To my non-existent bloggers

To my non-existent bloggers:
I am abandoning this blog soon dahil nahihirapan akong gamitin ang "Read More" function. I am very happy to say that I'm relocating here.
Salamat. :-)

Trip to KyungJoo: Spring Paradise

The room temperature that morning was already enough sign of the temperature of the day ahead of us: freezing cold, the thickness of our blanket not enough to block the cold. But not even the unwanted temperature could dampen our excitement:

Adventure---here we come!

My husband and I are headed to KyungJoo, a city south of Seoul brimming with just-bloomed cherry blossoms painting the whole city pink and white. The people on the bus exchange cheerful exclamations at the events ahead of us. Being in a foreign land has already allowed me to learn a special skill which many seasoned foreigners most likely already know of here in Seoul: when at half past six in the morning the bus is so full that they needed two buses to accommodate everyone and the voices are turned on to an extra higher pitch than usual (which makes sleeping an impossible option), then waking up so early in the morning to be greeted by icy touches may have been worth the trouble after all.

Names are called; hands raised. Soon enough, the already high-enough pitches gets a bit higher as giggles are exchanged at a faster rate.

Greetings fly: the guide greets the housewives; the housewives greet each other; the guide greets some men (fewer than the fingers on one's hand); the guide asks us to greet the driver; we greet the driver; the driver waves; greet, greet, greet, until finally free breakfast is served which my husband declines. He asks me if I'm really going to eat the food after the heavy breakfast we'd just had. I answered: "I don't wanna waste food."

Half an hour later, the bus almost out of the city, I look out, listening to the wheels as they spin beneath the weight of maybe forty to fifty adults. My husband and I close our eyes and dream away the three-hour travel.

We finally arrive at our lunch spot; a quaint collection of restaurants sitting side by side to form a huge square. We were one of the last ones to leave the bus (we had sat at the back row, and of course had to let everybody else exit first) and ended up being the last to finish our meal as well. Soon as we do though, we quickly exit the restaurant step out into the sunshine to discover that A. it was freaking windy (my husband had to give me one of his long-sleeved shirts) and that B. we really have a freakin' awesome world. (The CNN commericial "Wonderful World" comes to mind.)

We walk out and see the whole park surrounded by pink cherry blossoms---something I've never seen in so much abundance before. It reminds me of those Korean and Japanese movies, where lovers always met up and the dramatic scene made even more dramatic with the falling of the petals around the lovers. The sky was high up in the sky, the wind was blowing quite fiercely, and pink trees danced right in front of our eyes. I couldn't let go of the camera at first; the beauty was just too astounding.

Just then, the dumbest thing happens: not enough battery! I stare at the "almost empty" sign on the camera monitor and calmly asked my husband for the extra battery, which my brother-in-law had supposedly recharged.

Guess not.

Sigh, sigh. Still, that trip was one of the most memorable trips I've had in Seoul. And it just goes to show that no matter how chilly the day starts, it's how the day ends that matters.

A Good Day. :-)

Today was a really good day.
I woke up early just to fall asleep again; I woke up and saw that I still had lots of hours before I had to leave for work, and so I slept again; the same thing happened twice more, until I realized that I had been fooling myself all along and actually, I had slept through practically all of my cramming time already.
I habitually cram; it's like a disease that refuses to leave me no matter how much I wish to go against it. The mind often wins, reminding me that sleep is more important than any work that I do. Today I crammed once more, bitter at cramming in fact, but nonetheless was able to finish most of the work that I was supposed to do.
That is the main reason why today was such a b-eau-ti-fuuul day. Truly, the day was full of beauty.
I crammed non-stop for about two hours, and eventually finished the vocabulary words, the pictures, the numerous items I had to finish. I had lunch, left for work, passing by the most beautiful sakura trees I had ever seen in my life. They lined the streets in beautiful small pink explosions above naked branches. I loved it.
I finally finished reading the book that I'd been cramming, Let the Great World Spin, and also got to school earlier than expected. I was able to finish all of the things that I had to do, and I was silently praising myself for not being stupid enough to wear a tight skirt again (which made me focus more on the skirt rather than on the students. Stupid, stupid, will never make the same mistake again.)
We started the classes with a game, and the kids all loved it. We zoomed through all of the lessons and the things that we had to do, and everyone went home smiling.
I repeat. I love this day.
I took the subway home and later on found out that it was raining. Thank God I hadn't forgotten my plastic folder (which I tend to forget once in a while) and I used it to cover my head as I made my way back home.
I studied some Korean, saw the messages on my facebook (but I didn't know what to say!) so left them hanging for a while. My husband and I enjoyed ourselves for a while and then I came back to my darling laptop.
All's well that ends well. I'd like to end this with a poem that I heard from the movie The Blind Side:

The Charge Of The Light Brigade
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Memorializing Events in the Battle of Balaclava, October 25, 1854
Written 1854


Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

This has nothing to do with my day, but I like this poem because it got Michael Oher a high grade, high enough to pass his class and get a scholarship at the University of Minnesota. :-)

Today I ran.

Today, I ran.
It's been so long since I've run. I didn't run far; I just ran around the track surrounding both the basketball court and the soccer field nineteen times, and then on the twentieth time decided to walk. (The soccer fields were quite small, the size of two full-sized basketball courts combined.)
The decision to run was quite impulsive, actually; I knew that I had to finish some papers for work (which are still waiting to be finished) and the stress just made me say the words to my husband, who was then on the phone: I'm going running.
The decision surprised him, because it's not the first time that I'd said that I'd go running (and not push through with it). He must have seen that I was serious because he just smiled and said, "Sure. But is it okay if I walk?"
The park was empty, save for a few lovebirds and a few die-hard athletes (I saw a boy who practically cried when he couldn't kick the soccer ball properly; when they left, an old man took over their field and began using the grounds as his personal golf zone) still enjoying the peace the night brought. My husband later on changed his mind and decided to play ball instead. He waited for his cousin to join him, and I walked over to the track.
The track was quite big; I only ran on a smaller part of it. It has been long since I've set foot on a track with the purpose of running, since I left the Philippines for China years ago. There were those rare occasions when I ran, but, like I said, they were quite rare. Realizing that made me even sadder than I had already been.
Before I knew it, my legs were moving.
My feet came alive; neither foot allowed gave the other a chance to stay ahead for long, and next thing I knew I had closed my eyes and enjoyed the music that had begun enveloping my thoughts. Everything suddenly disappeared; all that was left were the sounds and sights around me.
It is a wonderful feeling when you suddenly stop thinking and you just start enjoying the simple things that you have unknowingly forgotten. That's the troubling thing about stress; you focus on something and forget how easy it is to be happy, how easy it is to smile and abandon the world and laugh and cry and sleep soundly without dreams of children becoming dumber under your watch. You constantly remember how busy you ought to be, and then the loud footsteps on the lined path, the flowers arranged almost flawlessly on the almost-naked trees, the quick pulsing of the heart and the simple joys of running become a waste of time, and you are once again buried under your own rubble.
Stiff arms swung; knees bent; legs stretched; the front of the feet raised; the back of the feet first to land; slow breathing; eyes in front; thoughts drowned in music provided by the Ipod touch.
I will have to admit that my writing has begun to suck nowadays, so I can't fully explain how great it felt to finally feel that pulse again beating under your skin. The darkness is still in front of me, and so are the soft lights released by nearby lamp posts. It almost feels like a scene in a movie, wherein every action and sound becomes a little bit more emphasized, and it makes one realize how beautiful the world really is, if we'd only choose to drown ourselves in it.
So today, I ran.
And, I realize now, it was the best thing I did this week.

Wishing I were better

Envy. This is what I'm feeling right now.
Sue me. But I can't help but envy every single person of every single blog that I've read so far. I envy the way they are able to play with words, command them with such skill and versatility. I wish to be like them; I've in fact, regretted those days when I chose to play instead of to write, to learn more, to explore whatever ability I had, if I had any.
The least I could have done then was to have tried much harder, instead of just cramming projects simply because I knew that my teachers would have let me passed, anyway.
Crap. Regrets come later on in life; but what's the use of even thinking about these regrets?
Tasks at hand:
1. Finish my "home" work.
2. Finish reading my book.
3. Finish studying Korean.
4. Write.

