Like A Cat

Sometimes I feel like the universe has it out for me. Its sick sense of humor has landed me in a swine flu quarantine in South Korea, cost me thousands of dollars in at least a dozen driving-related mishaps and forced me into a twice-weekly upper-lip shaving pattern. I keep feeling like it's all karmic payback for the days when my short-girl-complex caused me to taunt the quieter, meeker girls at Braden River Middle School.

Still, like a cat, I always land on my feet - somehow. In my fourth title change in the last eight months, I am now Author Acquisitions Manager for Inkwater Press in Tigard, Oregon. I start on Monday. What do I do? I read manuscripts, decide whether we're willing to publish them, and offer publishing packages to the writers. We help people self-publish, essentially putting into prettily-packaged print their life's masterpieces that range from memoirs to novels to poetry collections. I think I've found a place I can settle for a while for many reasons, not the least of which is my really cool boss. But the job will also be flexible enough that I may be able to explore some things that my TV news schedule would have prohibited: volunteering for Oregon's wine harvest and becoming a yoga instructor (and maybe freelance writing about such things?). The vacation schedule is also very generous, so I'm hoping to return to Florida more often to see my east coast family, most notably my life-affirming niece, Hailey.

As you may know, I sold everything before leaving for Asia. I really thought I would be gone for at least a year, if not longer. That means it will be quite a while before I'm really back on my feet. Coleen is graciously allowing me to live with her through the end of the year, so I can make buying a car my first financial priority. I think she actually likes the company... and I like her shoe and purse collection. We've taken to making dinner together at least once a week - kind of like I asked my ex-hubby to do with me years ago. Not sure why I added that last detail, but I did.

Lastly, as more unsettling news trickles out of the Korean peninsula, I may discover my early departure from the region was actually the universe's way of taking care of me. In that case, my sparse femi-stache won't seem like such a curse.

Finding My Fortune

Lakshmi, Hindu Goddess of Fortune

(I thought I had posted this blog. It was written about a week ago.)

The blog went dormant for a bit, as I sank into a deep hole of self-doubt, uncertainty and anxiety. Yes, the real pressure of being unemployed began to sink in. How much longer would my money last? When does the goodwill of friends run out? Will my resume stand out amongst the hundreds of qualified applicants vying for jobs?

The answer to each remains uncertain. But some time between last Wednesday (when Coleen came home for lunch at noon to find me still sleeping on her couch with a Doritos bag on my chest and crumbs trailing down the same dress I was wearing the day before) and now, I have found relative peace with the situation. A few things happened: 1. I tried new yoga studios; 2. I embraced my fortune in life; 3. I pumped out a mad number of resumes.

1. Yoga: the physical practice of yoga is all well and good (it gives me rockstar shoulder muscles), but it's (and I hesitate to put this in writing) the body, mind and soul connection that makes the practice so life-changing. Truly, life-changing. I found some studios that offered reduced rate classes at special times for those of us on a budget, and now I'm back on my game. My body feels rejuvented and so does my spirit. After three straight days of classes, I suddenly realized that I'm peaceful. I can't nor need to explain why (but here are links to the studios: http://www.thebhaktishop.com/ and http://www.yogashalapdx.com/)

2. Fortune: I've said to a couple of people that I'm richest poor person out there. I'm living in a nice, modern townhome, eating amazing food and drinking good wine. Friends are buying me lunch, making me dinner, and even hooking me up with gas money. Just when I want to crawl into the abyss of self-pity over the string of misfortunes that have peppered the last three years, I have to do a real reality check. No, I didn't think I'd be divorced, jobless and mooching off of friends at the age of 30. But I also didn't realize how much unconditional love I would have in my life either. It is just coming from places I didn't expect.

