And away we go!

Long story short, I got all my bags, piled them on a baggage cart and wheeled my way towards immigration (again.). I swear, I went through immigration checkpoints three different times. They had to make sure Pookie had all her documents so she wouldn't have to be quarantined (yikes!) for an undisclosed period of time. Through all of this, I had been looking for Mr. Choi, but couldn't find him STILL. At this point, I began to slightly panic because I had absolutely no way to call him if I couldn't find him. So I'd be pretty much screwed. As I went through the last final immigration checkpoint however, there was Mr. Choi holding a sign that said "TRISHA." FINALLY! We shook hands, tried to awkwardly communicate a little bit, then he took control of the cart and off we walked to his car.
Now I wish I had taken some pictures of the airport, but to be honest, it wasn't that special. It was definitely new and had some restaurants, but nothing that is worth mentioning. We walked in the airport a little bit, then we turned to go outside and I thought, "Finally! I can't wait to get into cooler, drier weather. This is going to be awesome. California weather, here I come!" I walked outside and the bright, sunny smile immediately fell off my face. It was HOUSTON ALL OVER AGAIN. Hot, humid, cloudy, sprinkling and gross. I. WAS. PISSED. This was not what I was expecting AT ALL. Ugh.
Anyway, we got into the car for a joyous three hour car ride to Daejeon. I was completely exhausted and stinky, and I was really starting to feel bad for Pookie who had been in her cage for 17 1/2 hours - and that's not including the three hour car ride. Double ugh.
Mr. Choi is really nice but, as I suspected, doesn't speak English very well. As I was trying to not fall asleep, we tried to communicate via one word sentences and a whole lot of hang gesturing. Had I not been so tired, it would have been pretty damn amusing.
Three hours later, we got to my apartment. Yes! Victory! I could let Pookie out so the poor thing could use the restroom; I could shower and GO TO SLEEP! YES! Not so much.
I got out of the car and there stood all the teachers from the school. It was a grand welcome party, but I felt and looked like I had rolled around in dookie for the last 24 hours. I was in no mood to meet and greet, but you gotta do what you gotta do. And I did. Jude, who is the Korean receptionist/caretaker of the school had my bedding. Maria and Jason, the other Korean teachers stood there and smiled at me the whole time. Vincent and Patrick, the native teachers, did their manly duty and brought my extremely heavy suitcases up four flights of stairs. Haha. In my sick, sadistic, exhausted mind, watching them bring up my suitcases filled me with glee. They were panting and sweating (stupid heat and humidity) and had to basically bend over with their hands on their knees after they got to my door. I was in heaven. I JUST WANTED TO SHOWER PEOPLE, give me a break. I felt a LITTLE sympathy, but not much.
I walked into my apartment, then immediately got scolded by Mr. Choi to take off my shoes, so I ran back to the door to take off my shoes, then ran back to the freaking AC so I could get some cold air into my extremely hot and stuffy (but cute) apartment. As I was trying to get Pookie's litter box out of my suitcase, Mr. Choi again scolded me for taking too long because apparently, we were going out to eat! OH JOY! I guess I had to prolong my shower for another two hours. What's another two hours after a build up of germs, grime and airplaneness on my skin?
Anyway, the place we went to eat at was just lovely. (I've been hanging out with way too many Irish people). We had some yummy pork BBQ with soup, rice and yes, Soju. Soju is Korea's staple liquor, made from distilled rice. Mr. Choi poured me four shots, so by the end of the meal, I was feeling pretty giddy. (I couldn't let my boss down by not drinking!). Everyone was super nice, seriously. They all talked to me and asked me questions and acted really interested in my answers. I talked the most to Patrick (who is Irish and well, flamboyant) who promised to take me around to help me get all my stuff. He's a sweetheart. Sam, another Korean teacher, joined us while we were eating dinner. The Koreans have this traditional way of pouring soju, which I think is really cute. The men pour it with their right hand, and while they pour, their left arm is bend across their chest so that their left hand is on their left breast. The girl accepting the soju has to hold it with both hands. It's cute.
Anyway, after dinner Patrick took me to the Family Mart (basically a convenience store) to get some goods like water, liquid yogurt (weird?), cereal and milk. Girl's gotta eat!

Weird yogurt stuff - but actually tasted nice

Finally, finally, I got to shower and open the litter box for poor Pookie who sprinted for it once I opened it. Poor thing. She's amazing.
The next day I had to be at work at 2:00 (crazy Korean work ethic) so I went to sleep immediately after my much anticipated shower (which was amazing). The shower, FYI, is my entire bathroom. EVERYTHING gets soaked when I shower. The sink, counter, toilet, everything. There's no curtain anywhere. It's totally weird, but I don't mind. Just don't keep anything perishable in there!

