!

In which the author updates her loyal readers...

Thu, 22 May 2008 03:42:34 GMT

So I've been home in Canuckistan for about a month, and haven't posted anything. Not that nothing's happened (I've met my niece Abigail, and Adrienne's daughter Madeline. I've SAT ON A HORSE!!!, and...maybe that's it. Except buying socks. But the world at large probably isn't terribly interested in that), but nothing terribly blog-worthy has happened.

I've been looking for a job--maybe a Real Grown-Up Job, or maybe another Peter Pan affair that will take me to the other side of the planet--I dunno. And today, I had the weirdest interview I've ever had.

To preface this, I'll explain the previous Weirdest Interview. You should probably know from the outset that I DID take the job. So, I was phoned by a guy from Korea (my recruiter kept referring to him as "Mr Kerry". I was to learn that his FIRST name was Kerry, and that he wasn't, in fact, as strange as he initially appeared), and during the course of the interview, he admitted that
a) he was hungover (my interview was on a Wednesday) and
b) some of the questions were just on the list to "screen out guys who just wanna sleep with Asian chicks".

Awesome.

So, today's interview beat it. I had sent my resume to this school and completed a supplementary application, but had not yet spoken to anyone, or gotten any firm details on the job. I get a phone call today and "Roberto" from XYZ English Academy (names changed to protect the innocent--unless I DO take the job). It went something like this:
"Hello, Kate? We have read your resume, and we're prepared to offer you the job. Do you have any questions?"
DID I HAVE ANY QUESTIONS? SURE DID.
Like
1) what does the job entail?
2) what does the job pay?
3) WHEN do you want me there?

Seriously, do interviews ever actually GO like that? And it was the second job I'd been offered in less than 24 hours. And I still have at least 3 more interviews over the next week. And then I will have to make a decision, factoring in what, where, how much $$ and whether or not it would be a nice place for Jenn to come visit for Christmas.

In which the author reports on Nazi activity and explains why she hates Pisa.

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 12:50:14 GMT

So, Trish and I are wandering rather aimlessly around Europe and having a great time. Oh, and before I forget; apparently it was unclear from my last post that my youngest brother was also in Egypt with us. So....there it is. James also went to Egypt.

Back to the Nazis.

Since this is not my first visit to Europe, I have planned a bunch of extra destinations, to places that I have never seen before. One of those destinations was Mycenae in Greece (if you want to learn about Mycenae, Wikipedia it. This isn't that kind of blog). I will skip over the crazy inconvenient travel arrangements we had to make (only making a brief aside; Greek Rail and Bus needs to figure out how to put schedules online or something. Basically, you have to go directly to the train station or the particular bus station to find schedules. NOT CONVENIENT.). Anyway, we made our way to the tiny village that serves as bus terminal for Mycenae. We tumbled out, and found ourselves at a tiny coffee shop with a bunch of old dudes sitting around smoking and drinking. We asked where the bus terminal was (so that we could buy our outbound tickets) and were told that this WAS the bus terminal.

Then a tumbleweed blew by.

We got into a cab, and were taken to a hotel by a Greek gentleman who didn't think we were suitably impressed with the fact that he lived in Canada for years, and was in fact drawing a Canada pension (he showed us his most recent stub in case we were still doubting him). We ended up at the Schliemann House hotel; the house that Schliemann lived in while excavating at Mycenae (if you don't know who Schliemann is, look it up while you're Wikipediaing Mycenae). Tons of famous people have stayed there, like Agatha Christie, JK Rowling, Jean-Paul Sartre and GOERING. And Goebbels, Himmler, and Speer. Our Greek hosts reassured us that they stayed there in 1936, so it was BEFORE THEY WERE EVIL. Seriously.

Despite all the fodder for possible nightmares, we did get a decent night's sleep, and enjoyed Mycenae a lot. The site is amazing, and we got up early enough that we were the first ones there--it is a really awesome place when it's empty.

On to why I hate Pisa. You have to understand that there is not much to see in Pisa beyond the Tower, and all of the related merchandise. The first time I was there 9 years ago, one of the cars we were travelling in was broken into, and we had to sit on the steps of the church for HOURS waiting for our teachers to return from the police station. Staring at that stupid crooked tower all afternoon made me a hater. Fast forward to 2008, and my hatred was renewed.

