The Witching Hour Conclusion

We shook off the rain from our umbrellas and entered the chaperone’s home. I made a comment of it being a vast improvement from it being the barracks of yesteryear. He said that the barracks were on the other side. So I guess this was middle class housing then for the Army. I don’t know.

It was oddly furnished, one may have thought we stepped into a Salvation Army thrift shop. The various chairs of different prints, same slick vinyl lined up under the windows. A coffee table and then an entertainment center, but no entertainment. No TV or radio.

We walked back to see his room which was equipped with its own fridge, despite there being a kitchen down the hall. I guess this is a more serious equivalent to writing your name on your food, have your own full size fridge in your room!

As we played musical bed, chair, sofa as to who would sleep where. We were in a discussion about how random and interesting this night had been. Until we realized that our chaperone was gone again! We soon learned that he was looking for another place to crash, but his friend wasn’t home.

As a friend and I made ourselves as comfortable as we possibly could. I kept hearing a buzzzzzzzzz in my ear. Well, well…a mosquito! So, not only did I have to fight the cold. Did you know that the Army controls everything? They had designated days of when the heat would be turned on and just our luck it wasn’t going to be for another week.

One bite, two bite, three bit four. F*ck it what is just one more. I regretted my decision trying to be cute wearing a skirt, I never wear skirts and now my ass was getting bit by an eager misquiter. So as my body limbs begin to swell, I was also freezing trying to use this small little jacket as a sheet/comforter/duvet.

I didn’t get no sleep. It was freezing and I had to protect myself from the Twilight mosquito attacking my ass in the twilight.

Duhduhduhduhduhduh duh…duhduhduhduh duh duh. DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH….

Oh. Hell. NAW!

It was now 600 am, or as they say in the military Oh 6hundred hours. They played that little trumpet solo over the loud speaker and I couldn’t help but think…why on the weekend? They still play that same bs? What about waking up to some Jay-Z or at least Taylor Swift…sheesh.

I had been awake all night and now my body had lovely lady lumps all over and I just wanted some Calamine lotion and a bath.

As we rose and laughed about the night I saw little Bella mosquito sitting on the barren white wall and I smacked that bitch dead, my blood smearing the wall.

My bad I said. Not to the mosquito, but to the chaperone for messing up his walls on top of messing up his whole night/day.

So, I survived. My friends made it alive. We never thought we would be so happy to go back to the ‘burbs.

In conclusion, in the witching hour people’s true character shows. I am thankful that we met someone who wasn’t a trick but a treat.

Decisions, Decisions

What have I been up to. Let’s see, I am just now posting this story about Halloween. I have several stories still in draft. Just living life and what not. I doubt anyone is waiting on this blog with bated breath.

Also, I am trying to live my life off the computer. Now that it is colder. I anticipate on more days in, so blog will get more posts.

So to sum up my life since my last post in the spring….
Volunteering for Pearl Buck had me thinking what the…
Summer was fun and sad. That reverse culture shock is no joke…
Gained some new friends, lost some others. As Dr.Seuss would say, “Those that mind don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind.”
Now we are in fall, and I have to make some choices about my life.

When don’t I have to make a life-altering decision.

I have to either sign another contract in December to stay in Korea or to leave. I am thinking of going somewhere else but it has to be the right place, like Argentina, Japan or Hong Kong. Random I know.
Mentally, sometimes I just want to head back to school and get my doctorate. But economically, that doesn’t make sense right now.
I do have an interview with an education publishing company in Korea. So we will see how that goes.

That is life so far…see you haven’t missed much.

The Witching Hour Part II

As we stood under the street lamp we exchanged a variety of expressions, we contemplated our conundrum of not being able to sleep in our own homes and being stuck on the military base for not making the 12 o’clock cut-off time. Cinderella logic is alive and well in Korea, you can’t even catch a bus or subway to get the hell outta dodge if need be.