3. Resumes: Coleen didn't have WiFi in her house when I moved in, so I was retreating to coffee shops for hours on end. Full of lattes and freshly baked muffins, I hawkishly searched for jobs, trying to make my resume among the first to be sent. You see, Oregon has the second highest unemployment rate in the nation (over 12%, behind Michigan), and there are hundreds of people applying for every posting on Craigslist. I was doing my best to not be lost in the shuffle. But then there's self-doubt... am I putting in enough effort? Should I be working harder? Others who've endured periods of joblessness (to remain nameless) have insisted my two-resume-a-day pace was blistering. And hopefully, it's paid off. I have a second interview with a publishing company on Monday. It would be my fourth job in a year, and hopefully the last.

Another reason for my lack of blogging is that the blog needs a new focus. I don't want it to turn into Jessica's online diary. It evolved into that as I traveled through Asia, but I think it worked because I was on such an adventure. Now, I don't want to discount myself - my life is always a wild adventure - but I simply think my blog needs to have focus. First, it was traveling. Now it needs to be something else. I'll need to roll out a new look and new mission, as soon as I decide what that should be.

No Place Like Home

How much has changed since that last posting! It is 3:37am on Sunday at Mike's house in Portland, Oregon. I am back home. I can't sleep. I have no job. I am nearly out of cash and credit.

I bolted from South Korea on Wednesday morning, leaving without notice, as advised by one of the current instructors at my assigned school. She said if I decided to leave, do it in the middle of the night. "The director is not a nice man."

I don't know what that means exactly. I just know I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I also had an unshakable urge to return to Portland. To see familiar faces. To speak English. To start over - again. Yet again.

There have been so many fresh starts in the last three years: divorce. Start over. Quit TV news. Start over. Quit radio advertising sales. Start over. Quit Korea. Start over.

But there also have been some refreshing constants - mostly my friends and family. I am eternally surprised by and grateful for their generosity. For this "start over," Coleen has opened her second bedroom to me indefinitely. Mike is letting me borrow his truck. Elena and Ryan have offered their spare wing if needed. With friends so generous, I wonder why I left to begin with.

Still, no regrets. My Asian invasion - Japan, Guam, Bali and Korea - was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I explored; I wrote; I photographed; I met new people; I learned. Now I know that I want to continue writing - not in the stilted TV news fashion that I had honed over seven years in the broadcast business, but in a way that fulfills my need to be expressive, bold and uncensored.

I will continue my Immersion blog. It will obviously need to be revised to match my environment and my situation in life. Stay tuned. There are always wild twists and turns in Jessica's wacky world - sometimes of my own making, sometimes not.

No Love for the Sex Hotel

I spent eight long days in quarantine. That was eight more days in which I waited for details about where I would be teaching, what kind of schedule I would be working, and what kind of apartment I would be living in. My school's director responded to my inquiry, but didn't answer any of my questions (his English is not very strong). The frustration was building. On top of that, I was desperately missing home while locked up in the government facility. Upon release, I was told that I would be taken to my apartment, so I started psyching myself up again for starting my new life in a new place.

You might be able to imagine my frustration, when - instead of arriving at an apartment - I was dropped off at a seedy hotel. At first I found the surroundings comical - the tacky mood lighting, the big round pleather bed and the karaoke machine. But then I started wandering around the hotel in search of a wireless internet connection and I happened upon a room with a bizarre sex chair. And when I was moved to a room with an internet connection, I no longer had a karaoke machine, but I did gain a sex toy vending machine. Turns out, I'm at a "love hotel," Korean style.

I'm not such a princess that I couldn't stay there. It seemed clean enough (although I didn't have a black light to confirm that). However, it just didn't seem like the kind of place that a reputable business person would place his new employee. I started seriously questioning whether this school was the right one for me. To really understand the situation, you need to have a better understanding of how the school operates. "Corporate" has branch schools, mostly in and around the Seoul area. It also has franchise schools across the rest of the country. Each franchise - like mine - is independently owned and managed. I had read on EFL blogs that the quality of each teacher's experience depends largely on whether they're at a branch or a franchise. And if they're at a franchise, it depends on who's running it. The sex hotel put enough doubt in my mind to send me running.

