So, that's what having purpose looks like

Growing up in Wisconsin, two things have become so familiar they seem almost inherent: church basement  potlucks and polite friendliness. People all over the United States talk about “Midwest Nice” in that we lend a hand to friends and strangers alike in any situation at any given time.

I only say this because I want you to grasp my full meaning when I say that Korea offers me unprecedented kindness over and over again. Whilst here, I have picked up several hobbies, ultimate frisbee being the most prominent. This community of people is such an incredible compilation of hospitality, competition, spirit, and overall excellent human beings. It also fueled my passion for something while I was in need of finding a purpose last autumn. But, mostly it gave me the freedom to enjoy myself and other while playing a sport—to play for the love of the game as opposed to winning a title, championship, or record.

I took this newfound passion with me while my father came to visit. He and I dabbled a bit in tossing the disc on the beach. We waded up to our kneecaps (the deepest that Korean lifeguards allow people to swim in the ocean) and started to throw the disc to each other and my friend who joined us for the hike and swim. Out of nowhere, an ajeossi (uncle) clad in a wet suit and a full body life jacket caught the disc and threw it back to us. And, then there were four. So, we kept tossing back and forth, the ajeossi making gratuitous leaps into the ocean and coming up with a giant grin and clutching the disc. As we continued throwing, two little girls came closer to us to play. Another ajeossi lingered near the edge until I threw the disc to him and he greedily accepted it and joined our circle. We grew to such a number that I went to get my second disc.

By the end, we had two ajeossis, two little girls, three medium sized boys, a mother of one of the boys, and a couple around my age. Throughout this entire endeavor, I kept looking at this motley crew of humanity, and anticipation, joy, and excitement lit every face. We cobbled together conversations knowing that in this one fleeting moment, we felt the same emotions regardless of age, gender, or race. Afterward, my father asked me if I knew any of those people. I said, “No, but that was one of those Korea moments that encapsulates everything I need at this exact moment, in this exact place.”

It is in moments like this when I remember exactly how small my existence really is. I have been granted these 25 years, really just a blip on the time/space continuum. This was merely one hour in one day, in one year, in one decade, in one century. This did not change the course of history. This did not make earth shattering discoveries. But, it did create a community—however small, however strange—for a moment in time. People came together from all walks of life to have this shared experience. And, this is what I love about Korea. “Korea Nice” is joining in a game for the love of playing it. It is ajummas (aunts) holding my hand on the subway because I was alone. It is my halmonie (grandmother) downstairs who takes care of me when I need it. It is a community of foreigners who love and accept you wholly and truly.

Korea has given me so many opportunities to explore who I am. More importantly, it has opened up a host of phenomenal men and women who consistently encourage me to grow and be better, regardless of how brief our interaction. Parenthetically, it also has church basement potlucks, but they serve kimchijeon instead of green bean casserole. Sad panda.

So, I took a swim

With a child's mask snug on my face and neon fins elongating my own set of flippers, I threw myself over the side of the boat, hoping to God the water was deep enough. I splashed and floundered about until I got my bearings. The sky, a searing azure, melded into the sea at some point on the hazy horizon. I dipped my head under the water for a peek of something I can never have.

The Andaman Sea crackled with possibility. The teal waters surrounding Koh Rok hosted an intricate labyrinth of wild life, so untouched by humanity. Materialism, commercialism, capitalism, communism all gave way to this time and space in which humans can only observe and never be a part. I wished I had gills with which to breathe, but all I had were photographs written in memories and the obnoxious necessity of taking in air.

These corals were not the flashy sort you see lounging around the Great Barrier or the Caribbean. They were a humbler folk, swathed in browns and burnt umber. The tiny holes stretched wide breathing in hydrogen, and I oxygen. These pieces of coral, large blocks of living organisms, sit both adjacent to and tangent from one another.

The fish darted back and forth like lab rats in a test that never ends. The iridescent scales shimmered in the dancing sunlight reflecting in the salt and water. I named them all as Adam did--foolishly claiming them as my own.