Of course if we went through Gate 11, we could have left at anytime. We could have actually still left at that moment, but we had to all be there to get our IDs back with the chaperone the next day. Considering where we live and trying to logistically plan that. We scrapped that idea. It was actually easier to stay here. Where we didn’t know.

When all else fails, shake a tail feather.

We walked back begrudgingly to the pub to formulate a mission impossible. There were no feminine charms to be utilized or bribery to get us out of there. So what did we do?

We decided to rent a room at the hotel where the parties were being held. But it was Halloween and you guessed right, all the rooms were booked.

FML.

Our chaperone said it was time for plan C.

As we sulked in some lounge chairs, we surveyed the room and realized that no amount of alcohol could blur the apparent situation at hand.

So what is plan C? I asked

There was no plan C. chuckled Captain Save a Ho.

Damn. I thought not.

Now, I didn’t know chaperone from Adam. And my friend is not Eve either. So we felt weird staying with him but had no choice considering our present situation. Being that I am quite familiar with military life, I wasn’t sure how three females would be able to sleep in the barracks. However, he said that he lived in a apartment dorm-style. You know private bedrooms one shared living space and that we could sleep in the bed and he would sleep in the living room. Interesting proposition, wait it was the only proposition.

No one paints baby in a corner!

Just like in a cartoon a lightbulb went off in my head and eyes widening I tell my friend to go ask daddy-o from the party upstairs for an alternative. My rationale was that I met him at least four times and our chaperone, only twice. Mathematically speaking and all it made perfect sense.

So we headed upstairs and I found him on the dance floor.

Oh, you’re back. he said
We’re stuck. I sulked.

I told him the situation and he said that we could leave and come back for our identification.

*evil side eye*

I tell my friend that he didn’t say what we wanted to hear so we went back downstairs and informed our other friend that Operation Save- a -Sista was a bust.

Three single women sitting all alone and we just wanna go home……but can’t. Womp.womp.

One thing we could control was the positioning in the room and moved to a table. As we sat down, our chaperone said he would be right back and left the bar.

As mentioned earlier, the witching hour is an unusual time within a 24 hour span. During this time, only the strange happens after midnight and being that we did not heed our fairy godmother’s warning (in this case an hombre) to go home before 12, we found ourselves in the midst of random fuckery.

Preludes of slow songs began to permeate the room and it was a sign that the establishment would soon close. Because we were entrenched in a conversation about men (moral of the story soon to come), we didn’t realize the most important man of the moment had not returned.

I proceeded to take out some chicken strips from my purse that I had saved from dinner. I tend to carry emergency food for situations such as these. Even though my friends had laughed when I wrapped three chicken strips in napkins at the restaurant. They were devouring them as well as we waited on our chaperone returned. I wish I packed some sauce.

Thirty minutes later, Because the night hasn’t been going quite well I realized that our chaperone wasn’t back. I blurted out, “Where is dude?” Cause by the count of how many songs that had played since his departure, it had been a while. Somewhere between Lil’ Kim and Drake, he was noticeably absent.

He came back but he had on a different jacket than before and raindrops on his shoulders. I have no couth at times and asked, where had he been and why was he wearing a different jacket. Earlier he had on a brown hoodie, now he wore a black track jacket. I should have been a cop.

Cue the Law and Order theme song.

Uhhhhh… he stammered.

I also have a short attention span and the conversation turned to were we ready to go and decided to head out.

We sat in the lobby as my friend took advantage of the mini-PX in the hotel. I don’t blame her, might as well get some souvenirs in the form of American products.

We saw daddy-o again and I straight up asked if one of the ladies were his girlfriends and he said no that he was chaperoning. That explains everything and nothing. He proceeded to tell us that he knew he was a catch or some mess. My friend and I exchanged puzzled looks.

He asked what we were about to do. We stated that we were going to stay with the chaperone. We asked him where did he live and he said at Yongsan by the electronics mart. Still no offer. Well, bye!

If my name was Rapunzel, I would have been waiting in vain.

