‘We do not write to recapture an experience; we write to come to as close to it as we can’

A note: Dear readers, we do apologize for the delay, but it was much needed on our part, as we began to acclimate ourselves to the new environs of South Korea. We’ve found it surprisingly easy to slide into a basic routine here, and we’ve not yet felt the expected the much dreaded Culture Shock (it could be our trip together to Mexico last year prepared us for this journey; in the last week of that trip the swine flu outbreak was the big news and it was questionable what would happen when we tried to leave the country. As you might've guessed, we made out were fine and didn't experience quarantine jail in Mexico or the U.S.). We’ll keep you posted of course, as events continue to unfold. For now, enjoy these fragments collected over the last week…more to come! 
with much love, j


Yes, we are quite far from you now, unless you are one of our new friends in Korea, and we have a couple already. We consider ourselves lucky to have Roger  and Jo as our tour guides, trainers, and allies during the first couple days here in Mokpo.

Chicagoan & English angels

Yes, the small city keeping us is Mokpo, secret revealed. What we’ve discovered is that our employer is much too busy running our hagwan to care about these scraps of news, bits of memory (see title, courtesy of Norman Mailer). We will hold on to our aliases, partly as tribute to the writer Julio Cortazar, whose ‘Autonauts of the Cosmoroute’ has been influential summer reading.

downtown Mokpo

a kids' park in Mokpo

the other Julio

Can we talk about reading for a second? Traveling overseas, space in your cargo becomes precious. We arrived in Korea with 4 large suitcases, 1 backpack, 1 carry-on mini suitcase, 1 duffel bag, 1 purse. When dealing with this kind of mammoth undertaking (our own personal convoy), does bringing 5 pounds of literature, give or take, signal masochistic behavior? Also, I’m not just inflicting this on myself, but KM, whom I supposedly care for, as well. Why does she have to suffer because I can’t part with a hefty Howard Zinn volume, or a portly Dostoyevsky. Still, I am happy to have a small shelf of books in our studio apartment. There was no choice in the matter. I just wouldn’t feel at home without these friends. In times of great change, books can be solid, calming, just as often stirring ideas and emotions relevant to one’s current itinerant mode.   

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Our first week of work at the English school is complete. It feels good, to work full-time again (I’d previously been working only part-time as the volunteer coordinator at the Olympia Film Society), to have the same hours as K.M., and to assist these kids to learn a language. Sometimes during the week our lack of familiarity with the procedures of the school has felt overwhelming, but the students themselves have actually been our strongest allies. They often, to our great surprise, share when we are supposed to be assigning home work or tests. A few days ago, KM wrapped up a unit with a special class who normally doesn't get homework, so told them there would be no homework except to study for the monthly speaking test next week. She was then deluged with requests for, ’more homework, teacher!’ (How often would we see this work ethic in a typical U.S. school?) Amazed, KM assigned the class some copying exercises and to look at a textbook illustration of a Parisian cafe...and to 'think about it'. Yesterday I had the class next, and we had a great conversation where they shared all the things they had observed about the illustration.

every night, we call some students to chat in English

Roger Teacher w/ pupils

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We arrived in Mokpo about 3 am two Saturdays ago, and, as we expected to be put in a hotel or director’s house while we were being trained, we were happy to learn we would start sleeping in our own apartment that very night. It’s a studio, the first we’ve shared as a couple. Roger claimed it is larger than most studio apartments in the city, which can house families of four, five, or more at times, so I’m considering us lucky. The bedroom area is a low ceiling loft above the kitchen. There is an air conditioner, but it doesn’t seem to reach the loft, and we aren’t ready to pay the exorbitant fan prices quite yet. So I pushed, pulled, and leveraged our bed (really a mattress ) down to the first floor as KM, sleep deprived and exhausted from one of the longest, hottest days in our collective memory, lay passed out on the couch. Now we essentially sleep in the living room, but we’re comfortable.

a bit of clutter at first

Even the nights are humid, evoking childhood southern New Jersey, thus the a.c. is essential. Upstairs in the loft, there is a writing desk and not much else. I try to get in a half hour or more up there with this mini-computer, a very useful item for international travel, borrowed from my mother, but it’s a drag to type on. My fingers are often inadvertently bumping other keys and attempting to dismantle a story or defragment the hard rive or, worse, connect me to the internet. Otherwise, the main function of the loft is to act as the place where we hang and dry our clothes.

lofty goals

We feel lucky to have these quarters, and we’ve already made it a good home. Looking ahead to our first paychecks, we have plans to buy better lighting, floor mats, and some type of curtain to fully separate the loft from the downstairs (and from daylight).

Well, we'll leave you here, dear reader, to contemplate our fate at this junction. Many thanks for your time.

shoes off at the door, please. it is customary.

 prepping our first home-cooked meal, if you think this shot looks phallic, you should see the outtakes