Adjustments Round 1

I have now been in Uganda for exactly one week. I can’t believe how long/short this week has been! I really had no idea what to expect, but life here has still managed to surprise me immensely!

I am adjusting to so many things: applying bug repellant every few hours, endlessly killing flies/mosquitoes/ants, talking to every single person I meet on the road and asking them how they are in Luganda (it is considered rude not to exchange this question and appropriate responses), turning on the lights at night (when the power is working) to scare any large bugs/lizards, and similarly, not pouring anything in the dark (I have heard horror stories of frogs/bugs in unexamined glasses). I now assume it will take 20 minutes to walk to school and another 5-10 to make it across the sprawling school campus, sleep through the daily song beaconing devout Muslims to 4:30 am prayer, ignore the honks of every vehicle passing by (they honk to signal a free seat), and anticipate obscene traffic going back/forth to Kampala. I am more accustomed to having my compound patrolled by both a day guard and a night guard (complete with a gun), watching birds of every shape and color dart about, sleeping under a mosquito net, boiling water to do my dishes, locating candles every time the power goes out (usually at least once a day), and waiting about 5 times longer than I would anywhere else in the world to do anything (a 4 person line at the bank might take an hour).

These are a few of the adjustments I have been making this week. Not to mention all the new things that come with working in a new school, interacting with a new community, making new friends…

Honestly, I am exhausted. But, I am also really excited for things to come. Each day life feels more natural here. I am excited for the day when things really start to feel like home!

A few snapshots of my new life (there is a full album with many more on my facebook page if you are interested):
My house (the smaller one):


My school:


Kampala:

Things Unknown

I am sitting in an armchair in my parents’ living room and contemplating the fact that by this time next week, I will be in Africa. I have read many country profiles, talked to friends who have lived in Kampala, browsed East Africa guides, perused a variety of articles related to security, read the info packet provided by my school, looked at pictures, and yet… I still do not really know what to expect.

Sample things I do not know: what I will eat on a daily basis, whether I will get a car, cook, gun (Peter’s idea), or dog, how fast (or slow) my internet will be, how I will get home from the airport or to my work, when (if) I will get the boxes I shipped from Korea, what my new coworkers and students will be like, who my friends will be, which church I will go to, how I will fare as an IB teacher, where I will have a chance to travel to, how I will avoid crazy terrorists, whether I will be able to find towels that are affordable, if I will love Uganda as much as I hope I will...

Insecurities, doubts, and fears tend to creep in when unknowns cloud the forefront of my mind. However, I know that this is part of God’s plan for me. And when I relax in that faith, I am pretty stinking excited.

Life is about to change. I am about to change. A week has never felt so short/long.

On Being American

As an American who spends the majority of the year abroad, I find my stance on nationalism to be ambivalent. So often I find myself flabbergasted by political decisions and ashamed of egocentric and ignorant actions Americans take that profoundly impact other nations/people. The U.S. does not have a positive face in much of the international sphere and, as I have learned more about social justice issues, I have grown more sympathetic towards foreign perceptions of us as a nation. Accordingly, I was a bit surprised when, sitting in an completely over-done parade of red, white, and blue in my American church on the 4th of July, I was hit with a profound wave of unfiltered warmth for my home country.

It was not the recitation of the pledge of allegiance or the bell rendition of “God Bless America” that got me. Instead it was some of the faces that I watched singing that choked me up: powdered, wrinkled, freckled, scarred, Chinese, Filipino, Caucasian, Democrat, Republican…even at a mostly middle/upper class church in a ritzy Californian suburb the diversity of the American people struck me. It reminded me of the things I love about the United States.

I love the plethora of cultures that comprise each community. I love that this is a nation where multiple religions, stances, affiliations, and interests are not only tolerated, but legally protected. I love the warmth of people. I love that no two Americans share the same experiences because this nation has so many sub-cultures and differences: geographical, philosophical, and political. I love that people can both protest and praise. I love that I grew up in a community where fear was not a prominent emotion. I love that individuality is encouraged.

My 4th of July celebrations were characteristic of my American experience. I went for a run through my parents' neighborhood and watched flags wave from manicured houses. I sang “Amazing Grace” at a highly patriotic church service where the Boy Scouts served as color guards. Then I joined one of my best friends for lunch at a vegetarian Indian restaurant for lunch and followed it with a Korean desert from a shopping center where everything was written in Hangul. I sat on my parents' couch and talked with them while I drank a diet coke with added vitamins (what could be more American than that?!?). Then I joined my brother and his friends (4 friends, 4 different ethnicities) for a San Francisco-style holiday celebration. We drank organic beer and ate arugula and artichoke pizza on the edge of pier. Then we watched fireworks over the bay amongst crowds of people representing every culture imaginable. We ended the night in a diner (because our organic meal #1 was not particularly satiating) before driving back to the South Bay. All-in-all, a good holiday—one in which I claimed my American identity proudly.