We began to walk and our chaperone said he would get us a cab but it would take too long. It wasn’t raining too bad so we began to make the trek to his place.

We realized that it was no hop, skip and jump. When we saw the hill we had to walk up we heaved and sighed and finally reached our destination for the next few hours.

Conclusion to come…

The Witching Hour

On the dark, dreary streets of Itaewon, wanders lost souls on Halloween. This particular holiday is of no surprise, very popular for expatriates living in Korea. A time to disguise yourself. Be someone else. Escapism at it’s finest and most celebratory occasion.

The witching hour is when ghouls, demons, and spirits of another world are supposedly rather active during this period. To put it plainly, the freaks come out at night.

As a self-proclaimed homebody and unofficial old broad, It is rare to get me out of the house. The getting- done- up part is a turn off and additionally living in the burbs, transportation woes has inspired many detours back to my chib (Korean for house) in the sky, just because I hate the subway and have a love/hate relationship with the bus. Beware of that 5500-1. It doubles as an amusement park ride.

However, I have been trying to do more, see more, be more that I can be lately and I decided to go to a party being held on the Army base.

In case I have not divulged this on this blog, let me put it plainly. I despise military bases. Living on one and growing up in the military lifestyle from conception until at 19, I packed my car with my belongings and threw up a middle finger to Ft.Bragg, NC and professed I would never return. Overall, there are more rigid dislikes about the whole institution of being government issued (G.I) that is just not appealing to me. However, I respect my men and women in camo, cause they put up with a lot like possibly going to war for some politician’s campaign for petrified fruit cocktail and itchy wool blankets in exchange.

Let’s be clear about the majority that serve in our armed forces. 1. They usually do not have many options in life. 2. They are from rural areas and/or poor 3. Uneducated.

The military base is the twilight zone in any foreign country. Step onto one and you will feel as if you are in America, sterile in a beige sorta way.

As my girls and I gathered to venture into the land of wtf. We approached Gate 5 and waited for our escorts, (sounds provocative, but it really isn’t) to guide us on post.

To get on base, you have to have a sponsor, someone who is willing to do a hundred push-ups or some bullshit the Army makes you do when you have been a bad soldier. I really don’t know what the punishment is, but someone has to sign you in. We stood around waiting as the party host boisterously entered the room to check people in. He was dressed as Jim Carrey from the Mask. An appropriate costume for the man, since he himself was outdated and equally corny. He was a nice enough guy, it was just apparent that he was a middle-aged dude trying to rekindle his youth by transforming into the cool guy, by being a party promoter when he was probably voted “Most Likely Not To Attend Prom” in high school. I can tolerate corniness. I am the mother of all cornballs and take pride in my nerdiness. However, he seemed to be making sexual innuendos and lame references that made my friend rather uncomfortable.

It was Halloween, but she wasn’t in disguise. She let him know in so many words and overall ‘tude, that he was annoying as hell. We got signed in and as the sergeant at the desk took away our alien IDs. We made our way to the club.

Inside, there was a mish-mash of people. Old folks, young folks, gay, straight, ugly, not-so-ugly…..rewind….wait. Did I just see children? Yes, there were even children at this bash. I always felt weird drinking alcohol in front of kids, however the scantily clad pirate should have felt awkward considering her boobs and booty was on display. What would Halloween be without women costumes that channel your inner playmate?

So, the party was whack and we decided to try to inspire the night with a few cocktails. After two drinks, we ready to head to the next party on base, it was an old-school party. Now we had to go with our chaperone cause we can’t leave the base without him. He walked us over to party deux and we are excited as we see more age appropriate people at this shinding. Why didn’t we go to this party at first? Because they wanted money and me don’t likey paying for anything. As planned we hustled our way in for free and that didn’t stop us from eating the buffet to see what free chicken tastes like. By the way, it tastes like crap.

We notice that this party is drab, like the weather outside. Don’t know what it is about black folks and rain. That ish is like kryptonite. So it was a little thin in the crowd but there were a few men that were decent looking. As we finished another drink, we decided to make a move and head downstairs. There was a pub. It was playing more current music and it obviously catered to a younger patronage.