The first, Rita. Her scales, a shaded grey-green rainbow. The vibrant colors, masked by a translucent cover, pushed through, determined to show their beauty. Her head was pink on the bottom and a brilliant blue on top. We locked eyes, each regarding the other's form. We swam away, each turning back and stealing glances of the exotic beauty we've left behind.

The second, Marius, an uppity green fellow so bright he could light up the Vegas strip—the yellow dots along his sides complemented his pink underbelly and orange lips. His school danced in the waves, as he desperately tried to conduct a lesson. The yellow stripe on his dorsal twitched in annoyance as I invaded his classroom hoping to learn something, too.

The bright purple cone with green hair sprouting in tufts housed a sea anemone. Marlin and Nemo played tag amongst the swaying fronds. Their orange and white stripes chased each other as clouds chase the sun.  Dory came to play as well, but she was a mammoth compared to the little clowns. Her blue and yellow tail switched back and forth moving her toward more appropriate corals.

Gerald, the cabbie, swished his black and white checkered body in front of my face, urging me to hold on. He took me to where I needed to go, even though I didn’t know it. I followed his orange head as it bobbed in between Marius’ school and Rita’s vanity. He took me to this shallow crag rife with sea spines so close they almost tickled. Their spikes simultaneously foreboding and beautiful. I could just see past them to see a myriad of colors beneath—an orange that defied the setting sun, a Macintosh red, a translucent gel with a hint of blue at its very center. All of them waved to meet me, this gargantuan alien.

The mussels in this crag were a Georgia O'Keefe tribute--opening and closing with each breath. Their hard outer shells hid unique inner linings, each with an identifying stripe, polka dot, or striking color. Little neon trumpets exhaled music and bubbles, but they were so easy to scare. A snap or swift kick of my fin sent them deep in the recesses of their homes. I left them with a flip of my fin and a shake of my head, hoping a dorsal would sprout.

Later, while swimming over a deeper part of the sea, I dove down to the bottom to grasp a piece of garbage half buried in the sand. How could someone so carelessly misplace their wrappers and sully this paradise? My snorkel filled with water and salt, my teeth clenched against its barrage. All of the fish watched me move through the water, and as I surfaced, I swam through their grateful gaze.

In that moment, humanity seemed barbaric. Pillaging one of the few places left untouched by our greedy paws. This life, this sea, this ocean has survived millions of years relying on its own intuition. Entire ecosystems have ignited, evolved, died, and began anew without any help from humans. They are a phoenix rising and leaving us in its fiery wake. It’s baffling when we, as people, think that we know the best way to coexist, when we have had more years of war than years of peace. The Earth is not ours to own and do with as we please. She is a living and breathing goddess on whom we reside.
  

After four hours of wonder, I peeled off my mask and fins, hoping my memory didn’t go with them. It seems trivial to try to write something to match their vivid colors and intricate way of life. As the boat surged west, I sprawled on the bow, salt crystals forming on my skin, in complete awe of the world I call home.

So, I bitch-slapped a jellyfish

I mean there's more to the story.  Although, just keeping it at that could be fun, too.

Anyway, so this past weekend, I went to Geoje to hang out with one of my friends who will be leaving soon.  I left my high school and walked to the subway station.  I grabbed some food at Shinsegae, because Mama's gotta have something in her tummy.

As I was eating my orange sesame chicken on the terrace, I spotted a gaggle of way-gooks come up the escalator.  Now, there are two different types of way-gooks in Busan.  The word "bunch" describes group one.  Whereas, "gaggle" can only describe group two...and geese.

Type 1.  The seasoned Busan-ite who either lives or works here.  You can tell who these people are by the giant hiking back pack OR no pack at all, sandals or flats, and a subtle awareness of knowing we are foreign. 
Type:2. These people have their Nikons hanging round their neck, money belts not so skillfully disguised under loose fitting Hawaiian shirts, tennis shoes, and a complete lack of awareness that they are the other OR complete and utter awareness that they are the other.  Both responses have them swiveling their heads from side to side like that rollie chair that your mom had for her office that you weren't allowed to sit in because you'd break it.  Yeah, that one.