I was online, preparing to buy my ticket home, when my school's director pounded on my door wondering why I hadn't shown up for orientation with the head instructor. My recruiter apparently hadn't passed on the information that I was going home. I hadn't contacted the director directly because there's too big of a language barrier to communicate all the nuances of my concerns and disappointments. So I continued Skyping with my mother in my room, as the director remained in the foyer, calling my recruiter for an explanation. If I had a list for such things, it would be among the top five most awkard and bizarre moments of my life. I have no idea what was said to the director, but he got off the phone and begged and pleaded for me to stay...at least come by the school to take a look.

I had my heart set on going home. I was ready to see familiar faces in Portland, to communicate effectively in English, and to start searching for yet another career. I didn't even want to be tempted to stay in Korea. But I had come this far, so I might as well visit the school to try to sort things out.

And finally, with the help of the head instructor, I started being able to put the picture together of how my life would be in Korea. I would have my own classroom. I would work 4 1/2 days a week - a total of 32 hours. No weekends. I would have a loft-style apartment that's large compared to those of my colleagues in other parts of the country. And it would be cheaper than I had expected. The rest of my school's teachers would also be living in the same building. It would be a 15 minute walk to school each day. I finally had the answers I'd been asking for.

Reluctantly, I decided to stay. To follow through. To see where this experience takes me. Portland will still be there a year from now. But I don't want to return to Portland as the very same person who left. That was the sole purpose of this trip. I have found myself running from commitment at every turn in the past few years. Not this time though. At least not yet.

Quarantine In Pictures

Passing the time...

... with mattress sledding and movies in a lecture room...

Temperature checks - twice a day

My "dorm" room. It was truly like being back in college.

Freedom! Released from quarantine on Sunday, May 31st...

at 8:15 am...

the former detainees gather on the sidewalk waiting for transportation...

...some celebrating with the confiscasted contraband....

Days 5 & 6: Contemplating Home

(This post was written while in quarantine, but for some reason, I could no longer access my blogger account)

Activities: sleeping, eating, reading, facebooking, skyping, gossiping, gaming, TV viewing. Repeat. Oh – and thinking. Thinking about home. Thinking about friends. Thinking about family. Thinking about love. Thinking. As if I didn’t have an overactive mind to start with, I certainly didn’t need 24-7 freedom to allow my mind to roam. The best thing about all the traveling has been constant entertainment and challenges. It had been so long since I had felt stimulated. But Japan & Bali and teacher training all helped me re-engage my brain in a productive manner.

Now it’s starting to atrophy again. I have so much time on my hands that I find myself doing very little. I could be doing more yoga. I could be reading more. Mostly, I sit here and stew about the life I left behind. I love Portland almost to an unnatural extent. I love my friends. I love Mike.

I already know that I will never have the affection for Korea that I have for the northwest. That’s not why I came here though. I didn’t expect to fall in love with the country and decide to stay forever. I expected to try a new career, discover a difficult culture, and escape bad relationship patterns – essentially challenge myself to grow professionally and personally.

Now I’m seriously pondering the prospect of running back home. I need someone to talk me off the ledge. What would I find? No apartment. No car. No job. No money. No certainty of relationship. I know that. I would still just be running in circles – spinning around the same problems with no resolution. The only reasonable solution is to stay in Korea – fight off the doubts. I’m not always a reasonable person. We’ll see how the next few days go.

Quarantine Day 4: The Age Gap

My roommate is 23 years old. She’s a Korean American from New Jersey. She’s spunky and restless. Sure of herself and smart. Knows the answers, refuses to follow the rules. A singer. A chain smoker. A potential candidate for law school. Hasn’t had a real job yet. I wanted a room to myself, but she spends so little time in here that it hardly matters that we must share space.