It was like a bad hip hop video. Or a high school dance. The music was great so we headed to the dance floor. In the middle of the floor men were dancing together in a circle, rapping the lyrics of the song to each other and posturing like they are the next Jigga man. Whatever.

We headed to the bar and ordered a round, somehow we have been drinking for three consecutive hours and were extremely sober. As we ordered drinks, a bedazzled boy wonder positioned himself next to my friend and said he would buy that round of drinks. We thanked him for the gesture, but I thought it was funny he looked at the bill cause the drinks are like 5 bucks each. It is not like being back home shouting “What?” to the bartender, not because you didn’t hear them, but because you can’t believe that little glass of liquid alibi will cost you $12 plus tip.

Now the daddy-o that got us in the old-school party was with us and we passed him his drink to thank him for letting us in for free. He seemed like the most decent dude out of the random choices of the evening. He also seemed the least interested. Maybe it was his costume that intrigued me. He wore some Chucks, white t-shirt with a cigarette pack rolled in the sleeve and a leather coat. That whole 50s James Dean American bad ass look. He guzzled his drink and said he was headed back upstairs as we were left with the underage and urban brand whores.

When all else fails, shake a tail feather.

We get back to the dance floor, same thing, different song. Dudes dancing in a circle one or two random chicks jumping in like double dutch. My friend is waiting on a phone call from her suitor, but we get a call that it is time to go.

As we went back upstairs to say thanks to the rebel in black leather. We noticed how the parties were dramatically different. Educated older black men on one floor, younger uneducated black boys on the other. We also got no action on either.

As we walked in the drizzly rain, we talked about dating black men and the trials and tribulations of it all. We were met at the bridge by our chaperone and our friend.

We are too late, they said
What do you mean.
We had to leave by midnight

As we stood on that overpass in the rain, I felt as if it was the end of one of those soap operas…you know how everyone looks at everyone with darting glances.

Announcer:
How will these three ladies get off base?

To be continued….

Dr. Do Right

One of the many times I proclaimed that I am leaving America and would live abroad was while watching Sicko by Michael Moore with my friends. I have, just like many Americans, been fed up with the healthcare system in the states. Luckily, I have never had any serious illnesses that required extensive treatment.

But I have dealt with the VA Medical Center for ten years as my father’s power of attorney. Try getting an appointment there or getting the same doctor twice. Not likely to happen.

My mother had to let her insurance lapse due to high premiums. Her medications also ran in excess of $500 a month or more. She is living on a prayer literally.

One of my closest friends got cancer and watched the dollar amounts rise and rise. Who knows what that may have done to his credit.

Today I went to the doctor with no appointment and forgot my insurance card. I was signed in and waited for about 30-45 minutes, they were busy with people exhibiting the same cough and congestion I was experiencing. Maybe it has to do with just a change in season or the swine flu scare happening coincidentally. It was bustling. I am used to waiting so I chatted with my friend who also went to the doctor earlier that week.

The receptionist explained that since I didn’t have insurance, it would be about 20,000 won. That is less than 20 US dollars. With insurance, probably ten or less. No big deal. Matter of fact, Wow. Try that in America.

The doctor saw me and probed my nose and told me my regimen of pills and I was scurried to an area to sit with a humidifier with a hose connected to place under my nose to clear up my sinuses. A little boy sat next to me to undergo the same treatment we exchanged thumbs up and we were on our way…

I went downstairs to the pharmacy and the lady told me the cost. I looked stunned. She thought I didn’t understand, but I was just in shock. You mean this is going to be little less than 9 dollars. I was waiting for 90 dollars. No stupid forms to fill out, no waiting an hour for anything.

I left in less than 2 minutes with neatly daily regimen packs of what to take and when. I received a week’s worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner packs each containing 3-4 pills. Also, cough syrup. Less than what I would have paid OTC.