We rented a car and we were driving around Tuscany yesterday when we were seized by the desire to go and see the famous tower. We managed to get into Pisa fine, but there were no street signs, and no signs saying "tourists! Come this way to see the tower!". Now, I suppose I should clarify; in Italy, there are SOME street signs. They are small, and generally the same colour as the building they are affixed to. They are generally about 10 feet off the ground, and a foot in from the corner of the building. Of course, if there is something else located in that spot, like a balcony or a window, they are entirely absent. Piazzas, of which there are many, are often labelled at every corner as "Piazza ....", and not by the street name. Combine all of these factors with the fact that Italy is also hugely popualted with traffic circles, you have two Canadian tourists who haven't driven in a year going 18 kinds of crazy.

So, we drove around for 40 minutes before we asked for directions, at which point we were told that we WEREN'T EVEN IN PISA ANY MORE.

We eventually did find the tower and take the obligatory holding-up-the-tower pictures before hightailing the heck out of there. Bah.

In which the author finally gets the link to pics...

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 11:55:31 GMT

...and here it is: http://picasaweb.google.com/trish.johnson.photos

In which the author finally updates...

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 12:35:59 GMT

So, I'm posting this from the Greek equivalent of a PC Bang. The room is filled with young boys busily blowing each other up online to the accompaniment of Greek pop and some remarkably Anglo-Saxon profanity.

I guess that's a roundabout way of saying that now, I'm in Greece. Trish and I managed to get out of Korea without causing an international incident, and made our way to Egypt. Egypt is a wild and crazy place that Korea only partially prepared me for. We climbed inside the pyramids, spelunked into tombs, took secret pictures (shhhhh!) thanks to a careful application of baksheesh, and heard "Canada? Canada Dry, never die!" about a thousand times after replying to the ubiquitous "where are you from?" question.

Trish and I made our way north across the Med to Athens, and then immediately headed for the islands. Now, by immediately, I mean we arrived in Santorini 24 hours after landing in Athens. Woot. For whatever reason, the travel gods have been thwarting us HARD CORE, beginning with our flight out of Korea and continuing to the present. We're seriously considering sacrificing a goat to Poseidon or Apollo to ensure clear sailing from here on out.

I'll post in greater detail about the stuff we've seen, and will include a link to pics when I discover it (Trish is the keeper of the photos). What I do feel obliged to comment on is the nature of this trip. It's different from other trips I've taken before. We will definitely be doing some traditional touristy stuff as we go on, but some of the coolest stuff we've done so far is further off the beaten path. We spent 4 days in the Western Desert in Egypt, and it was the best part of our trip.

It was just us, our guides and our camels (yup, we rode camels in the desert!). We saw some wildly beautiful land, and learned that all desert is not created equal; the landscape changed dramatically the further we trekked in. At night, we set up a windbreak and slept on the sand under the clearest sky, filled with the brightest stars I've ever seen. It's one of the coolest things I think I've ever done. On our last night, we met up with another group, and sat under the stars eating dinner and playing cards with our Bedouin guides. Truly, truly awesome.

Now that we're here in Greece, we're in hard-core relax mode. Our entire day yesterday was scheduled around what we wanted to eat (baklava? Check. Gyros? Check. Fanta? Double check), and catching the sunset from a particularly beautiful part of the island.

Life is good. I'm thrilled to be doing what I'm doing, while still (mostly) looking forward to being home. I highly recommend the life of an unemployed beach bum--everybody should try it, at least for a little while.

In which the author moves her body...

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 13:57:03 GMT

...and all her earthly possessions. For what I have been ASSURED is the last time.

On Saturday, Trish and I moved all of our possessions from Sinmyung Skyview building #1807 to Sinmyung Skyview building #1803. As to WHY we moved? Well, our boss doesn't own the weygook apartments (he just leases them), so when the person who owned ours decided to sell it, we had to move again despite the fact that we now have less than 2 weeks left in Korea.