This is my bathroom and see the cord connected to the sink? Yeah, that's my shower head.

I went to sleep that night quickly, but woke up during the night because my throat was absolutely killing me. I got up the next morning around 11:30 and yup, I was already sick. Damn Korean viruses! Patrick, who lives a floor below me, knocked on my door around 1:15 to tell me that they ordered lunch at the school and we were all invited to eat. Yummy!

The school is literally a four minute walk. And I was DRENCHED in sweat by the time I got there. It. Was. Awful. But we had Pizza Hut to look forward to, so that kept me in high spirits, despite my nasty cold. My duty for the next two weeks was to observe Vincent, the teacher that was leaving the institute September 3rd. So that's what I did all day. I sat in the corner like a child in trouble and watched him teach the cute Korean kids. 

The Korean kids, as previously mentioned, are adorable. They pretty much all wear glasses and if they don't have a prescription, they just wear the frames. The Simpsons is also really popular with them; they have pencil cases and backpacks with Bart or Homer on them. I thought that was hilarious. The kids were all very interested in me and were basically giddy and shy around me. Some ran at the sight of me, others stopped and said hello, others gave me candy (offered, of course, with both hands). They're sweet. 

Getting tired again! I'll write more soooooon!

Finally in Korea!

I'm having this inner battle with myself - do I continue the blog where I left off (AKA at the Korean Embassy) or do I just write about my adventure getting here to Korea? Michael Jackson is telling me that I should probably write about my journey here and forget about the Korean Embassy. Okay, Michael.


So Sunday morning, the morning of my departure, was very stressful. Both of my bags were exactly 70 lbs, which was the cutoff weight, AND I (or my dad) had to pay 100 dollars to get them both on the plane. I definitely packed WAY too much stuff, but oh well. I made it here. As you all know, I decided to take Pookie with me, which added to my stress level. So here's a rundown of all the stuff I had at the airport: two 70lb bags; one cat; one purple wheely carry on; and one huge purse that had my computer, magazines, books, ipod, wallet and binder in it. I checked the two large bags, which was a relief, but going through security was HORRIBLE. My dad said that watching me go through security stressed him out. Since I had Pookie, I had to actually TAKE HER OUT of the kitty kennel and carry her through the machine thing while they put her kennel through the x-ray machine. I also had to take out my laptop, which I already knew I had to do. Once I got through the machine and was at the end of the conveyor belt to gather all my stuff, the woman officer approached me and said, "You have a large electrical appliance that we're going to have to take out of the bag to scan." The "large electrical appliance" was my XBOX, which was located at the very bottom of my bag. So they dug out my XBOX and put that through the x-ray machine and that was that. I had to repack the purple bag quickly because I was running out of time. All this doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but because I was alone and was trying to hurry because there were irate people behind me, I was beyond stressed...and sweaty.
I made it to the plane just as they were boarding. Since I was first class, I got to get on the plane right away. Luckily, the person who was to sit next to me wasn't there yet, so I could take my time and get all my stuff organized and whatnot. The flight to LA was great. I wanted to order a bloody mary, but decided alcohol probably wasn't a great idea. I ordered orange juice instead (without the vodka, mreh) and had a great breakfast that included a cheese omelet, biscuit with jam, fruit, yogurt, ham, sausage and potato gratin. No wonder we Americans have weight problems! Needless to say, I ate everything but the sausage and yogurt. It was good in my belly.
I had originally planned to sleep this portion of the trip, but decided that I should finish reading the book I had (something about Shoe Addicts) so I could just leave it on the plane once I was done with it. That way, I wouldn't have to carry it for the rest of the trip. (The book cost $5.00, so I didn't feel bad in the least).
Anyway, I finished the book about 30 minutes before the plane landed, so I was golden. I left it on the plane, along with my pillow (this wasn't on purpose). I realized I left my pillow about halfway up the gangplank, had this inner battle with myself as to whether I REALLY needed it, decided I definitely needed it, turned around and ran back down the gangplank to get it. I ran into a stewardess (is that what they're still called?) who offered to get it for me, which I gladly accepted. She came back with my pillow and book, which, to her delight, I told her she could have it. (She said she loved shoes). That was my good deed for the day.
The clock started ticking once I got into LAX. I had a two hour layover in LA, but considering that I had to walk to the International Terminal, wait in line at the ticket counter, go BACK through security and find my gate...I realized that two hours wasn't that long. But, after paying $220 for Pookie, a whole lot of sweat at security and $20 worth of magazines and water, I was on the plane headed for Korea.