Now, is it me but America is lying about not being able to provide its citizens with affordable healthcare.

No one should have to wait months to be seen. A sick person should be able to live without added stress about how to pay. A person shouldn’t have to sign away their life in order to live their life. People shouldn’t have to choose between healthcare and paying their mortgage.

And they call America civilized.

Resurrection

I am by no means a theologist and neither am I an avid bible thumper, church goer and nor do I ascribe to any particular religion. I am not an atheist either. I believe in God, a God that lies within all people, that moral compass that tells us what is right from wrong. However, I felt on this Easter weekend it had me pondering “resurrection” and the meaning.

One Easter Sunday when I was around 10 or 11 years old, I remember getting dressed in an all white dress, white lacy socks and patent leather mary janes. I carried my all white bible that I saved my allowance to get and an Easter basket for the egg hunt after church.

The former school bus, now the transportation for Something of Another Baptist Church of God Knows What picked me up for Sunday school and service.

In Sunday school, I remember asking how can someone come back from death. I remember being scolded. This wasn’t the first time I have questioned the teacher. I found it interesting that Mary could get pregnant but Joseph wasn’t the father and how could Moses part an entire Sea! I mean we did have the Ten Commandments on beta, but even with the visual dramatization on TV, I still didn’t get it. I could tell she was annoyed with me. There was no explanation as to the resurrection. Just that Jesus was no longer where he was laid to rest when the ladies came back to check on him. He was dead and then rose from death.
Huh?

“Couldn’t someone have moved the body?”
“Maybe he wasn’t dead!”
“How come no one can come back from death now?”

My questions infruriated the teacher who was close to damning me to hell for questioning the bible and incited giggles from my classmates, but I was serious. I wanted to know!

I was asked not to return for Sunday school and as the bus driver told my dad kindly that he will no longer be making the stop in front of my house. I tore off that dress and got on my bike and rode off into the sunset and bit the head off a yellow marshmallow peep.

When I got older, I tried church again and of course Easter came around. I was a teenager now and thought hey, I am at a new church, new Sunday school teacher, new city. Of course, I still had the same questions. How? Why?

You already know how this turned out.

My questions throughout attending church into adulthood has always been brushed aside or ignored. In the moments that someone dared to answer, I even had a Reverend try to explain it to me once, I was left unsatisfied in the response.

Fast forward to now. Wikipedia states that “resurrection refers to the event of a dead person completely returning to life.”

So now I interpret that as people can be living literally and be dead figuratively on the inside, emotionally and spiritually. That the resurrection was the return of faith and hope in Jesus. Not necessarily the literal. I believe that the crucifixion was the deterioration of the man he was trying to be. I mean haters predates A.D. people, they are like roaches.

There are people who are being crucified today. For their hopes and dreams, for their clothes, for how they look, for the little money they make, for whatever… There are people who will die inside from it and give up on their dreams, buy clothes they can’t afford just to fit in, get plastic surgery or work too much while their family deteriorates right in front of them just to make more money. While others will resurrect only stronger and become better for it and live the life they visioned, not someone else’s mold. A life for themselves and not for others. Now that makes me inspired.

I think about how in life, so many bad things have happened to me and how I could have responded to those situations. Submitting to worry and woe could be one way, but there is always another.
Having faith in God or being religious should not remove one’s own responsibility and belittle the power of making your own choices.
Is it easier to blame a third person entity or blame yourself for your own failures and shortcomings? God wants us to be happy, but we sabotage ourselves so we can’t blame God, now can we!?

But I believe that I resurrected my inner spirit knowing that just because my life never began as planned, it is up to me to determine my own destiny. I may not be living the life most imagined, but I am living the life I want.
Considering fasting for Lent and Easter along with the spring season, signifies renewal for a person.
I believe in the resurrection of one’s body, mind and soul. So as Easter comes to the end, I would say that forget New Year’s Resolutions…how will you resurrect yourself?

Where Did All My Money Go?