Right.  So, this gaggle of way-gooks crosses my vantage point.  It was a hilarious moment.  I watched as 4 middle aged couples maneuver the escalator.  They stood right at the top of the escalator to decide what they would do next.  While stopped, Koreans ninja-ed around them, throwing scowls and natural bemusement at these people who cannot figure out how to handle themselves. Several threw furtive glances my way, and as I was about to walk over to help them out, no shit out of my seat, one woman tossed her hands in the air, turned on her heal, and entered the basement of Shinsegae.  Everyone shrugged their shoulders and followed her. 

Now, the revolving door at Shinsegae is huge.  Each of the three partitions could probably fit Clay Matthews, AJ Hawke and Ryan Grant comfortably.  But, in the States, the revolving doors are so small, you go through one at a time.  So, each of these people wait for their own partitions, much to the chagrin of all the Koreans queuing behind them.  After about 1 minute 30 seconds, the whole gaggle is in the store (the first woman impatient as all hell).  Then, the Koreans start piling through the revolving door 4-6 at a time.  On the other side of the glass, the way-gooks face palmed at the ingenuity of going more than one at a time.  They all guffawed about their silliness, while everyone else was plotting different ways to kill them, and I just quietly giggled.

That was the start to this adventure.  I took a subway and then a bus to Geoje.  I have been so immersed in my book that I took in absolutely zero surroundings.  When I disembark (which is seriously the antonym for embark....I thought it was too clunky, but alas, Thesaurus.com never lies, right?) the bus, I spot my friend Louis.  We wait at the bus stop for our friend, Daphne, to collect us. 

Daphne arrives with a tag-team of awesome Jenna and Jen.  We fuel up and catch the next bus to Gujora Beach.  When I commented to Daphne, "Oh, wow, there is a lot of coast here."  She sort of looked at me like a corgi always looks--head tilted to the side--, and said, "Well, Katie, it is an island." 

It was at this point that I mumbled and looked away.  It was a comical moment.

Our bus snaked around the island for about 45 minutes.  We passed giant shipyards and sunken beaches.  Finally, we arrive at the last stop.  We just had to cross over a ridge, go through a mildly sketchy part of town, then descend to the beach.

Once there, 3/5 of us went into the water.  I am a sucker for water.  I feel like Poseidon could have been my father.  I went in and under right away.  The salt water burned my eyes, my throat, my hair.  It was such an amazing feeling.  Jen, Daphne, and I swam out towards a smaller island in the distance.  About halfway, Daphne bid us adieu, and it was game time for Jen and I.

We didn't know each other, really at all.  We had met briefly, and I was super intimidated by this woman.  She is tall, beautiful, and fabulous.  The middle-schooler in me shrank back in fear that she wouldn't like me, but the adventure seeker in me said, "Put a sock in it, Insecurities.  I wanna go to that island."

We started swimming towards this island.  It was about 500-700 meters away depending on the diagonal.  I had been rocking the lifeguard approach stroke, but then my arms felt like they were going to fall off, so I switched to breast stroke.

Jen and I were talking about life experiences and whatever one talks about while swimming to a rocky shore.  I commented about how amazingly blue the water is.  About 130 meters from the shore, I could still see my feet as if I were looking through glass.  I pushed into the glide motion (rocket ship) of breast stroke, and I smacked into something less solid than rock, but more solid than water.  I looked down into the water and it looked like a clear swim cap full of water. 

It took me a split second to register that clear swim caps do not hang out in salt water.  Then, I screamed--like a child.  I freaked the hell out.  With a chorus of "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!" I sputtered over towards Jen.  I explained that I just bitch-slapped a jelly fish in the face and that I was terrified that she would get her tentacle-y revenge.

She said, "Oh, yes, Gujora is known for their jellyfish population."

"Budegabah! What? Now is the time y'all let me know?  Aw, shoot."

At this time, we were only about 100 meters from the island, and I was too skeered to go back and face the Jelly, so we pressed on.

I am so glad we did, because we finally reached the island and pulled ourselves up on the rocks over the zebra mussels.  (Neat! Now I have blood to attract the sharks that are just jonesin for my sweet Wisconsin blood.) We scrambled about this giant rock pile, taking in the greatness that surrounded us.  The isthmus of land, the other bay, and the mountains enclosed us in this perfect time and place. 