So the 16th was chosen as moving day. For me, our current apartment is the 5th one I've lived in in the past 13 months, so to say that I wasn't thrilled to be moving again would be a huge understatement. But all the crap was duly packed up, and we were ready to go. If you ever wondered what a year in Korea LOOKS like, this is it:

Before anyone asks, NO we're NOT planning to take anywhere NEAR all of that crap home with us. A lot of it will be given to friends, thrown out or left in the apartment. We didn't throw everything out now because we have to live here for the next couple weeks.

Anyway, the best part of the whole thing was the help we got. Two of our Canadian co-workers, one of our Korean co-workers, our boss and his friend all came to help us move. The friend had a truck which made things a whole lot easier (the two buildings are in the same complex, but are just far enough apart that it would have been miserable to have carry it between them). Anyway, I was sitting with the pile of stuff with at the old place while the others were at the new place. This meant that I got to help the Korean-speaking friend load everything into the truck.

Have you ever moved (heavy, cumbersome) furniture with someone who doesn't speak the same language? If you haven't, it's a major life experience to look forward to.

The KSF (Korean-speaking friend. Sadly, I never learned his name) would wave indicating that I should pick up one side of a fill-in-the-blank (fridge, couch, washer etc). He would then shout incomprehensibly in Korean, sounding vaguely like this "hubbadahubbadahubbayo" (yo being polite). Of course I had nooooo idea what he meant, so I'd lift the heavy fill-in-the-blank up, which would cause the KSF to shout "noooooooo", followed by "hubbadahubbadahubbadayo" again. So, I'd shift it down. Same reaction. Forward. Ditto. This went on for about five minutes, with the heavy fill-in-the-blank getting heavier.

Eventually our differences were resolved, but gaaaaah. Tons of fun.

So we're safely ensconced in our final Korean resting place. It's pretty identical to the last one, with the advantage of being closer to the garbage party (which was great, since the last inhabitants left a whole pile of really random stuff to be disposed of). Lessons learned: moving sucks. And it's a good thing to have a friend with a truck.

In which the author muses about 525,600 minUTES...

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 03:06:31 GMT

So today is the one year anniversary of my arrival in Korea, and it's causing some introspection (doesn't that sound classier than navel-gazing? But really, same-same...). As my "trip that ate all other trips" approaches far too slowly, and winding up back in Canada for the summer approaches far too quickly, it has made me look a little more critically at my year here. So in the fashion of those Year-End Reviews that everyone loves here goes...

Things I Will Miss About Korea
1) Having dinner for $6.
b) being able to get quite nicely in the bag for $1.50
2) Having someone else pay my rent, providing me with my very own (well, mine and Trish's!), fabulous apartment.
b) in-floor heating and an auto-light just inside the door. Brilliant!
3) Exploring in Seoul. I don't love the fact that I have to take the bus to get to the subway, but Seoul is a really cool city and the transit is really easy to use.
4) Getting paid pretty good $$ for a job that is not in fact, terribly difficult.
5) Penis Park. Kidding, kidding.
6) A group of friends (and friends-of-friends) who seem to be perpetually up for anything. A drink, a trip to a museum, an adventure. Definitely something I hope to keep up when I get home.
7) Street shopping. From $3 DVDs to clothes, housewares and vegetables, there's pretty much nothing you can't buy in the subway station or on the side of the street. Korea is NOT a land of shopping malls, which is pretty great.
8) Kalbi. Well, when it comes to this one, I'm not sure which list it should be on. I LIKE Kalbi, and I really like the communal atmosphere of sitting down to eat barbecue with your friends. However, I think I will like kalbi a whole bunch more once I haven't eaten it for about six months. Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that.
9) Having no real responsibilities. I mean, I have to go to work and do my job, but that's about it. I don't have to pay any bills. I don't have any family commitments, and the social scene here is fluid and crazy enough that there are no real expectations there either (except for going away parties. You MUST go to those!). Korea's been sort of a strange Neverland in this respect. Haven't definitely decided how I feel about it.
10) The excitement and randomness of my life here. Where else will I have Garbage Parties, or Dr. Fish experiences? Or roommates predicting the invasion of North Koreans? 12 lb bags of Baking Soda or Costco husbands? While it's not perfect, life in Korea is rarely boring, and has made me realize that I CAN pack up to a new country and make a life there.