This is my beautiful plane! The stewardess' were all so cute and elegant. Their outfits were adorable.

This is the best picture I could find on the internet. I didn't want to take a picture of them because I thought that would have been awkward. They had the cutest bows in their hair too. I wanted to take one home with me. Haha. Anyway. The plane was really nice. I actually had leg room and space for my ample hips to move around. Pookie, however, had no room. She didn't even fit underneath the seat in front of me, which I thought would be problematic, but turned out to be okay. I basically just let her have some of my leg room, which was fine because I had plenty to give. On the plane I ate bibimbap, this rice dish with veggies and some spicy sauce. It was okay, not the greatest. I watched two movies on the plane - "Green Zone" and "The Back Up Plan." Both were really good, especially "Green Zone. " I love Matt Damon, sigh...
I'm not going to bore you about anything else on the plane, because it's, well, boring. There really isn't anything significant to mention other than the fact that my cat is an angel and I love her to death. She didn't go the restroom, cry or anything the whole trip. She's perfect!
Getting off the plane was a pain the butt since I had to carry all my crap again. At this point of the trip, I was exhausted, stinky, oily and sweaty. Being on a plane for 12 hours isn't ANYONE'S cup of tea, and I would prefer to never have to do that again...but I'll have to eventually. Dangit. After getting all my crap together, I slowly made my way off the plane directly to the first bathroom, not because I had to use it, but because I desperately needed to apply some deodorant and brush my teeth. Because I had an aisle seat on the plane, I could go to the bathroom as much as I wanted, which, as most of you might have guessed, was a lot. After applying deodorant, I made my way to immigration, where they stamped my passport (YAY!) and then I followed the luggage logo to the baggage claim. I had no idea what my flight number was, which was actually surprising because I'm usually on top of that stuff. But I basically followed where the majority of the people were going and I struck gold. At this point, I was starting to look for Mr. Choi, but couldn't see him yet, so I started looking for my bags.


I'll continue this post in a little bit - have to get ready for work and it's already REALLY long!

A Little Off Topic...

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Okay, people. Because I'm a girl and am constantly battling raging, emotion-inducing hormones, I veered off topic one night because I was going through a hard time. I considered not adding this post to my blog because it's immensely personal and very self-analytical, but I decided to add it because this is who I am and like the slogan for my blog says, "feel free to judge me, but hopefully still love me." It definitely applies to my journey to get to South Korea because part of the reason I'm even moving to South Korea is because I need to really think about my life and what I want to do with it. I need to focus on forgetting (and forgiving) those people that have brought me down, and pursue lasting friendships with those who have always encouraged me and loved me despite my many personality flaws. I enjoyed writing this and am really happy with it.
Anyway, I'm done rationalizing why I'm posting this entry. Enjoy!

I think the three hardest things in life revolve in an ever-continuous, vicious circle: accepting situations that don’t go your way, dealing with it, and moving on. They apply to basically anything that happens in life…a shitty job, an uncaring boyfriend, a self-destructive sister, a narcissistic friend. It has always been my belief that life cannot be lived in the past. But this concept has been what I have struggled with the most. I have…issues, some might say, with moving on; probably because I have problems with accepting situations beyond my control, and since I can’t deal with something I don’t accept, I can’t move on. Indescribable frustration however, continually, or shall I say, viciously, brings me back to the situation that didn’t go my way…and I try to accept it, but I can’t…and well…

You get the point.

My mom’s favorite story to tell strangers at the dinner table was when I would break all the eggs on the kitchen floor in search of boiled eggs. This didn’t happen just once. It happened a multitude of times. You see, I LOVED boiled eggs and if someone wouldn’t give them to me, I would search for them. I was four, okay? At least I knew that they came from eggs! (I think my interest in cooking also stemmed from these incidences.) Anyway, one particular egg-breaking incident is the story my mom always tells to anyone who will listen. One afternoon, my mom came into the kitchen to the smell of old, rotted eggs and there stood my sister with one hand out towards my mom in the “do not pass” gesture and the other hand holding me behind her. She said, “Mom, it’s okay. She only broke four eggs. You don’t have to spank her,” in this very authoritative tone that prompted my mom to only helplessly smile at her. The moral of the story is as follows: from the age of four years old, the seed had been planted that if I didn’t get what I wanted from someone else, I was going to find a way to get it myself.