As we surveyed our landing, we spied two sea caves.  We had to cross a small water path to get onto that island. Jen and I found a pretty good spot to start climbing this rock face (a solid 10 meters off of the water).  We boulder scrambled over to the caves and just took in their abyssal beauty.  We wanted to swim in them, but then decided against it for fear of being swept with the tide.


As we traversed back to shore, we simply marveled at what we accomplished.  I thought of the privileged life I live surrounded by so much fantastic beauty.  It really makes me think of how humans can possibly make something so amazing more perfect.  Then, I realized, we can't.

So, I guess I will have to cross that off my "never have I ever" list...

As some of you may know, my personal space bubble wraps me like cellophane. It is generally transparent, and closes in so tight around me, many pretend it isn't even there.

However, very few of you have seen me sans vetements.  One would think that because I was a swimmer and hate wearing pants with every fiber of my being, that I would embrace public nudity and other such sundry behaviors.  WRONG.  I get super weirded out and uncomfortable, as if my skin sticks to closely to me while I'm in another person's presence.  I feel all child-like and in the words of the amazing Kalli Nielsen: "I feel looked at."  When I am wearing less clothes than the average bear, I am generally alone, and just basking in all of my Lady Godiva glory.

This morning, I went swimming with a friend of mine, but I had to leave early if I wanted to make it to school on time.  I walked into the locker room, and there were people doin' what they do in locker rooms.  This is not new to me.  I worked at the local YMCA, and I have had my share of accidental, "Oh, why, yes I would love to talk to you about your child's swim lesson while you are completely nakey no-pants.  I think that is a swell idea and not at all uncomfortable."  But, never have I ever participated in it myself. Never have I ever had a left-field college public bath experience. But, let me tell you something, in Korea, there are giant public saunas called Jjimjilbangs, so public nudity is totally a thing here.  I guess, it isn't really public, but it is far more public than my apartment, bathroom, or occasional late-night, dark ocean swim.

Anyway, I digress.  Today, I walked in the locker room needing to take a shower after my swim.  I knew, I just knew that if I pulled the high school shower with the swim suit on, I would be scrutinized way more than if I just went in there white as a picket fence, and showered as fast as I could.

I took a deep breath, terrified that I would be smote for breaking one law or another. And, I participated in my first Korean public bath situation.  I walked into the shower room (which was quite lovely, by the way.  There were these incredibly aesthetic pools, a sauna, and a foot bath...but no shower stalls), and immediately about 18 eyes turned in my direction.  If it was a scene in a movie, the women would have been like owls perched in branches peeping through my bedroom window.  Alas, it was real life. And, these women were not owls, but all middle aged people who were as interested in my freckles as they were captivated by skin color.

Most looked away quickly, but some kept on staring.  I started to rinse off when a woman sidled up next to me and offered to share her shampoo and conditioner.  I gratefully took some of it.  She started talking to me.  I told her I didn't understand, but I think that all she wanted was someone to listen (and who better than the way-gook who cannot understand anyway).  I think she introduced me to all of the women, and invited me back to the pool someday soon.

It was in that moment that I lost all insecurities.  I suppose that isn't true.  I was still painfully aware of my very American body in contrast with their very Korean ones, but I realized that in this country it doesn't matter.  We are all women, and we are all beautiful in our own rights.  Although, I was incredibly uncomfortable for every second I was in my birthday suit, not one person in that room judged me.  They just saw me as foreign and exotic.  They saw me as an outsider who only wants to fit in--to be a part of whatever parts of this culture I can cobble together to make my own.  It was this very jarring personal moment when I realized that there are 6 billion people and googleplex  of ideas in this world.  If I only meet people and take part in ideas that make me comfortable, I will be missing out on too many opportunities that could change my world.

So, it's time to put my Pants back on and be excited for what's to come in the future.

So, that was fun...