Things I Absolutely WILL NOT Miss About Korea
1) Paying $50 for a turkey, or any other Western type of food.
b) having to go to the ends of the earth to find this stuff. When I want French Onion dip and Ruffles (or real KD) I have to travel several hours round trip and pay $$. And I would sell my left arm for a Tim Horton's veggie sandwich and a Boston Cream right about now.
2) Working until 8:30 at night. After I've gone to the gym and eaten dinner, I'm up until all hours. Being a creature of the night is strange.
3) The NOISE. Korea is NEVER quiet. If our Big Brother speaker box isn't shrieking something incomprehensible at us, the neighbours are drilling, or there's a truck with a loudspeaker begging us to buy their apples far too early in the morning. There was a kid in our apartment complex playing a RECORDER at 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Seriously.
4) Being totally unable to buy clothes in Korea. Korean women are tall and skinny, which makes things tough. With a month left, it seems that I may have found a place with stuff my size--which I'm fairly sure has "fallen off the back of a truck". Sigh. The corollary to this is being told constantly that I'm fat and could be really pretty if I just lost a pile of weight. Seriously. Korea is very much about image, and this is something I've found pretty hard to deal with--I think I've got enough of my own issues without having social/cultural mores imposed on top of them.
5) The lack of horses/animals. We have our crazy Wembley cat (who will become a Canadian citizen shortly!), but animals really aren't a big thing here. I've seen a total of three horses (one tied up in the back of a pick-up truck, and two ponies pulling carts in a parade), virtually no other cats and a bunch of purse-sized dogs. I'm not sure I've missed RIDING, but I've definitely missed being around animals.
6) Being away from the friends/family. This is kind of a weird one. Sometimes it's easier to just not think about the fact that I'm missing weddings, babies, milestones while I'm here. And while I know deep down that relationships with my peeps will just be DIFFERENT when I get home (I'm hoping not better or worse, just different) it's kind of strange to wonder about how I'll fit back into what used to be my life when I get home--another weird feeling that I'm choosing to ignore until I get back on Canadian soil.
7) Being functionally illiterate in the society in which I'm living. I never learned to read in Korean (I'm actually a little embarrassed to admit that!), and my speaking skills are pretty limited. I can ask where the bathroom is, how much something costs, and direct a cab. I can also talk about food, and I know quite a few dirty words. I get by, but I never really put in the necessary effort to become even functional in Korean. I definitely planned to at the beginning, but I didn't start right away and later, it didn't seem worth the effort when I only had a short time left. And there's a tiny part of me that recognizes that Korean isn't really spoken outside of Korea, which makes me even less motivated to learn.
8) Teaching kindergarten. I was told when I was hired that I would teach one or two Kindy classes per week. Now I have 7 (going up to 8 in March), plus extra activities which seem to require wearing costumes far too often. I'm not a kindergarten teacher. Period. I don't want to deal with nose-picking, vomit and grunge. I just don't.
9) Working at a hagwon. Basically, there are too many of them and the market is saturated, so the mothers ask the moon and the stars of the administration of their chosen school. It's crazy and leads to a fair amount of chaos. The kids also attend so many different hagwons that they're pretty stressed out and disinterested when they get to our school. It's pretty hard to motivate them--both because they are so busy and because we're not a "real" school, so the grades don't count. SOOOOO done with it. I really want my next job to be at a public school.
10) Being a weygook. Basically, in Korea you are Korean or you're not. There's nothing else, and everyone non-Korean is lumped into the same category--"foreign". Doesn't matter if you're other-Asian (Chinese, Japanese etc), black, white, or green with blue spots--we're all just "foreign". The population here is extremely homogeneous, so anyone different really stands out, and is apparently fair game for critique. I'm tired of being stared at, poked, stroked (seriously). I actually SCARED KIDS ON THE STREET on purpose the other day. They were pointing, whispering and getting ready to poke, so I whirled around and said "BOO!" in a fairly loud voice. I didn't even feel too bad when they went running off.

