YES! I Don't Have Tuberculosis!

So...its a very funny thing for my students to call one another a terrorist, and call me a terrorist. I think its quite funny as well. A typical example is a student, or four, raising their hands, yelling "TEACHER! TEACHER! TEACHER! TEACHER! HE IS TERRORIST!" (while pointing to classmate). This is followed by hysterical laughter and several more attempts of different classmates to brand each other as said villain. This is one of the many ways by which my students amuse themselves, and I seem to be the grand comedic adjudicant, presiding over each un-funny, shouted exclamation with the usual "very funny guys, very funny. Now, can we all turn to page 64 in our workbooks?" It is INSANE how many times one must tell a child to do something incredibly simple. Of course, I command far less respect out of them, as I am a weird, oafish, brown-headed, corn dog eating American, and cannot expect to zone them into the lessons like a Korean, or at least Asian, man could. But, since I have a degree in Comparative Religion and Anthropology and what the hell ever from a tiny hippie summer camp for smart, passionate people, I am a valuable commodity, to the school, and to the parents who pay dearly for their children's English classes. Funny how that works.

Today went well. The teaching is coming along easier everyday, as is the deliberative ordering of food from the cafe across the street that I eat lunch at everyday before work. I have become addicted to this dish called "dosa ibeembop" (no clue what it means) which is like a steaming bowl of shredded cucumbers, cabbage, kale, egg, hot sauce, rice, and bean sprouts. Said dish is preceded by kim-chi and a particularly Korean permutation of miso soup, with constant glasses of water to counteract the dynamite hot sauce on EVERYTHING. I love it. I read 2012: Essays in Transformation over this steaming bowl of goodness everyday before work, making sure to exercise the newly acquired skill of keeping my tie out of my food constantly.

A good piece of news today: I passed my medical test! I had to get my blood, urine, and x-ray taken last thursday in order to obtain my Alien Registration Card, a necessary implement for the opening of a bank account, and legal residence in the country for longer than thirty days. No narcotics, or life-threatening diseases were found in my system. So, NEVER TRUST A KOREAN DOCTOR. So excited that now, finally, all of the hoops have been successfully jumped through, and I am officially a legal resident of this great country, if only for a year. I can even get a cell phone, finally!

I am meeting up with Jason, my friend from Portland, in about twenty minutes. We are going to go to the bar where the fish eat off of your feet, because for some inexplicable, bizarre, disgusting reason, I like it. And it makes my feet feel cleaner than they ever would otherwise. But, on the whole, I am getting very much used to my neighborhood, and my job, and this city.

I have been listening today to Tori Amos, Tomahawk, and the Psychedelic Furs, as well as NPR and BBC World News Service. Life is good. My belly is full, and my head is clear, or as clear as it evidently needs to be.

Well, I am out into the rainy Busan night-- to get my feet nipped at by weird little fish and for copious amounts of cheap Korean beer and fermented cabbage! So weird. And I don't even really know what culture shock is! I love this shit!

Life is real nice.

I love you, dear reader, and I wish you were here with me!

Happy Trails!