I know I’m getting ahead of myself here, but I really need to get out of Korea before this happens again. Autumn, stay as long as you can!
Skills, skills, I need more skills.
Yesterday I gave a presentation to an all-Korean audience. I didn’t really prepare until two days before, and then I realized how particularly screwed I was because even though I know my material supremely well in English, I had to look up every other word in the dictionary to make my Korean powerpoint. The day before the presentation, I roped two sweet Korean friends into proofreading and listening to my first runs. When I arrived at Seoul Club, I was feeling prepared, even though I knew I was bound to make some language mistakes. Then, I was introduced to the audience, which was small enough, but included the son of the Korea’s former president and other middle-aged hotshots with PhDs. The newsletter at my seat had a picture of their last week’s speaker — a Yonsei professor. I was growing more and more uneasy by all this and was sadly not able to take advantage of the delicious food at the buffet. Finally, my time came, and I had to go up and do it. The presentation was decent, the q&a session was long and lively, and I survived, mostly because I knew what I was talking about backwards and forward. Big lesson learned: Take Korean language classes seriously.
It’s a beautiful day in Seoul! It’s that insanely perfect time of the year when summer begins into unseeingly inch towards autumn. A lot of sun, just enough wind, and no monsoons. I’m enjoying all this at a cafe with floor-to-ceiling windows where I’m the only customer. Feel like I can conquer the world!
The weather forecast for the next ten days is rain, thunder, and lighting. In my imaginary world, I wouldn’t leave the house until it was all over, unless I was going to go listen to big band jazz. In my reality, I’m going to schlep to a lecture in an hour.
I think if you wear open-toed shoes in Korea during monsoon season, it means that you’re either 1) so vain you can’t stand to wear anything as clunky and clumsy-looking as rain boots with your mini-skirt, or 2) you have a chauffeur.
Every August, my entire Korean family on my mother’s side goes to Geogeum Island in southwest Korea to visit my great-grandmother, who at the age of 88 still lives alone in a big home there.
Her husband died several years ago. They had eight children together, which of whom my grandma is the eldest, and every year, the children go pay their respects at his grave. This year, my mom, sister, and I also gave him the customary two and a half bows.
Tell me, how beautiful is Korea? This photo makes me want to open a book of poetry.
I do not fear calories, and I adore hot dogs of any kind, yet I do fear the grossness that seems to be these massive, thickly battered corn dogs.
Will I eat one yet, though?
Aside from my mom’s, kind of the most perfect rolled omelet I’ve seen.
I do not know why this is so, but I feel more pleasure buying myself flowers than receiving them.
The act of doing something for oneself is powerful.
Photo taken while trying to protect my bouquet in the packed subway.
The Mona Lisa, taken by Juergen Teller.