I have never known what it is to NEED something because I’ve always gotten what I wanted. This flaw, or strength depending on the situation, is a firm aspect of my personality. If my mom, dad, grandma, or whomever, didn’t give me what I wanted, then I would find a way to get it for myself. I’ve never really considered myself spoiled, perhaps I am, or perhaps I’m just “loved” as my grandma has always said, but this aspect of my personality has always held me back from accepting situations that don’t end up the way I wanted them to end.

Until recently, I have never really experienced something that didn’t go my way. And let me tell you, it was probably one of hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. It literally made me want to throw a temper tantrum of epic proportions. And I mean EPIC. I had to fight the urge many, many times to NOT lie on the floor and slam my fists and feet against the ground. I also had to resist stamping my foot in frustration because there was simply nothing I could do to change the outcome.

I don’t know what it means to accept bad situations. I have the urge to FIX things to my liking: people, relationships, whatever. It’s next to impossible for me to just SIT there and do nothing. I can’t let a bad situation happen because I’ve always believed that if you want it bad enough, you’ll make it happen. This theory has been correct, until now. I wanted SO BAD for it to work out. I did everything in my power to make it go my way, but in the end, everything I did was futile. When it comes to situations with other people, things won’t always go your way. I understand that, yes, but I don’t accept it. And this is my problem. How do I accept it? How do I accomplish peace, contentment and, well acceptance? How do I move on from something I don’t accept? You see. It revolves in a vicious circle and it always brings you back to the same questions.

Perhaps forgiveness is my problem. Forgiveness of oneself for allowing a bad situation to happen WAY longer than it should have. Forgiveness of oneself for devaluing yourself to the point where you thought you couldn’t do better. Forgiveness of oneself for putting yourself through constant stress and frustration. Forgiveness of oneself for numbing my hurt with food, sleep and XBOX. Forgiveness of oneself for allowing someone to make you feel devalued, unworthy and unloved. Finally, forgiveness of the person who consistently made you feel devalued, unworthy and unloved. But how do you forgive? I honestly can’t tell you. But all I know is that without it, I can’t accept it. I can’t deal with it. And I most certainly can't move on.

And we’re back to square one.

Now where was I?

So I wasn't planning on writing in my blog tonight, but after dancing to Beat It and Thriller, I got a burst of energy and decided to freaking go for it. I'm laying in bed with my glasses on (that, according to Kit and my dad, make me look like a teacher. Good or bad?) and am in full on blogger mode. There's a lot of preparation that goes into writing one of these things, and a lot of it has to do with being in that spunky, witty mood so that when I write, I don't bore you all to the point of no return. And I say "Point of No Return" as in you not returning to my blog. You didn't put that together? Oh, you did? Man, I miss the Phantom of the Opera. I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah.

After my acceptance email (we're so technologically savvy these days), I had to start getting all my documents together STAT. Pronto. ASAP. If only teaching abroad was as simple as just getting on a plane with WAY too much luggage for one person. Nope. Not that simple. Mr. Choi, the managing director of the school, told me I needed a notarized criminal background check, my diploma (yes, the ACTUAL diploma), two sealed transcripts, health background check, signed contract and four lovely passport photos of yours truly. The majority of the documents were generally not that difficult to acquire, but the background check was a pain in my you-know-what. I basically had to Fed-Ex single pieces of paper every which way across Texas so the right people could give me their John Hancock. Like I said, not that difficult. It was the TIMING that had me worried. As you all know, all of this happened very quickly, which was great because it eliminated all the worrying and nail biting over whether I'd get the job. The downside to this turbo acceptance was that I had to get all my documents together in a VERY short period of time. Long story short, I got all my documents together and sent them off to Mr. Choi so he could give it to the South Korean Consulate for my visa approval number.

One would assume that communication via email is a very frustrating and...helpless form of communication. I say frustrating because you don't know when they'll email you back. And I say helpless, because if they don't email you back...there's not a damn thing you can do about it. I am what some, or most, people would call a worry-wart and an over-analyzer. Mr. Choi isn't generally that...prompt at emailing me back. So, me being me, I immediately start to worry that he changed his mind, he hired too many teachers, he died...I could go on and on. He, of course, eventually emails me back, but not before I sprout a few gray hairs in my recently dyed do.

I HAVE to tell you guys about going to the Korean Consulate here in Houston to get my visa, but I'm simply too tired tonight. It's almost 3 a.m. (he STILL hasn't emailed me back!).