Do you all remember when I swore off Sojanta in my last message.  Psyche! I think it is a beach thing.  Back in the states, if you're on a beach and you're not drinking Corona with a lime, you've have got all kinds of crazy, my friend.  It is the same here, if you are drinking anything but Sojanta on the beach, you aughtta be slapped silly.  (However, there was some Chocovine and red and white wine intake, but not as much intake).

Anyway, the night before a public holiday for Something or Other, I toooooootally crashed a bachelorette party.  I had met about half of the women before, but I just sort of showed up with a friend.  I was holding a baguette, so all was well.

I would just like to comment about the ex-patriot community here.  It goes like this:

Me: Hi, I am Katie.  I just showed up with a Baguette.
Person: Hi, I am ______. That sounds great! Let's be best friends forever.

The expedience with which people form connections is synaptic.  People get so close so quickly.    You enter into these friendships with such vivacity that you cannot even breathe. But, it is always a waiting game.  Everyone has their expiration date.

I met a woman this weekend, we'll just call her Bear Hands for anonymity.  I had met her once or twice before, but then I randomly ran into her at Haeundae beach. Within moments, I was made into a sand mermaid, and we and a bunch of co-mingled friends, were discussing our on philosophical life views, with a hint of existentialism and a wee bit of pretension.  It takes months and years of trust, friendship, and hanging out before I usually become comfortable.  I feel like time it takes to form friendships is akin to the gestation period of Bella Swan's vampbaby, Renesme, who clawed her way out of her mother's LP.  Super weird.  But, the effect is just really fast, really serious.  I like it, but it also throws someone like me who (in a friendship sense) is a test the water before jumping in kind of kid.


And, this is what Bear Hands and I were talking about.  I had said something about not believing that this is the life I am living.  And, that I am still sort of waiting to wake  up from an incredibly awesome dream, and hopefully a cameo from Brian Littrell or Helena Bonham-Carter.

She asked me why did it have to be a dream, and this is something on which I have pondered for a great long time since this conversation.  I think it was that growing up, I was not an adventure seeker or a risk taker.  The only reason I got hurt was because I was too proud to say, "maybe going down that double black diamond my third time skiing is not such a great idea."

Now, it seems as though that I am actually living all of my childhood adventures.  I am hiking up tall mountains, swimming in blue green seas, standing at the top of a subway station wondering how the hell do those posts hold all of this cotton candy wonder above.

I am consistently amazed and surprised by everything here.  Never did I ever think I would be in another Shakespeare play.  Never did I ever think that I would be decent at Ultimate Frisbee.  Never did I ever think that I could be a part of such a bustling community.  You see an ex-pat on the bus or subway, you say hi.  

This dream-like adventure is fantastic for a year or so.  I give mad props to people who can be away for longer.  I feel like I am in the Land of Lotus Eaters.  This life is something so beautiful and sweet.  But, my pragmatic side fears that I will lose touch with reality.  I need that sense of home and safety.  Without it, I just feel like a lost child meandering through the roads and alleys of my introspective brain.

So, today is Buddha's birthday

Which means no school today, huzzah!

Sunday was the final dress rehearsal of the play, and so afterward we all went to the beach to have a pre-show cast party.

We showed up, a gaggle of way-gooks, and put our things down and crack a bottle of wine and the ever so sneaky So ju.  Now, so ju is sort of like a cross between Everclear and rubbing alcohol.  But, if you mix it with Fanta (Sojanta) it tastes like juice and will promptly get you screwed up twelve ways til Tuesday.

Before I had a drink, I was all about playing volleyball.  So, we started bumping around this fluorescent orange flowered volleyball.  We hear a little voice behind us that said, "You play soccer?"  So, we invited the Little Tyke to play soccer with us.  And, holy crap, there is nothing more adorable than an 8 year old Korean boy schooling 5 adults.  He never stopped moving!  He cudgeled his brother into playing, and then the teams became fair.

I had a moment while I was playing that I thought this cannot possibly be my life.  I was playing soccer under a blanket of fireworks and galaxies with a little boy named Tae Ho.  The ocean to my right pulsed with the same vivacity as the blood through my veins.