So...I guess that's it. A year in the life. Measurement of my year. I'm looking forward to being traveling, to being home (I think) and to jetting off in September to teach somewhere else. Trish and I are hoping to work together again, teaching English in another country--maybe Turkey (warmer AND a slightly more diverse population). I feel like I'm ready to be done with Korea, but that I can be a good teacher in a different country. I know that I'm tough enough to make a life away from my family and friends. I know that Trish and I can make a pretty good Team, even if we want to kill each other every now and then. I know that I definitely don't want to come home and go back to school, or get a "real", permanent job. And I know that I loooove Robin's quote and have come to understand that "not all who wander are lost".

So, how 'bout you loyal readers? What have your last 525,600 minutes contained?

In which the author finally reports on Penis Park...

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 15:17:31 GMT

OK, since I'm sure all four of my devoted readers are wondering, I figured I would finally post about the adventure to Penis Park.

Now, to those of you who somehow thought this was going to be an interactive experience (or God forbid, a RIDE), get your minds out of the gutter. Penis Park is actually a spiritual place. Seriously.

It seems important to point out at this juncture that I found Penis Park in the Lonely Planet Korea book, and have been wanting to go for ages. The same 12-year-old Penises-are-funny part of me that made us get off the highway in the States when I saw a sign that read "Big Bone Lick 1 mile" felt that Penis Park might be the best girlie road trip ever. And it WAS.

The legend behind the park says that a young girl was rowed out to an island by her fiance to gather seaweed. A storm picked up and he couldn't get back out to the island to get her and she drowned (there's now a statue on "the" island, and a diorama in the museum that has the poor girl popping in and out of the water). Now, the brochure we picked up made only the most tenuous of links between this story and the plethora of penii. Maybe it's because she died before marriage? Or maybe her fiance was....ummm...lacking? We're not sure, but we're glad they put up such exciting statuary.

But to the point. Seriously. I have never seen so many penii (penises?) in one place. Happy penii. Sad penii. Angry penii. Comedy and Tragedy penii. MOTORIZED, metal penii. A bench for women to sit on and experience what it might be like to have an improbably long, wooden penis. Penis-shaped roundels on top of fence posts. Penis-shaped benches. SO MANY PLACES to pose for inappropriate pictures...and did we ever. Korea is missing out on a serious marketing opportunity; it would be the BEST. PLACE. EVER. to hold a bachelorette party.

The only downside to the adventure (well, one of the two downsides; it took 6 hours to get home on the bus) was the lack of souvenirs. There was one shelf of tatty crap in a convenience store that wanted me to pay $40 for a penis-shaped salt shaker. I was not THAT interested.

To compensate (tee hee) for Kate and Trish's Phallic Adventure, we are going next week to Gyeonggju area, which is suitably historical and cultural. The plethora of temples, shrines and tombs is described as the "Museum Without Walls" in fact. I've taken pride in the fact that I like pseudo intellectual/cultural stuff, so I'm hoping this trip might compensate (tee hee again) for the Penis Park trip. But what if it can't measure up?

PS Yes, there are pictures. They're on Facebook, where hopefully our Grandmother will never find them.

In which the author gets an AWESOME Christmas surprise...

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 15:02:03 GMT

So, I'm sure this won't be big news for most of you, since apparently EVERY BUT ME KNEW ABOUT IT, but last Monday, I got an absolutely fantastic Christmas surprise.

I was at my friends house watching a movie when her doorbell rang and she asked me to answer it. Guess who was standing there? JENN!!!!!!!!

Jenn had worked with my friends here and at home to make sure it was a surprise, and man was it ever! So Jenn got here on Monday, and stayed until Sunday. She had to change planes twice to get here and endure a ten hour layover on the way home. Now THAT'S dedication!

So, we showed Jenn life in Korea. She rode the sketchy buses, participated in the garbage party, shopped in Insadong and behaved badly in Itaewon. We didn't manage to get her into a noraebang, but still declared that she was an honorary Korean after having tried kimchi and kalbi, hopped a turnstile and visited North Korea (we went to the Panmunjeom, where you can stand on either side of the North/South dividing line). With all the insouciance of a jet-setter, Jenn's decided that I need to choose some place warmer for my next contract so that she can visit a beach next Christmas.

