Sometimes I wonder if these kids are getting it

During a conversation test:

Me: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

(45-second pause)

Student, who is around 10 years old mind you: "Clock."

Me: "Clock?"

Student: "...Apple?"

The other teacher in the room looks horrified and stares at me, as if, in being a native speaker, I can mind-meld with this student and tell her the error of her ways.

Me: "Write it down. She wants to be a clock-apple. Next question."

Not unlike a good cheese

One of the more terrifying aspects of my stay in Korea this far must be the level of stress. Like, I understand that being in a place where one doesn't speak the language, doesn't really know a whole lot of folks, and being surrounded by six-year-olds to be wrangled all day would tend to raise blood pressure a little bit.

But it's kind of freaky that I'm getting wrinkles. Real-life ones, out of nowhere, kinda suddenly. First, they spread across my forehead like those neat-looking streaks on sand dunes, except I suppose not-so-neat-looking in this case. Also, it was revealed yesterday that I have crows' feet. Being intoxicated at the time, I didn't believe such hogwash, but a quick peek in the mirror revealed WHAT WHY AM I OLD OVERNIGHT.

Now, I suppose I could start flipping out, applying makeup and eyeliner and dressing to distract attention from my face (like that'd ever happen in the first place, here), but I am still just marveling at it. There was some tough stuff going on back home that I didn't react physically to, but I'm being defeated by elementary school kids? Dayumn. gg, Kinder Liebe.

Complete genius.

Something which I have learned very recently, which makes me think sometimes Korea really has it right: Every cell phone here uses the same exact charger and the same exact plug. As in, say you are out in Seoul for the night and your phone is dying, but oh crap, your charger is back in Busan or something, you can just borrow your friend's charger. It is that easy. INCREDIBLE.

The Quotable Lucy H.

"Odeng (fish cake) is people!"

"You are happy because I am very quiet, very listening, and so well at English, too!"

"Don't talk so big!"

"Teacher, what is 'for the love of all that is good in the world'?"

"I am sad, because Kevin B said I am poop, but I am not poop."

"I am very very fun!"

Cherry Blossoms continued

So, I saw a really dumb movie today, entitled something like 'Kirschbluten - Hanami', or 'Saranghue, um, uh....' because the lady at the ticket counter didn't know the romanized version of the title that was all over the theater, and I couldn't read the Korean title fast enough while the showtime info scrolled. The poster:
Anyway, I kind of figured that it'd be a nice language test for me, as it is largely in German with a little English and Japanese sprinkled in for good measure. Unfortunately, the print has apparently been touring the country for 30 years now, with an image that kept jumping around, moving in and out of focus, and a soundtrack that was garbled and bass-y. I still managed to get most of it, I think.

The thrilling plot: There is an old German couple, and the dude is dying. They go to visit their grown kids, who are all douches. The lesbian lover of their daughter is the only non-douche, who takes the old German wife to a mysterious Japanese dance called 'butoh'. So, then the wife dies for some reason. The old husband wigs out and goes to Japan to visit his son, who has a swank place in Shinjuku with a Sharp TV (what!), hentai comics, and lots of isolation. Surprise, Japan is scary and weird if you're foreign! The old German guy ends up in Kabuki-cho at a soapland, lathered up by two horse-faced Japanese prostitutes, until he cries. He is kinda sad, and his son is also a jerk, so he wanders around wearing his wife's clothing and being generally bizzarre. Then one day, he meets a chick who is pretty much Bjork, and they talk about nonsensical things in broken English. Also, they butoh-dance together. Bjork and the old guy go to Mt. Fuji, where the old guy butoh-dances with his dead wife, and then he dies, too. Roll credits.

I really wanted to like this movie. Really, I did. It was supposed to be pretty okay, if critics are to be believed. But it suffered from the curse known as 'being helmed by a female director', and also it appeared to be shot in HDV or something. It was very 'Lost in Translation'-esque, and I am wondering if being in Korea for awhile has made me less tolerant of Western stories which make the East seem so mysterious, impenetrable and magical. Or perhaps it is just Doris Doerrie being a crap direktorin.

USA USA USA

Conversation class, dateline: today --

Female student: "I hate the little flowers on the trees."
Me: "The cherry blossoms?"
Female student: "Yes, the little white flowers. They are blooming now."
Me: "What? Why do you hate them? Allergies...?"
Female student: "Because they are Japanese flowers."
Me: "What..."
Female student: "I took one off the tree..." (makes an exaggerated plucking motion) "...I take it home, and I crush it. I don't like."

....Seriously, what.

Springtime hits Korea

The best thing about Korea is the great comparison of things both 'yes'-inducing and 'hell no'-inducing, side-by-side. For instance, I found myself in Seoul on Saturday, with really naught to do but wander around Seoul Station, where there are some bums, some large buildings, some street vendors, and a palace or two. Seeing that it cost a measly 1,000 to enter, I chose one of the palaces, D-somethingorother. And it was lovely to wander the grounds, have faces made at me by some Southeast Asian tourists, and take in the cherry blossoms. Typical moseyings. I enjoyed also the hastily tacked on Western-style garden and fountain, added a little under a century ago. It seemed as though the ruler at the time decided that causasian folk were pretty cool, so he built four weirdly-proportioned otter/seal hybrids, looking angry and spouting water into a bright blue pool. The garden consisted of some grass and a shrub. Pretty good.

Also, nothing says 'springtime' like the fresh blooms on a cherry blossom tree, covered in the yellow dust of international pollution. Now I wanna see some oil-slick-covered penguins mate, or similar.