It seems to me though, that writing isn't as easy as it was a long time ago. Nowadays every word that I type is under careful scrutiny, and it more often ends up deleted as soon as it is typed (as this whole paragraph has just experienced.)

Argh. It's time to stop complaining and start stepping forward. Let's do this.

Following God

For the first time last week I attended a service at the All Nations Church near Taepyong Station. There were only two nationalities present: Koreans and Filipinos. I was quite excited because it was my first time to attend an English service in Korea (the services that I've been attending have all been in Korean since my husband and his mom attends a Korean church, and so even though I've been attending Church for almost every Sunday since I arrived, I can't say that I've actually learned anything from those meetings.)

We had gotten to the Church just in time; Pastor Ansel was about to begin his speech. He began the service by welcoming all of those who were present, including my husband and myself. He welcomed us, the newcomers to this Filipino-Korean church, to which the crowd responded to with a round of applause.
Pastor Ansel talked about about the story of how Jesus' followers watched as Jesus, the man who called Himself Son of God, and Barabas, the criminal who had plundered and murdered and was obviously far worse a criminal than Jesus Christ was, was put side by side and judged in front of a restless crowd. Pontius Pilate asked the crowd who they’d rather set free, and the crowd roared Barabas’ name.

During all this, Jesus’ followers watched in silence; I bet even Pontius Pilate was surprised at this reaction. He put a murderer alongside a man who had no faults at all but to claim that He was the Son of God. In the end though, he had no choice though but to let these people have what they wanted; he set Barabas free.

Believers or not, those who loved God fell silent in front of men.

This also reminds me of the story of Peter, who denied Jesus thrice before the rooster woke the world. It is ironic how we call ourselves Christians and yet either keep silent or deny God entirely in situations like these. I’m not saying I’m any better than all of these people; on the contrary, I might even be far worse. So I can’t help but admire those who still follow God, even though their weekly visits to the church might become disastrous for them. I’ve met some; and these people, for all of their sacrifices, are most probably the best examples of Christians I’ve ever met.

Last day of the week and yet I hate it so.

Ponyetaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Just happy that this day's over and done with.

On my Birthday

On my birthday, April 07, I did the following:

I waited until the clock ticked midnight before I let my mother leave Skype; I listened to my husband as he told me about the empty circle that was growing on his head, and I went to sleep because I had to work later on.

I woke up at around 10 AM, smiled at what could have been considered impossible years before---that at 25, I would be celebrating my birthday as a wife. I wanted to stay in some more, but the piling tasks forced me to rise; laziness soon embraced me once more and I felt the bed calling out to me. Temptation won; I ended up rising again another hour later to the disappointment(?) of my husband, the boy who was, before he married, always on time.

I had a wonderful lunch with my in-laws. They're such wonderful folks.

I went to work, and one of my kids gave me her homework. "Happy birthday! Here's your gift," she laughed. I laughed too. "Thank you for remembering." I waited as she looked up, bright and wide-eyed, her surprise emphasized the Chinese-like ends of her eyes; "really teacher? Is it your birthday?" And as expected, the children began whispering "really? is it true" then looking back at me.

They left saying, "We'll give you a gift on Friday! Happy birthday!"

Later on, my boss forgot about my birthday and gave me lots of homework. Soon as the class was done she asked me to read a book (with I don't know how many children's stories) and also to give her a grammar syllabus by tomorrow, neither of them accomplished because I'm cramming a book that we'll be talking about at our book club meeting on Sunday.

I arrived home at around 9PM and had dinner with movie with my husband. Soon afterwards we just talked, and then I began reading my book and checking my fb for any updates. Then, a movie was played again, and I headed once more to the living room. When I returned to my computer my birthday was almost over, and it just made me miss my happiest birthday of all, in 2008 with my China friends, when I still ruled my world.

