Three

The paperwork is in. I am officially TEFL certified, and Beau and I are officially obligated/allowed to work in the Dae Han Min Gook for one more year. These two years have passed so quickly, and it's a little sad to think that, once again, it's time to say goodbye to some of the people who started this journey with me.

Three years. The realization that I will have lived in Korea made me wonder about the things I miss from home. Every month is gets easier to live here, but there are some things that never stop making me homesick. Especially around Christmas time. Sure, Korea changes every year, and the "holiday" season is noticeably more prominent this time around, but I miss the excitement people and love people exude this time of year back home. Korea may have the kitsch, but it doesn't have the love (well, except in Nampo :). But, we do what we can in our little place.

That being said, Beau and I had an awesome Thanksgiving with the Swarringtons and other amazing, divinely beautiful people who will be missed when they return to the motherland(s) to seek their fortune. And, we're looking forward to a Christmas filled with loving friends, and filled with gratitude that Beau's mom's (my 시엄마) "jasmine" is treatable. We wish we could be there, but we feel better knowing that she's got a great community of friends and neighbors, and is in the very capable and busy hands of my sister-in-law, who basically rocks.

Each day here is a lesson, and I feel blessed to be living a life that includes such deep joy and contentment, as well as curiosity. Merry Christmas, ya'll.

Peaks and Valleys

I love the feeling of being overwhelmed by life's complex surprises. I was looking forward to writing a post about climbing the highest peak in mainland South Korea (5, 564 ft, in case you were wondering). Or about how I always pronounce my Korean vowels wrong (the English equivalent: just think of Brad Pitt in Snatch).

 But this post is really about the peaks and valleys that, like Jiri-san, have filled our lives this month. We both are coming to a point where we feel like building something In Korea. Maybe the next is adventure is creating a home here, despite the temporary nature of our employment. It's like those Buddhist sand paintings that take the monks days to make, only to be finally torn down. Nothing is permanent, so why should we wait to be fulfilled until we find a "home?" Is there really such a thing, or is it possible to carry your contentment around with you, wherever you go? I'm feeling like the answer to that question is yes, and I feel blissed out to have been able to create so many incarnations in this one life of mine, only to tear them down and start over. And, for the first time, I'm looking forward to doing it as many times as possible before taking the final journey that we all must take.

 I guess the thing that's got me thinking about these cycles is finding out that Beau's Mom has lymphoma. She has fantastic chances for recovery, and she's been really positive about it, which will serve her and our family well in the coming months. But I can't help drawing parallels between her illness and my own mother's. Beth's chances are great. My mom's weren't (though she stayed very strong about it). She participated in a test study, to help the doctors try to find a treatment for other people. I'm happy for Beth's possibilities, and the life she can look forward to with our family, the kinds of relationships she'll be able to build with her family, the depth of connection that she can choose to have with her children. And it makes me miss my mom. But, if not for the experience of losing her, I might not realize how precious the time you have is, and I might not understand that pain is a chance to learn. I might not be awake to the cycles of life, and I might take too much for granted. And I wouldn't really understand what Beau's family is going through right now. So, the biggest feeling I have right now is deep gratitude for everything that has brought me to this point, and multitudes of love for Beau and his family.

 So I guess from this perspective, it's hard to distinguish the peaks from the valleys.

Jeju

Jeju was back-breaking, sun-baking, tear-making, and frust-rating. And Worth It. Lugging a 50 lb trailer behind my bike for five days though scorching sun, torrential typhoons, up and down hills and valleys, over small, smooth coastal roads next to aquamarine waters and blackest volcanic rocks, through farms and cities, on designated bike paths and highway shoulders, across bridges and next to piers, with one sore ass, sore knees, and with a nigh near 3rd degree sunburn, was the most physically challenging thing I've ever done. Six months ago I was so out of shape that it would have been impossible. I've never been so proud of myself for finishing anything.

Another lesson: everywhere you go, there's at least one person who is willing to help you in a small but useful way. In Jeju, this help can in the form of an adjoshi (uncle) who oiled our bikes for us after the typhoon.

Yet another lesson: It's possible to sleep just about anywhere in this country for free, provided you bring a tent. No one will say anything.

Next thing: Trekking in Nepal.

Resurrection

In response to a passive-aggressive email request from my great grandmother, I'm resurrecting the ol' blog. Life in Korea has become settled, peaceful. I've grown comfortable in my non-Koreaness, growing more definite boundaries around my self. Korea is growing smaller, less strange. I find myself needing to travel more and more often. I'm feeling the beginnings of a push that will take me elsewhere, and it's about time.