So, that's the excitement from this side of the world! I'll post later about the craziness that was our New Year's Eve!

In which the author reports: it's a CONSPIRACY!

Thu, 06 Dec 2007 07:21:46 GMT

So, Korea has been conspiring to make me crazy.

Last week, we ordered lunch, and attached to the packages were coupons. The coupons seemed to be advertising some sort of spa, but there was a picture of a person’s feet sitting in a pool surrounded by fish. We asked our Korean friends what this one, and the response was AWESOME. They’re called “Doctor Fish”, and when you put your feet in the pool, they eat the dead skin off your feet. Since I have scary Hobbit-feet, and the Doctor Fish experience seemed to be pretty cheap, we (well, I—Trish only agreed when I said I’d pay) decided we had to try it.

We got to the spa, and paid our entrance fee. When we got to the locker area, our self-appointed guide indicated that we had to take off our clothes. ALL of our clothes. Now, at this point, Trish and I were sort of questioning how putting your feet in a pool of piranhas might be improved by nudity. Eventually, the guide gave up and got us a set of spa clothes to wear. Suitably attired, we went in search of the fish. The first room we went into was full of pools of water of various temperature, and a veritable plethora of nude, Korean women. Of course, we were the only ones a) not Korean and b) not naked, so we stood out like sore thumbs. We peered into the various pools (trying very hard not to overtly peer at anything else), but no fish. Lots of women washing each other (as an aside, isn’t this the WEIRDEST leisure activity you’ve ever heard of? Korean women are generally quite modest, but not while at the sauna. I can’t imagine calling a bunch of friends and inviting them to go get naked and wash each other), but no Doctor Fish. Eventually we found the right pool, and there were NO naked people. Now the actual Doctor Fish experience was pretty crazy. It’s like having a bunch of tiny suction cups grabbing your feet; it’s almost electric. We took pics and video that Trish will have up on her blog soon. It’s pretty funny, especially since Trish freaked out ;)

After the Doctor Fish experience, I had a massage at a new shop that opened near our school. I was pretty excited about it, but the results were, in a word, weird. The massage people ALSO thought I should be naked (or close enough). After politely declining to completely disrobe, the massage started. They used an electric roller that is supposed to be “good for health”. After that, they used their hands, followed by this strange suction cupping. They started with teeny suction cups, which they dragged down the length of my body and arms, before pulling them off with a pop. Afterwards, they used great big suction cups, which left some large, oddly shaped marks ALL OVER MY BODY. It’s pretty hot.

The final Korea-is-out-to-get-us experience was our latest shopping trip at E-Mart yesterday. The condensed version is that I have decided that is should NOT be so freaking difficult to buy unscented toilet paper. Period.

In which the author issues ANOTHER PSA: remember, remember the 11th of November...

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 08:16:23 GMT

...because it's PEPERO DAY!

Everyone at work was getting all excited about November 11th. I thought it was kinda strange because I didn't think Korea would celebrate Remembrance Day, but even history majors get confused and I was willing to let it go. And then I found out that the reason they are excited about November 11th has NOTHING to do with Remembrance Day.

Instead, today is Pepero Day in Korea. What is Pepero Day, you ask? Well, it might be the most commercial holiday EVER. Pepero are a type of snack in Korea; sort of biscuit sticks dipped in chocolate. Lotte, the company that makes Pepero (and is also a global conglomerate that owns 75% of Korea) decided to create this holiday to sell lots and lots of Pepero sticks. Why November 11th? Well, the date looks like the snack. 11/11 looks like 5 sticks of Pepero. Get it?

Anyway, even Wikipedia is more up on Pepero Day than I am, so if you're interested, you can check it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pepero_Day .

In which the author reports on some late-breaking news.

Thu, 01 Nov 2007 13:55:24 GMT

This just in:
Yesterday, at the Hallowe'en party, one of the kids came dressed as Poop. Yup, poop. It was the second-best costume in her group.

In which the author gets further language instruction...

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 14:45:01 GMT

In order to understand today's post, you have to know that Trish and I have a system of points here in Korea, by which we live our lives.

