The New Homestay Dog

It's probably not too fair to write too much about my homestay family, but I have no problems writing about the big white rat they call Tenny, their maltese.

Sure...at times his face may be cute, but I don't care much for him when I am forced to give him the last bite of my fudgesical.

Everyone knows the last bite of a fudgesical or anything chocolate, yummy, or desert is the best bite. Apparently my host-mother is not aware of this. Or maybe she is, but thinks the dog is more deserving.

We are all sitting on the couch. Everyone has enjoyed their ice cream (the host siblings, the mom, or I will take turns bringing a bag of six bars home) and I am the last to finish mine.

Host Mom: "Jackie-ya~~ when you're almost done, don't finish it. Just give it to me so I can give it to Tenny, ok?"

Me: (mortified and scrounging my brain for an answer)"Ummm...well, chocolate is actually very bad for dogs."

HM: "Really? Well, he eats chocolate so well all the time!"

Host Sister: "It's true, mom. They will die early."

HM: (with lots of dramatics and flailing of the head and arms) "Oh no! Our Tenny can not die early or I will just die myself! No, no, no! Don't give him any!"

Me...very happy and satisfied, secretly thanking God for my host sister, kept on eating my fudgesical.

My guard was down, it was the last bite, my mouth was going for last bit of dripping, cool, cholatey-ness and a hand comes SWOOPING in on my stick and next thing I know, the dog-size rat is licking up the chocolate and chomping on the wood.

A very good example of the strange dynamics in the house. Take it for what you will. Ok, so it wasn't as much about the dog, but there isn't much to be said for a dog that hits you to remind you to feed him. I don't feed him table scraps except for when I can no longer take the whining from the rat-dog's mom, "Te~~nny~! Is Ja~~ckie being mean to you? She's not feeding you fo~~od?" Yeah...and he growls at me when I come in the door and then sits on my lap when no one's home. I think he knows I see through his tricks and that I think he's just white stuff compared to our yorkies at home!!

Tenny the Maltese, my nemesis...his silent begging brings on the whining that will eventually drive me out of the house.

Worldcup Nationalism, er, Fever

Kristofer mentioned the other day, "Damn, the Koreans are the loudest fans!"

That was in reference to the World Cup games. If you've been watching any maybe you noticed the the red T-shirts, cymbol-like instruments, and constant cheer of "Dae~~ Han Min Kook!!" clap-clap, clap-clap, clap (always only 5 claps). A few songs are usually thrown in, too.

Today some of my co-teachers asked what I thought about the over one million people gathering in front of City Hall in Seoul (the picture beside) as well as the other additional 6 million Korean fans across the globe. I haven't actually thought about it too much. Said it was interesting, and perhaps borderline scary.

Man with a "sogo" (hand held drum)

Not actually scary, just...perhaps borderline. I mostly see it as the school spirit our colleges would love for us to have, but it's completely different because this is motivated by nationalism.

Ok, well, I don't think the gatherings mean Korea is on the verge of blind, fanatic, devotion worthy of backing any dictator...unless that dictator would turn out to be Park Ji Sung. That's not to be worried about since he'll be returning back to Manchester when this business is over. Besides, until last night when he tied --and saved every Korean fans' heart from cardiac arrest-- the score with France, Koreans were beginning to forget their golden, "Three-lunged" boy. Anyway, the million people gatherings of devils in short skirts and red painted families have become a tourist attraction for 3,000 (or some large number beginning with 3, I can to higher numbers in Korean) tourists from South East Asia.

Waiting for the City Hall party to begin

Still, I doubt there is a World Cup movement like this in any other country or for any other team, and that is because of the nationalism feeding and binding the Korean fan base.

I attribute it to the (fairly) homogenous culture. Before I came, I didn't think I would be saying that, but it's partly true. Please show me another country in which all its people speak the same language and dialect, minus some minor differences in accents and slang; share the same cultural/indigenous music; and know the same historical songs which are adapted for chanting and cheers. The pop culture is also uniform throughout this small country (which is about 2/3 the size of New York State).

Go Red Devils

My co-teacher also wanted me to keep in mind that Korea is not used to such large-scale, world-wide success and luck. For Koreans, their name is doing doing its job: Dae Han Min Kook translates into "Big Country of Han People". Or as my co-teacher extrapolated for me, it's a small country with a big name so that it may be a Big Country. Doing so well in the world's sport is a manifestation of Korea's somang --hope.

**pictures taken from Han Kyeo Rae newspaper online from their "World Cup Cafe"

Strike Two

A bubbly voice.

"Well, I can't come to tha phone right now, so leave a message, k??!"

That's what I got when I tried to call the second number I searched on the internet for in hopes of finding the long lost sister.

Everyone knows I have two sisters and a brother. There is also another sister and brother I never mention because they are my father's kids who have pretty much written me off and have never been around for me. So why give them the same titles I give to my other siblings who have put a lot of work into me. hmmm...

Anyway, this sister has helped in the past, but marginally. Thing is, we haven't been in touch for almost 6 or 7 years, and she probably knows where my aunts in Korea are and at least my father's birthplace.

In Korea, apparently if you know someone's birthplace and name, you can find them and they're family. This is a wonder to me since my family is so mysterious and our history seems to continue to alude us kids (my other brother and sisters have their own inquiries about our family history).

So...yes, Strike One was when I tracked down my "sister's" old pastor in Bedford, Massachusetts to ask him for my sister's phone number. That number was disconnected. Then through google phone search I found another person of the same name in a nearby area...but then I got the bubbly girl voice.

So...39 days left in Korea and still no actual "blood family."