Richard is the bald white guy who says very little. He must have been a teacher somewhere before. He’s older – maybe 40 or so. He grabs a chair in the common area on the second floor and reads and reads and reads. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t join the masses in our bitch sessions or our movie groups. He probably doesn’t feel like there are many people to relate to here.

They are the two extremes: there are the recent college grads who adamantly declare their maturity. Then there are the 30+ wanderers who are here because we know that we know nothing. The younger crowd outnumbers the older, but not by a lot. I’ve gotten this reaction a lot: wow, you’re 30? You don’t look like it. I can’t say I know what I should look like at 30.

It’s spiky blonde Andrew’s 30th birthday today. He’s been teaching in Korea for a while with his girlfriend. He didn’t want anyone to know about the big Three-Oh. Someone made him a birthday hat out of masks that read “I’m 30. Kill me.” I couldn’t tell if he was really amused or really wishing everyone would have ignored the day. Andrew has been responsible for calling the American Embassy and imploring them into action. Today a woman - with a suspiciously British accent - from our embassy called my room asking questions about our circumstances, asking if they can call my parents, saying they can do very little to help, saying they can’t even get inside.

So our circumstances: the medical staff wants us to stay in our rooms. We don’t want to. Most of us aren’t sick. Most of us aren’t going to get sick. This is overkill. Our rooms are hot. The internet in the rooms still isn’t working. The older are more willing to comply than the younger, and also more willing to take productive action. Andrew and his girlfriend posted signs around the building, advising quarantine-ees to have their family and friends call the Korean Embassy in Washington, D.C. I emailed the “On Your Side Investigators” at KATU. Investigator Thom Jensen to the rescue. Is the situation that bad? Probably not, but it doesn’t even appear that the public is aware of 50 Americans being quarantined. I think that’s news. I think. It’s hard to tell. When you’re quarantined, it’s easy to believe that you have the biggest problem in the world. I suppose I can understand why people are more concerned about North Korea’s nuclear bomb test. That story is consuming CNN International’s entire A-block. Maybe the media will be contacting me about something far more tragic in this part of the world one day soon? Let’s hope not. At least the embassy is now involved in our cause. The food has improved. A representative from our school was also on site today answering questions about our schedules and money and infectious disease response.

We were about to gather to watch a pirated copy of the new Star Trek movie. Then the doctor ordered us to go to our rooms. The doc is setting new rules and distributing some kind of medicine. I’m here. My roommate stayed put for about 50 seconds. I’m not sure where she is now.

North Korea Steals Our Thunder

Damn that Kim Jung Il. His second apparent nuke test is overshadowing the American swine flu invasion. I've seen small blurbs in the U.S. press about the H1N1 virus here, but nothing about the 57 teachers (mostly Americans) being quarantined. I'm not convinced it's real news (unless they don't get the internet working soon - they're required to provide us good access to the outside world), but our plight certainly won't get any attention if North Korea keeps antagonizing the West.

A link here for the full story: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/26/world/asia/26nuke.html?_r=1&hp

Quarantine Day 3: Collision of Cultures

Our lists of requests seemed small to us: cigarettes for the smokers, alcohol for the drinkers, vegetables for the vegetarians, more meat for the carnivores, board games, DVDs, and anything to pass the time.

Their list of requests seemed too daunting for us: no smoking, no drinking, wear masks, no leaving, no room changes, don’t go outside.

The Korean authorities made rules. The American teachers broke them. The Koreans did what they do best. The Americans did what we do best. This swine-flu forced relationship wasn’t working out.

It’s not clear what straw broke the camel’s back. Was it the room-switching that made it hard to locate people for temperature checks? Was it the mattress-sledding down the staircase? Or was it the drunk guy who got locked out and crashed through the canvas rooftop of a shed?