The first set of points are Good Roommate Points. You can get positive or negative Roommate points. You might get positive good roommate points by doing something like taking out the garbage (not me). You might get bad roommate points for something like leaving the freezer open and melting all the meat (that one WAS me).

The other set of points are called "I ROCK Korea points" and are somewhat more ephemeral, and awarded on an astonishingly random basis. Good Roommate points have a fairly substantive value (i.e. I had to deal with Catshit Mountain TWICE IN ONE WEEK shortly following the freezer incident), while I ROCK Korea points are really only about bragging rights.

Well, this week I both earned some SERIOUS I ROCK Korea points, as well as taking further steps towards becoming a functioning member of Korean society.

So far, Trish and I have pretty much avoided ordering anything over telephone. If you are trying to buy something in person, you can play charades with the other person, making bridging the language gap at least a little bit easier. Well, I was determined to spend all of Saturday lounging in my pajamas while Trish was out for the day, and I wanted to have pizza delivered to my door. My boss Jessie made a script for me, listing all of the relevant things I might have to say to the order-taker, and for three days leading up to the event, I had to keep practicing. I now have the Korean expression written down for "I want to order a pizza", "I don't have a point card" and "for the LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, NO I DON'T WANT CORN ON MY PIZZA!" (I'm actually kidding about that last one). I also have the obligatory "I don't speak Korean", which is actually one of my favourite phrases.

As an aside, I love being able to say "I don't speak Korean" in Korean, but it seems like it backfires all the time. Now, I don't know about you, but if someone obviously foreign said "I don't speak English" to me in a halting, labored, badly-accented fashion, I'd be tempted to take them at their word. No so in Korea. It seems that every person I say this to assumes that if I have mastered this simple and highly necessary phrase, I must be a master of the entire language. Even if they had been inclined to speak slowly, using their 10 English words before, now they take a sigh of relief and immediately start racing along full-speed in Korean. I'm not quite sure what to do about this (well, learning more Korean might be the obvious solution, but come on. Seriously now folks.), and it's causing me a fair bit of stress.

In any case, I called Domino's on Saturday evening. I said (in Korean) "I want to order a pizza. I don't speak Korean" and to my absolute amazement, the voice on the other end of the phone said "Oh, OK. What is your address?". IN ENGLISH!!!!!!! While it was pretty thrilling, and I did in fact get a corn-free pizza delivered, I was almost disappointed that I didn't get to follow my script. To make up for my disappointment, I did explain my address in Korean.

So, while I didn't get quite the 1,000,000 I ROCK Korea points that I had been hoping for, I did OK for myself. AND, my pizza showed up at my door. Wembley and I sat on the couch eating pizza and watching the OnStyle channel (another aside--it's my new guilty pleasure. I've now caught up on EVERY episode of America's Next Top Model--except those from the current season). What was on OnStyle, you ask? Well, my cat and I ate pizza while watching a show called Manhunt: The Search for America's Studliest Male Model (I'm paraphrasing, but I hope you get the idea). Yup, it's true. We sat on our asses watching buff guys parachute out of airplanes wearing nothing but man panties and combat boots, to the tune of "It's Raining Men". Life is good.

I also feel obliged to share my new words/expressions for the week. I have a couple for each week (usually helpful ones like "I want to go home", or "what do you want to eat?"), but this week's were particularly enjoyable. This week I learned how to say the following in Korean:

1) who
2) shit
3) crazy poop dog

Wanna guess which one I learned from the kindergarten students?

In which the author reaches a conclusion.

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 02:22:44 GMT

Turkeys are DISGUSTING. Seriously.

So, plans have been underfoot for a month or more to have a Thanksgiving dinner here in Korea for the weygooks. Nice idea, eh? Well, as it turns out, planning a Thanksgiving dinner in Korea is perhaps not as easy as it sounds.

My long-suffering mother sent a big box of presents which arrived a couple of weeks ago. Basically, the box contained Instant Thanksgiving--just add turkey and vegetables. We had stove top stuffing, gravy mix, two different turkey timers, a weird screw thing that was to sew up the turkey's private bits, as well as a pile of chocolate chips. All that seemed left was to find a turkey and the necessary produce.