Random Thoughts in a Friend's Cafe

I'm currently in a friend's cafe, spending seconds typing on my laptop, seconds that are better off used preparing for my class tomorrow or finish reading the book (Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann) for our Book Club meeting this Sunday.

I've decided to read the book the way literary geniuses read the books they read, and that's by analyzing the book from page to page. The problem with this is that I have absolutely no idea how to do it properly; it's my fault, actually. Even though I was a literature student some years ago during a period when I considered myself quite young, I never actually paid that much attention in class and so now I'm beginning from scratch.

Hours after I began, I'm still on page 6.

This is beginning to suck, and my head is spinning so fast that I'm beginning to feel that the title of the book is referring to my brain.

Now, back to the book. It's a great read though; too much analyzing is what's killing it for me.

[---]

The Third of April:

In a bar, she is half-drunk; the beer has almost taken over, and before she allows herself to be completely drunk she decides to focus her remaining strength on enlarging her eyes and focus on one particular thing; she refuses to be drunk, and so long as she had the power to do something, she would not be seen as a drunk.

Her eyes fall on the different shades of redness on the faces of her companions from chapped lips to soft lips; from dry lips to wet lips, she observes the speed with which they move. She observes the white divides that appear on those whose laughs were loudest; she observes the gloss over puckered lips. Once in a while she would observe a new set of lips and discover that she was not the only one trying to keep sober; other pairs of lips would flap non-stop like the hated pigeons on the street.

She was not drunk; otherwise she would not have been able to observe so intelligently.

Drunks, after all, fall to the ground and barf their insides out. She, on the other hand, was not drunk, but not quite sober, either. Fortunately though she believed that alcohol in itself is a godsend; with alcohol men are taught to focus, because all other emotions are either recognized are pushed away entirely.

She stares some more, and her eyes fall upon the most beautiful pair of red in the crowd.

Seconds after hearing quick muttering, a slap wakes her, and she realizes that someone is laughing at her. She blinks and jumps up; she had fallen asleep with eyes wide open. Embarrassed, she excuses her drunken self to go home. Everyone agrees, and they greet her a happy birthday.

She smiles. Thank you, she answers them. As she leaves the bar and heads for home, she realizes that she doesn't even know their names.

So-called Chinese Restaurants in Seoul

I haven't been to that many Chinese restaurants in Seoul, but because of my craving for Chinese food my husband has been taking me to several places that serve both authentic and (Koreanized-)Chinese food. I've noticed though a huge difference between these two kinds of places that I've been to that some may find helpful one day. The price ranges for these authentic Chinese restaurants are affordable or freakin' absolutely expensive. On the other hand, the price range of (Koreanized-)Chinese restaurants are in the middle. So more often than not, my husband and I (often with a friend or two of his) head to the nearest affordable authentic Chinese restaurant that we know of.

I haven't seen any expensive authentic Chinese restaurants. So far, the only Chinese restaurants we've actually visited are those within the middle and low price range. When you visit these kinds of restaurants though you'll be surprised at the huge difference. The cheaper Chinese restaurants don't look Chinese at all---the thing that's so Chinese about them is their food, usually nothing else. (Koreanized-)Chinese restaurants, on the other hand, looks Chinese inside-out. One example is China Factory, a restaurant we had just gone to for lunch today. Guarding its entrance were two huge terra-cotta warriors made of gray stone and the theme was white and red. There were wines displayed everywhere and a huge bottle made of stone displayed in the middle of another section of the restaurant. There was a dimsum area (it's been months since I've had dimsum in a restaurant!) and many of the dishes seemed Chinese, too. But as soon as the food arrived it was easy to see how un-chinese these chinese food had become. The taste made it even more obvious, some of the sauces so Korean. I couldn't help but miss Chinese food afterwards.

It's not a bad thing, though. These kinds of restaurants are already expected to have these kinds of food simply because the market demands it. The mention of Chinese food triggers oily, unhealthy dishes. Of course not all Chinese dishes are like this, but it's very hard to convince people of that. So in order to maintain their businesses medium-sized restaurants have transformed their supposedly-Chinese dishes into a more local flavor.

Arrr, Chinese. It makes me miss my mother's cooking.. a lot.