Late on day three, the gauntlet was dropped. First, there was the room shuffle. Jessica Corey: move out of room 402 to room 412 with two other girls. Then, there was the spraying. Hazmat-suited decontaminators indiscriminately spray rooms with chemical sanitizer – even while people and their electronics are inside (my roommate’s brand new Mac Book is broken). Finally, another room shuffle and new rules. Jessica Corey: move out of 412 back to 402 with one other girl. Everyone: stay in your rooms at all times; sneaking out will add an extra seven days to the quarantine.

This was no longer about containment. This was about putting us in line. These medical authorities have the Korean government behind them. Our group has no one. Our school doesn’t appear to be a factor in any of these decisions any more. The Australian embassy wasn’t even aware its citizens are in quarantine. The American embassy told us to wait until after Memorial Day to log complaints. The Korean-speaking teachers fought a good fight, making a passionate, belligerent argument for rational thinking and compromise. But no one was listening. Not the doctor they argued with on the staircase for 30 minutes. Not the Minister of Health who arrived on site late in the day. Rigid, arbitrary rules for the sake of rules are now in place.

Perhaps, if these rules were set upon our arrival, we might not be ready to start an American-style revolution. I believe a Benjamin Franklin quote is even being tossed around here: "Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." We’re even starting to sing the civil rights anthem, We Shall Overcome. Yes, it is only those who have never faced real oppression in this world who are the first to cry oppression. There are only seven days that they want us to behave, after all. Seven days. My bet: we can’t do it. I can hear the smokers who have climbed out on the rooftop already. It’s only been three hours.

(Side note: the internet is down in our rooms, so I don’t have much access. I have to sneak out to a common area for WiFi. They say a technician is “working on it,” but the Korean-American teachers say don’t believe them. It is not at all unusual for Korean authorities to tell flat-out lies to shut you up. This sucks.)

Groundhog Day in Quarantine

Eight more people from my training group went to the hospital today with swine flu. The good news about that (insert sarcastic tone here) is that the quarantine time re-sets for each new case. So the 7-9 day isolation period starts again today. It could re-start again tomorrow, and so on.

Day 1 highlites: I was called out over the intercom because the workers couldn't find me for a morning temperature check. That's because I had swiped a solo room, and they didn't know it. I talked my way into keeping it, so I'm feeling better about the arrangements - at least for now. Because this quarantine could be going on indefinitey, we may get moved again to another facility. This one is used for EMT training. They'll need it back eventually.

We figured out how to hook up a laptop to the projector screen in the training rooms, so we had a zombie-movie double feature: 28 Days Later & Shaun of the Dead. I did some yoga and tried to sleep, although there was a jackhammer rattling for about eight hours straight today. But the real highlite was watching the NBA Western Conference Finals over Skype with Mike. He turned his camera around and did some commentary for me, while we watched together. Almost like old times. It would have been more fun if it the Blazers were playing, but I appreciated his effort and the quality time.

Get on Skype folks...it's easy and awesome!

I have some great pictures, but I still can't upload them. You can check them out on facebook instead.

Rock Solid Immune System Fights Off Swine Flu

The news that there were no cases of swine flu was misinformation. It's believed that announcement was made to quell fears within our hotel. So yes, swine flu has infiltrated our training group. In the dark of night, we were ushered to a government facility for a 9-day quarantine. I am getting cozy, dormitory-style, with 70 other trainees who were also exposed. However, I fear I may have been exposed more than most. I'm feeling a bit smug about my stellar immune system.

Swine Flu Timeline & My Exposure:

Saturday, May 16, 7:16am: Arrived in South Korea
Sunday, May 17, 6:00pm: Dinner/drinks with 24 CDI trainees, including 4 with swine flu
Monday, May 18, 7:45pm: Dinner with 2 of the swine flu patients
Tuesday, May 19, 11:30am-3:30pm: Study session with first sick girl
Tuesday, May 19, 6:00pm: Counseled sick girl to go to hospital, after our final training session of the day
Wednesday, May 20, 8:10am: Bus ride next to girl involved in second case
Wednesday, May 20, 9:15pm: Study session with her
Thursday, May 21, 7:35am: Breakfast with her
Thursday, May 21: Second girl goes to the hospital
Tuesday-Thursday, 9am-7:30pm: Day-long classes and studying with third girl to go to the hospital
Friday, May 22, 5:35pm: Successful completion of training, sign contract
Friday, May 22, 8:10pm: Return to hotel instead of going to my school, for fear of getting sick
Saturday, May 23, 3:15am: Doctors arrive at hotel to take temperature of all trainees
Saturday, May 23, 5:00am: Interview over my contact with patients, quarantine notice
Saturday, May 23, 11:21am: 2-hour Skype conversation with Mike
Saturday, May 23, 1:30pm: Snuck out of hotel for Starbucks and other provisions
Saturday, May 23, 3:31pm: 90-minute Skype conversation with Mike
Saturday, May 23, 9:11pm: Arrive at government facility with 70 other trainees for 9-day quarantine
Saturday, May 24, 10:30pm: Notice that there are now six cases
Saturday, May 24, 11:10pm: Game of Jenga

The information-sharing has been atrocious. I didn't hear a word about how to handle the quarantine until 3:30pm on Saturday. By that time, I had already snuck out of the hotel to get myself food. Some people didn't eat until 6:00pm, when pizza was delivered. I was able to sneak out since I look quasi-Korean.

I feel fairly confident that I am not sick, despite having a soar throat. The holding facility is institutional but sufficient. However, I'm about at my wit's end with living with other people. I've been dwelling in close quarters for eight weeks now. I was placed with three other girls in the facility, but found an empty room and hijacked it for myself. There's a good chance I'll get moved back. Nonetheless, I had to take the risk.

As for teaching, I was supposed to lead my first class on Monday. No money is coming in, but at least no money is going out either. As with everything else in this process, I don't know what's next. The communication void is excruciating.

(I have some pictures but the internet connection is terrible, so it's not allowing me to upload)

Quarantined!

A quick note before I get moved to a government health center to be quarantined. There was concern that a girl in our training group had swine flu. We were told there was one confirmed case, although I'm now hearing it's not swine flu. Whatever the case, some communicable disease is floating around, and I was in close contact - perhaps closer contact than any of the other trainees - with three of the four people who've gotten sick.

I have a sore throat and mild cough, but I think it's due to the stressful week of training that included a lot of presentations. At first, I was told I would be quarantined for 7-9 days. That might be changing with the news that it's not swine flu.

I believe I'll have internet access at the government isolation center, so I'll keep you posted. This journey gets wilder and wilder!

Cramming Like Crazy

We're nearing the end of day two of training, and it's exhausting. Turns out (for those who were worried) I ended up at a very reputable company in Korea with a high standard for its teachers. Training is where they weed people out. On the upside, the school has a lot of opportunity for advancement in all sorts of areas - marketing, research and development, management. But because I'm cramming harder than I ever did in college, I'm keeping this update brief. I have learned that I'll be teaching the "English Chip" and "Memory English" courses, which are the two most basic levels in this system (the company is a private school with its own methodology and curriculum). And as you can imagine, that means I'll be working with the youngest students - elementary and middle school. Those who know me well will also know that this doesn't come as great news to me. Eeks. Kids. Small ones. Double eeks.

Well, I have all sorts of stories about interesting people and cool places, but I just don't have time to share. Don't be offended if I'm not returning emails or writing much in the next few days, as I prepare to pass my mock teaching evaluation on Friday.

Wish me luck!

Bali in a Nutshell

I had a grand plan for sharing elaborate stories about Bali, but frankly, I'm too beat to carefully craft anything. And since I'm in South Korea now, it feels like I should be talking about what's going on here (bizarre medical exam that included a breast measurement... hmm?).