Well, here's the thing. Koreans don't eat turkey. AT ALL. Sometimes, they eat chicken which has been imported from Australia, but NEVER, NEVER turkey. So, we had heard about this mythical grocery store (SOMEWHERE) that sells Western foods--apparently, possibly even including turkey. However, like all good myths, its origins were shrouded and nobody actually KNEW where said grocery store was. We ended up finding directions on some random person's blog and determined that it was about 1.5 hours away from where we live. We duly troddled off and ordered a turkey two weeks ago--an event in and of itself. We found an 18 lb turkey (from Australia!) that was
a) $75 and
b) too big for my Easy Bake oven.
I eventually ordered a $50 12 lb turkey and was only slightly worried when the guy wrote down Kate, hole turky. We went back on Saturday and were in fact able to pick up our hole turky.

Now, as a side note. I KNOW that Thanksgiving was last weekend in Canada. I have also been inundated with requests for a November Thanksgiving by our Yank coworkers. Because of the dual nationality thing, as well as a festival we wanted to go to last weekend, we decided to create our very own non-denominational, second weekend in October Thanksgiving. So, move on. Thanksgiving happens the second weekend in October in Korea. I said so.

In any case, we thawed our hole turky and got ready to cook it yesterday. My very expensive Butterball turkey had very clear instructions. However, these instructions involved touching this pale, slimy lump of meat in some truly horrifying ways. I had to pull guts out, I had to stick my hand in its butt (later declining to use the screw thingy to sew the hole up) and I had to massage vegetable oil into its clammy, dimpled skin. How do people do this every year? And WHY? I seriously think that we will be having chicken fingers and french fries for Christmas dinner.

In the end, everything turned out well. My $4/lb turkey ended up being delicious, and everything else turned out well. Even the mashed potatoes we made--from a recipe in Cosmo magazine. Which we had to retrieve from the bathroom reading pile (the magazine, not the potatoes). We are klassy, klassy broads.

In which the author thinks...cats, not kids. Right?!?

Sat, 29 Sep 2007 14:38:33 GMT

So, all of our friends have left, either to return to Canada or to go off adventuring. This means that Trish and I are the teachers left with the most experience---a scary, scary fact. It also means we have been inundated with frosh...errr....new teachers. A nice lot, but very KEEN and VERY young.

Anyway, on to why the author is wavering between kids and cats.
A pair of Trish's students were passing notes back and forth in her class. She confiscated the note, but had to have it translated since we STILL don't read Korean. Apparently, it meant "I'm the King of SexyDance, and I watch porn every morning". Charming, eh? The best part was when our head teacher didn't believe it was POSSIBLE for a 12 year old boy to have access to porn. We gently explained to her about how FREE and ACCESSIBLE porn was on the internet. By the look on her face, you'd have thought we'd just told her there was no Tooth Fairy.

Another teacher had to read a journal the other day that also caused some head scratching. The student was describing her weekend and talked about having taken a cab ride from a store somewhere, back to her house. The direct quote was "I didn't have any money for the taxi driver. He seemed rather angry.". SEEMED angry? No, no. He WAS angry. Made for some good reading though.

The only thing that has been making the cats vs. kids even a DISCUSSION is the ongoing behaviour of our cat Wembley. Despite our best (half-hearted) efforts, Wembley likes to bite, particularly arm fat. Or your feet. While you're sleeping. We responded like any good pet owners would, and had him neutered two weeks ago--he is no longer the King of SexyDance in our apartment. As a side note, it appears that not only PEOPLE are over-medicated in Korea. Wembley was required to go back to the vet for three days of post-op care, and forced to wear a cone on his head (which was incidentally too large {Koreans have dogs, not cats} and had to be taped shut). Check out Trish's Facebook for a hilarious video of Wembley doing backflips while wearing the cone. In any case, the cone has been removed, and we no longer have to stuff pills down his throat--though we did learn a novel Korean method that includes blowing on the cat's face--which is surprisingly effective. Still, it's been two weeks, and the cat's penchant for arm fat has not decreased. It's a little worrying.

At least the porn watching kid, and the kid who reneges on the cab driver don't attack us while we sleep.