The evening shifted to night, and Tae Ho had to go.  I went swimming, and came back washed in salt and dreams. We settled in for a sing a long and more volleyball.  I drank in Sojanta and memories.  Last night made for the true Busan experience: the moment that strangers become friends and friends become family.

So, I saw a fanny pack today

Aaaaaaaand, I was able to snap a pic.

So, in Busan (really, in India) there is a festival called Holi.  It is a festival to welcome spring, new life, and love.  It was such a jarring experience.  I think it was the biggest culture shock I have ever had.  I was there for five minutes when a man I have never seen before comes up to me with a handful of colored powder, put it on my face and said, "Happy Holi!"  After that, it was just a free for all.  There were so many paints, so many colors.  There was so much love and camaraderie.  I was overwhelmed at the incredible amount of people.

I think my favorite part of the day was spying someone rocking the fanny pack.  she was just dancing around and hanging out, and there it was.  Wearing a fanny exactly where a fanny should be worn.  Right in front mid waist height.  She was awesome!!  So,  I crept up and said, "Hey, umm, my friends back home are obsessed with fanny packs.  Would it be weird if I took a picture of it/you?"  She gratefully responded, "Aw, yeah, girl of course!  Who doesn't love a good fanny."  So, fanny packs are a phenomena that will never be erased.  Not in America, not in Korea, for sure not in Europe, those cats are crazy!  So, Fanny Packs 4eva!


So, this is a poem I wrote to try to capture some sort of sense of what I experienced today.  Don't judge.  It is just a baby in its first draft.  If you have any suggestions, by all means, please do.

celebration

arms raised with unabandoned joy

gritty sand buries my feet

paint on my face, dancing like a fool

at the Holi celebration preparing for Spring

the gritty sand burying my feet

reminds me of a time spent in childhood dreams.

as the Holi celebration prepares for spring,

love brushes the air with one giant stroke.

the time spent in childhood dreams

brings me to a place of simplicity and joy.

love brushes across the air

as I run, dance, and sing for joy.

a place of simplicity and joy

surrounded by friends and strangers

who run, dance, and sing for joy

and paint my face a brilliant collage.

friends and strangers

come together in circles and lines

painting a brilliant collage

of bodies moving as one person.

all of us who come together in circles and lines

meld culture, gender and race.

the bodies move as one.

a forgotten view of humanity.

we meld culture, gender, and race

to create something new and entirely our own.

a view of humanity. forgotten. 

in doing so, we are made perfect.

creating something new and entirely our own

takes communication, understanding, and respect.

in that, we are made perfect.

exactly in God’s image.

communication, understanding and respect

comes from deep within our hearts,

exactly in God’s image

with our arms raised in unabandoned joy.

So, that was the painting part.  I was sooooooooo dirty.  Some of my friends came prepared and were wearing swimming suits, just in case they jumped into.  Now, it is March.  It is still around 50 degrees.  It is an ocean.  I was looking at them like they were crazy folks.  

Then, as I was talking to them praising their audacity, my friend Mari runs up and says, "Hey, I want to go swimming, but I need a buddy."  I responded with, "No way, man.  It is so freaking cold.  That's absurd.  I also don't have a suit..."  She said that she was just going to drop trou and go in her underpants.  So, there I was, giving into peer pressure like I always do.  So, I took off my shirt (I was wearing a cami) and took off my pants and was standing around in my skivvies.  And, I knew that I could go in toe by toe.  This was a full submersion mission.  So, I tagged her and ran away.  I ran right into the water, came up and sprayed water out of my mouth like a dolphin. 

After about 30 seconds, my legs were numb and all of the hair I just shaved off of them was back and healthy.  We paddled around for a while, discussing how much we miss being in and near water.  And, even the fact that this is freezing, it is the most we've felt alive.  Then, my friend Brian joins, and sure not to be out done, Steve barrels in as well (I think it may have been because I called him a pansy...) Anyway, none of us were prepared.  So, there we were, the four of us, swimming around in the freezing ocean in nothing but out underpants.  Afterward, we took a picture to commemorate this awesome event.  People who don't even know me came up to me saying that I had balls of steel, and that I am a true rock star, which I think is completely appropriate.  :)