Ugly Duck

I am not artistically inclined.  The best form of art I can manage is a doodle on the cramped edged of a paper placemat.  I'm a doodler, not an artist.  Even though I have NEVER been able to draw, paint or sculpt with any great finesse, as a child I thought my "art" was fabulous.

When I was in second grade, I made my mother a clay duck.  It took me until the final minute to finally finish and do the best job I could.  I remember coming home and being embarrassed by the uneven wings.  The crooked bill.  The less than stellar painting skills of an 8 year old.  When I presented that misfit clay duck to my mother, I may as well have given her a handful of diamonds.  I can still remember her face lighting up as if she just received a rare gift.  Every single piece of art that I ever gave her was met with the same joy.  

Whether it was a painting of a dinosaur or the meticiulous drawing of a wasp that took me the majority of science class, through the eyes of my mother I was Picasso.  Da Vinci.  Van Gough.  She kept every single painting or clay art project I ever gave her.  Kept, not because they were masterpieces, but because they were made by me.  

This little trip down memory lane comes from the art projects I do with my kids at school.  I see their parents reactions and I am disappointed that I don't see their faces light up as mine did.  They see the "art" as little more than pieces of paper to clutter an already cluttered house.  The "sculptures" as just another thing from school to create more chaos in their organized living room.  I have been to the houses of my kids and even though there were toys galore and more clothes than they could ever wear, I was hard pressed to find very many of the crafts or paintings made at school.

Almost 17 years after I gave that ugly duck to my mother, it is still kept in her china cabinet.  Kept alongside other creations from my sisters as well as pieces of a more intrinsitic value.  

Growing up I knew I wasn't an artist.  I knew that sculpting or painting wasn't something I was good at or really even enjoyed.  What I did know was that my mother would have supported me if I did.  She would  have been the first in line to see my gallery opening of ugly ducks with ill-proportioned bodies if it made me happy.

Thank you Mom for always making me feel like the Picasso of the Comer household.  

Koreanism, Weekends, Plates

#156.  Most Korean homes have a separate refrigerator specifically for kimchi.  While kimchi is one of my favorite side dishes, it is also one of the most potent.  Even with kimchi in the "odor locking" containers, the pugnant smell somehow permeates into the refrigerator giving that carton of milk a decidedly kimchi taste.  There's nothing I loathe more than eating a bowl of cereal that has a little kick of kimchi.  I love my kimchi but kimchi in my milk is a bit much.

#157. Here in Korea it is extremely rare to have dressing rooms in clothing stores.  Here, everyone should know exactly how something will look on them and either buy it or put it back.  Not for me.  I need that dressing room to do the squats in that expensive pair of jeans to make sure they fit right.  I need to make sure tops fit correctly.  Swimsuits are as figure flattering as possible.  No dressing rooms?  No thank you.  I am not a cookie cutter size and do not possess a photographic memory. 

#158. Korea and snow.  More specifically, snow removal.  In Pohang, snow is a rarity.  Let me clarify.  This past January was the first snowfall that was more than a dusting in more than 50 years.  Due to this, the city was clueless on how to react to all the white, mushy stuff.  The citizens of Pohang did their best to remove the snow but instead of buying the standard shovels to take care of sidewalks or streets, they used pieces of card board or dustpans.  Yes.  Cardboard and dustpans.

#159. Hot weather.  Rainy weather.  Snowy weather.  Get out the umbrellas!  While the foreigners were happily romping around while the snow was coming down, the Koreans didn't seem to share our enthusiasm.  Bundled up in layers with an umbrella shielding their perfectly coiffed hair was how they enjoyed the beautiful white snowfall.  Oh Korea....

During the past 48 hours I accomplished hardly any of the goals I had set out for myself.  I had originally planned to have everything packed up for the return trip to "Amurica" by Sunday evening.  Well, it's Sunday evening and my apartment is in much the same state as it was on Friday evening: destroyed.

Instead of staying in and meticiulously packing for home, I decided to go out and experience my last weekend with some amazing people.  A decision I do not regret.  Friday night was spent in a DVD Bang with two of my favorite people, Alissa and Pat.  Saturday included alot of napping and the farewell party for my favorite bar in Pohang, Tilt Bar and Grill.  They are moving locations and will be open again at a bigger and better location near the beach sometime in February.  Sunday was spent much the same way as Saturday, alot of napping.

