A day out in the culture. Unusual for me as I have carefully planned routines that minimize random interaction. Weird how ruts are dug and fortified. Anyway, today was the first day of my learning the Korean traditional tea ceremony. My teacher’s house is in an area that is not easy for me to reach; I need to learn new bus routes. I was running late too. Frantic, I hurried about not anticipating or practicing mentally the possible interactions and how to handle them. Stopped at the flower shop to buy roses. Spat out various Korean words and phrases, looking confused when appropriate. Took forever, those flowers. They looked beautiful, but the ameliorating process is too time consuming. Big bouquet of flowers, crowding my arms. Out of breath, running first underground then back up on the other side of the street. Please, oh please let there be a cab willing to pick up a foreign woman with a bulging flower arrangement. Two cabs competed for my attention. Blurted out the destination, stuttering and mispronouncing because I hadn’t practiced ahead of time. The cab driver was enchanted with me, maybe because of my stumbling language skills, but more likely because I whipped out the feminine charm with which all women are equipped. Don’t deny it! It works in a pinch - a last resort. He was kind and chatted with me all the way to my teacher’s house.

Mrs. Chung, a picture of Korean custom and charm: dressed in hanbok and had her long greying hair pinned back in a traditional style. She made me feel welcome in her home, serving me first green tea made from leaves, and then green tea made from leaves ground into a fine powder. Wonderful! Then she showed me the ceremony in its entirety. So restrained and fluid. Very East Asian looking to me and I felt panicked realizing how foreign the movements are. Can I learn them? It’s hard. We worked through part of the ceremony and while it’s easy to learn the procedure, the grace of Korean etiquette is an effort. She taught me some vocabulary and complimented me on my delivery of chesonghamnida (I’m sorry.) She said it sounds so natural the way I say it. Hahaa! I said, that’s because I say it so much. It’s true: I’m always apologizing for my lack of speaking capability.

I left there feeling full of happiness and completely at ease in Korean culture. The difference one person can make in another’s experience is amazing. I wish I could remember now exactly how I was feeling; it was vivid at the time. I remember myself sitting on the seat above the hump of the back wheel on bus #1. Thinking of all that I was going to learn and about the opportunity to learn something special and useful. I thought about ritual. It as a conduit to cultural understanding and how, in general, I’m attracted to rituals even if I’m particular about the types of rituals I will consent to join in.

I was late again, and bus #1 was moving slow in traffic. Christine, a new arrival in Seoul, wasn’t upset when I sat down panting across the table from her at Puffin Café. Best hot chocolate in the city, this café serves. I’m serious. I’m their new bestest customer. They make it exactly like I would make it for myself when I was a barista: Large and decadent, topped with whipped cream and a drizzling of chocolate syrup.

Christine and her husband are having a hard time in Korea. Understandably so, as their company is screwing them over big time, like ours is. She’s got a lot of anger and bitterness, much like me but it consumes her like I was once - I am no more - that whole first year. And I’m surprised at how I’m unable to relate. I feel myself not understanding what she’s saying, and then I catch myself; I remind myself how I felt when others couldn’t understand the hell I was in. I never thought I would lose touch with that.

They are also having trouble setting up their new computer. So, I went over to help and got it turned on for them. Now they can just play. Setting up a computer here is scary. Really. You bring a computer from the States, warranty null and void once it’s set up on foreign soil. Grounded outlets are scarce, so sophisticated surge protectors sound alarms when plugged in. Calling out an electrician is really not an option when you don’t speak the language and when the local populace really doesn’t see why you have your pants in a bunch. Why not just plug it in? That’s what they would do. Quit yer whinin’. So, the alarm is going off and you have to find a cheaper, less safe way of plugging in the computer. And you do. The cheap power strip says it’s a surge protector, but really, how do you know? A lot of things here say they’re something they’re not. So, you think it’s just the grounding, and you hope it’s not some scary sounding thing like "reversed polarity" that’s causing the real surge protector to protest. Eventually, you just have to plug in the system and hope for the best, which you do. It works, and you’re happy. No ground, no real protection. The power goes out all the time, taking down the system with it. Pray for even currents. Stories filter down the grapevine about So-and-So’s monitor that blew out because the outlet wasn’t grounded and the surge protector couldn’t handle it. Still, risks are risks are risks, and you just hope it’s not you next time.

Came home and relented to a freak head cold that had been gaining momentum since the café. Sudden and swift, it removed my appetite and inspired a new friendship with the Kleenex box.