Highlights from a week at home:

10) Reading. Mostly books that I will be teaching at this stage, but still. It’s fun to have time to read.

9) Purging old books, clothes, shoes, purses… my room is so much cleaner!

8) Discovering, after years of believing that dresses look awful on me, that they can actually look good! I may have bought one or two… or 7 dresses in the last week. I am done shopping.

7) Eating lots of delicious food that is hard to find abroad: spicy shrimp, salads with fruit and fancy cheeses, gorgonzola and spinach ravioli, lotsa sushi, Maryanne’s ice cream, good Californian wine, Yougurtland fro yo, Peet’s coffee, Mom’s French onion soup, pearl tea, grandma’s cooking… California is the best place in the world to eat! Yum.

6) Sorting clothes at a homeless support center with the high school kids from church (I started volunteering with the youth group). InnVision is a cool organization!

5) Eating kinchee-chigeh, sporting my dae han min guk temporary tattoo + teeshirt, and cheering on the Korean team at Strike. It was fun being one of the only non-Koreans there… I felt like I was back in Daejeon again!

4) Spending time on the beach. I LOVE the ocean.

3) Donavon’s goal in the 91st minute. So fun to be a part of that moment cheering alongside my fellow Americans at the Brit ☺

2) Seeing Wicked in San Francisco with my mom, my brother (gasp), and my brother’s girlfriend (the only reason my brother considered going… way to go Marina!). One word: amazing!

1) Spending time with people. Highlights are always people. Got to spend time with many quality people this week. It is nice to be closer to them (geographically speaking). Reunions rock.

That's my Dad!

I'm a proud daughter! My dad won a leadership award for his work with Kaiser Permanente. He has worked hard as a doctor and also an administrator. He recently helped design a new hospital (Kaiser Santa Clara) and has helped oversee his hospital's transition into the new building. This link talks a bit about his accomplishments. Pretty cool. Go Dad!

http://xnet.kp.org/ncal/tpmgawards/cutting/awardee/lillo/index.html

What's in a name?

It has been a week since I left Korea and returned to California. Among other things, two topics spin in the forefront of my ponderings: 1) names and 2) my current transition point. For the last three years, my blog has been called “Sarah’s Korean Adventures,” a literal label correlating with my experiences abroad. However, as numerous individuals have pointed out to me, this descriptor is no longer accurate. As I re-acclimate to California, a familiar, yet surprisingly foreign, English-speaking community, I find I am often greeted with friendly questions like “Are you from around here?” or “What do you do?” To such questions, I fumble to find an accurate and comprehensible response. My muddled replies are often as discombobulated as my transition, fragmented into boxes being shipped around the globe and scattered into shared memories with people continents away. I struggle to articulate the significance of my experiences, the differences between cultures, and the whirlwind of emotions that accompany me along my move to others, and even to myself.

The title of my blog suddenly becomes especially symbolic. As I reflect upon my time in Korea, readjust/reconnect to my American community, and anticipate my transition to Africa, I must redefine my own conceptions of myself. I find myself asking deep questions about my purpose, plans, and goals. I grasp for the words to express my faith and my trust that each of these seemingly random communities are a part of God’s plan for my life. I search for a label that somehow captures the deep continuity that transcends continents; that describes my philosophy of living in many respects.

I am not fully satisfied with my blog title. It is a work in progress. But at this present point in my transition, it begins to encompass a bit of my outlook on my international experiences.

Reminiscing from my California bedroom, upon returning home from Korea

Since the start of this blog 3 years ago, I have travelled to 17 countries, taught 15 classes, taken 56 flights (spent goodness knows how many hours in planes), helped build 2 houses, and have sold about $1500 worth of original earrings to raise money for various causes. I have had SO many interesting and stretching experiences!

At work, I have survived my first full time teaching job and have honed my teaching skills (shout-out to LeeAnne with the use of the word “hone”). I have directed Shakespeare plays, let my students stand on desks and do poetry slams, dissected poetry, led a teacher book club panel, and have acclimated to a 1-1 laptop environment. The acronyms A1, A2, TOK, MYP, CAS, OCK, RBB, AA, ESLR, PLC, and MK mean something to me now. I have head coached my first soccer team (and we made it to a championship match!). I have chaperoned 5 international trips with groups of students. I have learned what it looks like to share my faith with students. I have organized the first English department birthday parade ☺

Beyond school, I have lived in a country where I did not know the language (sadly, this is still an apt description of me… my Korean is not nearly as good as I wished it would be) and have acclimated in many ways to a new culture. Sorting garbage and freezing my food garbage has become second nature. The cycles of yellow dust seem a natural part of my life. Random dancers in the street, people dressed in giant soju costumes, ajumas sporting rhinestone animal print coats with plaid pants and a floral visor hardly get a second glance. I bow at everyone I meet. I occasionally complain that my food isn’t spicy enough for me and have distinct kimchee preferences.