Dinner before TILT with one of my favorite people, Gayle

Even though my weekend lacked in the structure or productivity department, one goal WAS achieved.  I finally found the plate for my mother.  She has been asking, the request growing a bit more impatiently in the succeeding months, for a Korean plate to proudly display.  While I don't exactly understand why this was so important, who I am to question my mother.  My tired self, along with one of my best girls Virginia, spent the better part of an afternoon finding the perfect plate. Not too big.  Not too small.  Koreanesque looking.  Sheesh.  Eventually the blessed thing was found so now the next challenge is to get it through 3 airports in 3 different countries and 19 hours of continuous flight in one piece.   We shall see how that adventure unfolds.

In a few days I will be home.  Correction, in almost exactly 3 days from this moment I will be home.

Woah, shit just got real.  America here I come.   

Harley Davidson and Adoptive Korean Moms

Where to start.  I had quite the weekend that ranged from a movie night with friends to a solo adventure around and about Korea.  Here is a quick recap for those loyal readers out there.

Friday night was movie night.  A bunch of us decided that due to the fact that there were no other decent films out (and we all not so secretly wanted to see it) we would see the new Narnia movie.  It ended up being quite the kiddie film but the amazing features coupled with stellar graphics made it quite the Narnian experience.  Here is my review.  If you have the option to see it in 3D don't miss the opportunity.  The graphics and flying dragon alone will be well worth the hefty ticket price.  If it is just playing in the regular theaters wait for it on DVD.  It's a well crafted film but loses some appeal for the older audiences.

Saturday was spent in Daegu where a simple "Girls Day" turned into a seven hour solo adventure of finding  the elusive Harley Davidson store.  Why would I go on an adventure to find this particular shop?  Anyone who knows me knows that I am not exactly the typical leather chaps, Harley Davidson wearing, biker babe.  However,  I am the daughter of a wanna be biker dude who settles for t-shirts from foreign countries.  His only request is that his tshirts have the name of the country they were purchased in.  Sounds simple enough right?  WRONG!  The only shops in Korea are in Seoul (a solid 5 hours away) and the one near Daegu (almost 2 hours).  Clearly this would mean that ordering it online would be the most logical option.  Apparently logic hasn't hit the Korean website yet because while they do have plenty of American tshirts there was not a single one to be found with the "Harley Davidson Korea" sentence he has been jonesing for.  Now after realizing that the little shop was not in our location it was decided that it was time for me to break apart from the group and go on my first solo outing in Korea.

My girls of the day

The ever elusive Daegu Harley Davidson store

Now anyone who knows me,or knows of me, knows that I am one hell of a navigation fuck up.  I end up in different states.  I get lost in my own hometown.  Directions just aren't my forte.  To keep this story as short as possible, just know that the ONE hour bus ride to get to the magical shop of Harley Davidson turned into a SEVEN hour long ordeal.  I went the wrong way on the subway (first time riding it alone), got on the wrong bus (also the first time riding a bus alone), found out it was too late for a bus back to civilization after finally finding the shop and the shirt and eventually got the last train back to Pohang (my first train ride.)

My ticket to Hyeung.  It was only 2,000 W so it should have been a fairly
short trip.  "Should have been" are the key words here.
Notice the newly painted nails!

Clearly it was an interesting day full of wasted time and aggravation but I did it.  All by myself.  Plus, Dad will finally get the shirt that he has been asking for during the past 10 months.  It'll all be worth it to see his eyes light up when I see him open up that present and have him proudly show off  his new Daegu Harley Davidson shirt.  I sure hope I got the size right.  Wouldn't that just be the icing on that crap cupcake of a day if it didn't fit him.

Sunday

I woke up with um...women problems.  Unfortunately, I had to go to a lunch at the house of a student with my coteacher Heather.  We arrive to find a spread of delicious traditional Korean food complete with my favorite side dish, kimchi!  I end up having ridiculous cramps and ask the Mom (we named her Kelly due to our goal of using all of the names from the Saved By The Bell cast) to take me home at her convenience.  She motions the "why?" question and I motion at my stomach and she finally gets it.  She runs out of the room only to come back with an entire bag of pads (big sizeuh she says), female medicine and ANOTHER bag of pads (small sizeuh she says.)  She begins to put blankets on the couch to make me a bed so I can rest. She eventually gets the drift that I need to go home and she prepares a huge bag of sweet potatoes, muffins, medicine and enough pads for the entirety of the female population of Pohang.

Kelly has been deemed our Korean mother and she has filled the role quite nicely.  She feeds us.  No, she literally feeds us. Like snatches up food with chopsticks, says "AHH" and shovels it into our mouths.  She brings us breakfast to school.  She kisses us goodbye and tells us to have a good day.   Everyone always says that you find your Korean Mom when you get to Korea.  It only took me 10 months but I finally found her.  And while she is a good option for a Mom while i'm here, there is no replacing the real thing waiting for me in America.

Nope. There isn't anyone who could replace my 미국 엄마  (America Mommy)