So here are my quick notes on Bali:

After Kuta, we commissioned our tour guide Henry to move us inland to Ubud. We stopped at his favorite restaurant along the way where we handpicked from seafood bins the most spectacularly fresh feast - whole tuna, whole white snapper, blue crab, prawns, and giant prawns. It was a ridiculously decadent feast that would have cost well over $200 in the States, and it totaled to less than $100 for four of us. At the dinner table overlooking the Indian Ocean, Henry - a 38-year-old bachelor - shared a sob story about his long lost love from college. She's an heiress to a Balinese family fortune, and her parents didn't want her marrying a commoner. They gave Henry two options: take cash to move out of her home or get arrested. He left, and he's still searching for love. He seems to think he may have found it, since he awkwardly professed his affection for me as we wrapped up our meal. He promised to follow me to the U.S. or to Korea, but I fear he's really in search of a green card. Whatever the case, I'll pass.

As for Ubud, I simply didn't have enough time there. I'm absolutely in love with the place - the shopping, the art, the cafes, and the yoga... finally, yoga! Ubud has a large ex-pat community that's into very new-agey kind of philosophy and spirituality. I'm not sure I could hang with this overgrown hippy crowd for the long term, but I sure could have stayed there for weeks doing yoga. We found a cool place called Yoga Barn. The practice space was an open-air studio on the second floor and it was surrounded by rice paddies. During an evening yin yoga class, we could hear all the tropical animal life buzzing around us. We returned the next morning for a vinyasa flow class, which I had been craving since leaving Portland. I wanted to go to every class on the schedule, but we also had to fit in some tanning time at our hotel pool overlooking (what else?) a rice paddy.

Lastly, I should say this about Bali: the people are among the most warm and friendly I've encountered yet. It was a nice contrast to Japan's stiff and emotion-free society. I was regularly mistaken for being Balinese, which was okay with me because I felt I could relate to the island culture... it reminded me very much of my Jamaican family - the welcoming and generous spirit, the uninhibited humor (one of the hotel staff slapped my rear-end at one point), and the stress-free/time unsensitive approach to life. There was one thing I found a bit unsettling. Next to zero native Balinese people were dining at any of the restaurants we visited. Prices that seem dirt cheap to us (big meals for $2-$4) are apparently out of their price range. I can't articulate exactly why it made me so uncomfortable to eat alongside westerners only. But there's something strange about taking advantage of this inexpensive version of the "good life," when the natives themselves cannot. That is not something you encounter in Japan.

Having said that, Bali is a very special place indeed. And I truly hope to return again very soon.

I'm having trouble uploading pictures, so I'll post them separately at a later date because I need to study for my grammar/reading exam tomorrow.

In South Korea and Trying to "Adapt"

Just a quick note to let you know that I've arrived in South Korea. As I have come to expect with Malaysia Airlines, there were bumps on the way. This time, my carry-on luggage was too large (even though it was the exact same size as when I arrived in Bali), so I was forced to check it and pay $170 for excess baggage. Then, upon disembarkation in Korea, half of my luggage didn't even make it. It's supposedly somewhere in transit between Kuala Lumpur and Seoul. Sigh.

So I'm starting to a hit a travel-weary wall. I knew it would happen some time, and it's coming on strongly now that I'm in yet another city where another 10-million people barely speak English. The struggles are both mind-boggling and amusing. Let me give you an example: South Korea has different power outlets than the U.S., so I asked the clerk at the hotel's front desk where to find a power adapter. In broken English, he explained that I exit some side door, hang a right (or maybe it was a left?), then walk 10 meters (or was that 10 minutes?), and I would find a store called "Morning Glory" (I think that's what he called it?) where I could purchase an adaptor. My Aussie roommate Amy and I wandered for a good half hour in a late spring monsoon before stopping for lunch in frustration (where, in similar language-barrier defeat, we simply ordered "rice" for me and "noodles" for her). We returned to the hotel to ask for adaptor directions again, and this time, the same clerk - that very same clerk who sent us out in the pouring rain - pulled an adaptor from a drawer right behind the counter and said I could buy it for 10,000 won (less than $10).

Huh?