I have flung myself into the world: I have spooned tigers, jumped out of an airplane, climbed Mt. Fuji, descended into an Egyptian pyramid, floated in the Dead Sea, tasted a scorpion, and held a koala. I have collected 3 piercings, one tattoo, dozens of sand-flea scars, and 4 surgery incisions. I have taken every form of transportation imaginable: trains, planes, bicycles, camels, canoes, rafts, elephants, tuk-tuks, jeepnies, motorcycles, subways, taxis, hydrofoils, zip lines… Many social justice issues have come to my attention and I have tried to become an activist for those in need (especially for women trapped in the Thai sex industry).

In my own community, I have learned to articulate the subtle differences between Americans and Canadians. I have (unwillingly) adopted some of the Minnesotan vowels (thanks to Emily and Bre). I have joined a home church. I have friends from every continent except Antarctica… does anyone actually live there? I have frequented rooftops, Click apartments, a dozen different coffee shops, and a variety of neighborhood restaurants. I know the KTX and bus schedules well. Thousands of people have seen me naked (at the jimjilbang… don’t worry, I haven’t become an exhibitionist or anything). I have refined my pottery making skills under the tutelage of a skilled Korean potter.

But most importantly, I have made lasting and deep relationships. I have grown in my faith and have listened to students question, seek, and discover God. I know and am known by my kids here. My friends in Korea have been my family, my church, my travel buddies, and my rocks. I am so incredibly sad to part with them.

Letting Go

I think my month’s hiatus from blogging represents my denial of my upcoming transition. Subconsciously, I have been refusing to acknowledge that a chapter of my life is coming to a close. Perhaps, by abandoning my blog, I thought I could postpone the inevitable. But alas, I find myself in a two-thirds empty apartment, having already said tearful farewells to some, and nervously anticipating many more goodbyes in the upcoming weeks… I might as well kick-start the blog again.

Last week, my move became especially real. In the same day I shipped most of my clothes, shoes, books, and household items to Uganda (with the help of a fantastic packing man at the local post office) and I got my new teaching assignment for next year (grades 7, 9, 11, and 12 MYP and DP English). The next day, I had the entire soccer team over for our end of season banquet and awards ceremony. All the girls wrote incredibly kind notes of appreciation and well wishes that were assembled into a book. As I sat on my couch reading their letters, the realization that these girls would no longer by in my life began to sink in. The nervous anticipation of distance has also begun to seep into my social life. Two times in the last week, typical conversations with friends have spiraled into collective crying over departures. Whether I want to deny it or not, in 2 weeks I am going to be leaving the country and community that has been my home for the last 3 years!

There are so many things and people I am going to miss! What will life be like when some of my closest friends no longer have their classrooms besides mine? Or when my coffee buddies and Thursday night supper club crew are continents away? Things just won’t be the same without Click girls, soccer logistics, Home Church, dorm kids, pottery class, rooftop BBQs, or the best students anyone could ask for!

While I want to revel in every moment, the grieving process has begun. I know that home will be meaningful and Uganda will be a new adventure, but I am not quite ready to let go of Korea just yet.

2nd Place!

Last week I announced an open tryout for my girls' varsity team, just 2 days before the start of our large international APAC tournament. With half my team severely injured or sick with the flu, I never would have guessed that we would make it into a championship game. One can never underestimate the power of determination and heart, though.

Five other teams travelled to Daejeon for the APAC tournament: Hong Kong International School, Shanghai American School- Puxi, Shanghai American School- Pudong, Brent International School, and Western Academy of Beijing. My girls fought with such perseverance that they ended the round robin portion of the tournament in 1st place and finished the championship game in 2nd. I was so proud of them and their positive attitudes! Even with injuries and brand new players, I have never seen them play with such determination! I am one proud coach.

International Chicken Appeal

When Emily, LeeAnne, and I discovered that there was a Museum of Chicken Art in Seoul, we were immediately intrigued. What would a chicken art museum hold? Bronze busts of chickens past? Scrawlings on canvas resembling chicken scratches? Plastic replicas of famous poultry food dishes? Paintings drawn by renowned cowards? It was a combination of boredom and curiosity that lured us in its direction.

When we arrived at the tiny musée, we were greeted by three older women sitting in a room surrounded by hundreds of miniature chickens from around the world. An entire floor of polished international chicken figurines glared from behind glass windows, carefully dusted wooden hens rested on benches, proud paintings of roosters atop fences, trees, and farmers watched our bewilderment. I am quite certain that the first floor must have belonged to an obsessive and eccentric grandma who forbid her relatives to dispose of her "valuable" collection. We climbed the stairs and found an entire floor of traditional Korean chicken funeral statues. Apparently chickens were known for holding all the zodiac signs in their feathers and thus, were important symbols on graves.

Talk about a random experience!