Where did all my money go? I got to thinking about my own lessons I have learned while living in Korea and it coincidentally being a recession. I have learned these hard lessons and these five things may make you want to check your statements too:

1. Cheap Fashion
Trendy cheap clothes are a waste of money. I have donated countless bags of out of style garments to Goodwill, argued with the teenage girl at Plato’s closet to get more money on my used platform clogs and can go through my closet and find things I will never wear or wore only once. Trying to be hip and cool cost me too much money that could have been in my bank account. That $19.99 shirt at Target, that $21.00 skirt at Forever 21….all that stuff adds up. It is a trap! Because it is so cheap, you won’t notice those few dollars…but that stuff adds up and wears out. Honestly. I wear the same outfits over and over. Part of it is getting older and identifying my sense of style. I admire Carrie Bradshaw’s quirky fashion sense, but I am more of Jennifer Aniston conservative dresser. I love Rihanna’s style, but she is 21. I am not. I also like Victoria Beckham’s fashion sense. I also like vintage, retro clothes. But I admit my 20s was like fashion dyslexia. I tried too many trends. I have found my happy medium of mixing classic pieces and adding a splash of fun, here and there. and am proud of how much less I am spending on clothes especially in the land of cheap fashion, Korea. My mother is right that quality is better than quantity.
2. Dining Out
I can cook. That is what makes this money waster a damn shame. I can taste something and name what is in it and recreate it at home. I was lazy too many times to cook and would just run out and spend 8 bucks here, 25 here and so on. I will say that I eat less anyway in Korea. I think that there are way too many advertisements in America. I could be at home in the states and see a Wendy’s commercial and think I wanted a double stack. I ate at Wendy’s on Christmas break while in the states and didn’t finish it and almost threw up. That is the other thing, I am literally eating my money, pooping it out and flushing it away. Also, eating is so social. Since I stay to myself a lot here and eating out alone is considered weird here, I save a lot by eating at home. I shop at the farmer’s market and Costco now. I also have been better about bringing my lunch to school. Two things I rarely did in the states. I have now designated two times a month to eat out. One is to the kalbi joint every month I have to eat there…it is too good and the other is for when I am absolutely too tired to cook.
3. Alcohol
Another social thing that will drain your wallet. I have spent 60 dollars out drinking, cause sometimes I didn’t feel like tricking myself out just to get a free drink. I no longer meet anyone for drinks. No happy hours. No bar hopping. No club going. So, I have saved a lot of money in that area. These tough times will drive anyone to the bottle, but I can’t stomach paying for liquor anymore. The markup is enough to give me a financial hangover.
4. Travel
This is the hardest to give up. I love to travel. I never say no if you want to go. But that is also something I have cut down. Well, given that I am going to the states in a couple of weeks and have a long itinerary of traveling this summer it may not seem like it. However, I had a credit for the trip coming up, my school pays for my trip in the summer and the extra jaunts while in the states in July are courtesy of frequent flier miles. So, what have I cut out? I have cut out the mini-vacations. I did not go to China during Lunar New Year as I hoped, no Thailand, no Bali. For now. I plan to do the thriftier approach with www.cathaypacific.com They offer an All Asia Pass for like 1200 bucks. 21 countries, 21 days. You pick and stay wherever, you can extend your journey too and add on more destinations. I will do that the summer before I move back to the west. It makes no sense to travel here and there. The only trips I will make are to go to the states at Christmas from now on or more if I have the miles.
5. Entertainment
Movies, books, video games etc. Entertaining oneself is costly. I am thankful now for bootlegs, torrential downloads and free trials of video games. When I lived in the states I had DirectTV, Netflix, went to the movies a lot and had a game console. Now I don’t. Guess what, I am still entertained.

So giving up or modifying these things doesn’t mean that I am a naked bored homebody eating ramen and drinking water. I have found other things to do with my time. Like volunteering, blogging, watching movies for free, playing games for free, being creative in the kitchen and talking to friends.

That is my recession advice from one broke blogger to the world.