Gee gee gee gee

Baby Baby (Recap from last blog.)

I looked at my stats on the blog and realized that I was averaging 1 blog post per month this year...if that. So I want to remedy that, but all I have is snippets, so make do.

A few weeks ago, I was skyping my grandparents. I told them their camera wasn't working; it was a big ordeal to figure out where the little camera button was that they had to press. Finally, they got it--and there sat my shirtless and unshaven grandpa, with my grandma standing next to him in her underpants. Sometimes I wonder if technology is really the blessing we think it is.

An interesting part of Japanese life is the comments/compliments I get from Japanese people. Being a foreigner, I am aware that my level of attractiveness goes up about two points (I heard this is a similar experience for women in the army--a point made by my ROTC friend). A result from this is that anytime I alter my appearance--even minimally--I can expect feedback. This happened the other day when I wore my hair in not one, but TWO buns (extravagant!!!). In every single class, someone made a comment on this (except for my kids classes--but the moms made comments when they came to pick up their kids, so technically, still applicable)--and fortunately, it was all positive, or at least neutral (one of my students in her 40s told me I looked younger--seeing as I am only 24, how old do I look like normally?). At the end of the day, a (male) coworker told me, "Hey Jillian--just in case anyone said something, I think your hair looks good." I had been collecting the trash, but I stopped what I was doing to sputter, "Wait, what? Did...someone say something?" It turned out that he meant to say that in case no one said anything, he thought I should know it looked good--he just has a way of giving left-handed compliments. Yesterday, I wore what I thought was a classy, all black belted outfit with my hair down (a first in a long time since the summer began), and I got told that I looked "slick" and "wild". I'm fairly sure both were meant to be taken as compliments, but I often wonder what students are really trying to get at when they say these things.

Earthquake Break

It's been about 6 months now; I feel like I need to move onto another topic. So 3/11 will have to take a backseat for now.

My dad, stepmom, and little sister came to visit in August during my week off. Having people come out here is such a surreal experience, because despite having been to Japan 3 times and living here for over a year, there's this weird feeling that comes from seeing people from a different place where you've never seen them before. Like having your teacher over for dinner (which was another experience that I had, but in reverse, since I was the teacher). All in all; I think Japan was too humid and requires too much walking for the typical visitor, but it was still great to have them come. I got to have a few sleepovers with my sister, and I was deeply unnerved by how few snacks she wanted to eat. Kids these days.

I said "Sayonara" to the folks on Wednesday night, and early Wednesday afternoon I saddled myself up and left for the west--which, ironically, was not to America, but to Korea. I was going to meet Hera "Potter" Yoon, who was finishing off her 6-or-so week long traverse of Asia. On my (thunderstorm delayed) plane ride, I had visions of Korean BBQ and cosmetics dancing through my head (when I asked my students what they recommended in Korea, that was the answer I received: food and cosmetics--and apparently only women visit Korea from Japan).

After grabbing my luggage and exchanging my yen, my first thought was, "Korea is awesome!" I had originally tried to exchange my money in Japan, but when I asked the advisor hanging around the exchange booth about the rate for Korean won, he leaned over and whispered, "Excuse me, miss, but actually; I've heard the rates are better in Korea." I took his advice, and didn't regret it--coming ahead about $70. And everything in Korea is so cheap! Taking the 45 minute or so bus ride into Seoul was only around $1o (train being about $3--but at that point, I wanted to take the least stressful option possible).

Seoul seemed to better fit my original image of what Tokyo was like--busy, bright lights, constant activity. And while Tokyo is like that; absolutely, Seoul felt a bit more vibrant; more approachable. It was like a dirtier, louder, and friendlier version of Tokyo.

The next morning, I was finally reunited with one H. Yoon, who immediately took me to the cosmetic section of Seoul, where we spent the rest of the day. The streets were overflowing with cosmetic stores, and I mean that quite realistically--salesgirls stood outside every entrance, a pile of baskets with samples inside for anyone who came into browse (usually the sample was a free face mask, which I admit I have grown quite fond of). But after living in Japan, where docile salesgirls stand smiling at a comfortable distance, I was definitely feeling my personal space continuously invaded as cosmetic girls hovered within arm's reach, waiting to assist or drag us to the register. No sooner would I pick up a tube before the girl would comment, "That's lipstick." Thanks for the translation.

Hera thought it would be a nice trick to tell one of the multi-lingual salesgirls that I only spoke Japanese girls. Not only did the girl play along with the trick, but she continued with the ruse the entire time we were there. She tried to get me to buy a serum that looked like an injection needle, I believe called B-tox (guess what that's supposed to simulate). At around $50, it was a bit expensive for my taste, and I told her as much. In Japanese, she agreed, but told me it was cheaper than real botox and would help with the lines around my eyes. At the elderly age of 24, I decided that I didn't need any form injections, be it Botox or Faux-tox.

Soon, however, the bad weather I had tried to shake off in Tokyo caught up, and we rushed into Forever 21 to avoid the rain. When we left, I was handed a brochure advertising 1 hour massages for $20. As I have never had a professional massage, I decided to jump at the offer, and Hera acquiesced to join, having just come from a trip full of $3 massages. After arriving at the place and trying to enter the unmarked, though clearly under construction elevator, we debated the ghetto-ness factor of the place as we trudged up the 5 flights of stairs. When we arrived and they gave us outfits for during the massage that looked like junior high gym clothes, I decided that the place was definitely tinged with ghetto. After entering the massage room and seeing about 4 of the 8 tables that were already occupied, my mind was completely decided: ghetto massage central. But we already paid, and I figured a massage was a massage. Which I was clearly wrong about, because what I experienced was about 3/4ths forced yoga (try and say 3/4ths forced four times fast) and about 1/4th elbow massage. In the end, good enough.

After shopping around all day; we finally settled into a dinner of Yum Yum Chicken (not sure what the actual name is, but it sounds like that, basically). Seeing as they have to kill about 10 chickens for the meal, I felt sufficiently stuffed at the end of the meal. When we walked outside, it was pouring rain--so when stuffed full of chicken with the threat of immediate soaking, there is only one option, really: Korean Karaoke. After shopping around for prices, we settled on the place that gave us the cheapest (though universal price)--the only place that offered us the low price from the get-go (we rewarded honesty). We did, however, discover Japanese karaoke is about the same price, but usually some kind of refreshment is included--so in my mind, Japan wins the karaoke contest. But still--one of the highlights of the trip for me was a heartfelt rendition of Spice Girl's "2 Become 1". And a warning: unless you never want to take yourself seriously again, don't watch that music video.

During the trip, I felt a bit bad because I kept feeling sickly--mentally, I wanted to eat all the goodies Korea had to offer, but physically, my stomach kept saying, "Meh. You don't really need food." Then I would get a headache, or I would have cramps, or something ridiculous. But being able to reconnect with a friend whose presence was (is) very much missed was a great salve to the soul for me (if not necessarily for the body, apparently)(not that I expected Hera to be a salve for the body...awkward).

With that awkward moment, and not getting past the first day of my trip, I'll wrap it up. But I'll leave on a nice Korean note, in the chord of "Gee."