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Tonight is my last night in Korea.  I don’t like good bye’s, and so I’m starting to get a little sad to say farewell to my mother country that has treated us so well the last two or so weeks.  The last few days in Seoul have been fun and relaxing.  A nice calm at the end of a whirlwind. 

Friday night, after writing in the PC room for a while, I walked through the steep, narrow streets back to the guesthouse.  When I walked up onto our floor, I was met with the same crying we heard when we had left four hours ago.  I hesitated to knock on the door, but decided to do it.  Gabi answered the door, looking overwhelmed and worn out.  Her new daughter, Sarong, looked even more exhausted.  She said that when she and her husband had decided not to both come to Korea, she didn’t realize how lonely these moments would be.  So we talked for a while, tried to figure out how to distract this cutie little girl (this is where all my funny faces came in handy), and tried to ease the loneliness a bit.  Seeing all those tears and the runny nose and the red cheeks- the total grief- on Sarong’s face was hard for me.  After a while, she seemed to calm down a little (probably from the pure exhaustion that comes after crying that hard for that long) and we parted ways for the night. 

International adoption has changed drastically from the time I was adopted nearly 30 years ago to now.  Back in the day, you weren’t really encouraged or even allowed to come to Korea to pick up your child.  Now, it’s mostly mandatory.  I am so glad.  I think that especially back in the day, but even now, it’s a natural tendency for people to think of international adoption (and domestic for that matter) as this happy, exciting thing where a baby comes to her/his new family.  It, of course, is both happy and exciting.  But witnessing Gabi as she experienced firsthand the other part of adoption, the part with the grieving and the loss of a culture, language, way of life, as Sarong experienced it, convinced me that this is a good and necessary part of the adoption process. 

Since we are staying at a guesthouse where the doors lock at 11:30pm (or earlier, depending on how tired Mr. D, the doorman, is), Friday night dinner and dancing are out.  So we just did dinner.  Even after nearly 2 ½ weeks, we still struggle ordering at Korean restaurants when it’s just the two of us.  When we’re with Tiana, the food seems to just keep coming without even a glance at the menu.  We walked down the row of restaurants around the corner from our pad, peaking our heads in and trying to figure out which was our best chance at a picture menu.  We finally decided on one that looked somewhat busy, but not crazy.  The friendly woman sat us down at the table and started speaking Korean to me.  I asked her for a menu and she pointed to the kiosk on the wall.  All in Korean.  Keith and I were trying to decide what to do when a man at the next table turned around and asked me, “Do you speak Korean?”.  I explained to him that, no, I don’t speak Korean because I was adopted.  He immediately told us it was okay, that he would help us order.  He went on to explain that his good friends were the owners, and that the restaurant was famous for its pork cabbage wraps, vegetables, and noodles.  He then said a few Korean words to the woman, and within minutes, we had a spread in front of us like the ones that magically appear when Tiana orders.  And it was delicious.  All of it.  I eat so much here.  Before he left, he told me that dinner was on him because he was so happy to meet an adopted Korean who had come back to visit her country.  I still can’t believe the kindness that meets us here every single day through the people of Korea. 

Yesterday (Saturday), we took the subway up to Daehwa, a northern suburb of Seoul and also where Tiana lives.  Arriving at the Daehwa/Jeongbalsan area where she lives, I realized how much I miss the openness and nature of home.  Her apartment, this cozy but airy flat on the ninth floor of her building, has what I would consider one of the best views you could have in a city.  A park.  A little Central Park.  After taking us out for a yummy late-afternoon Korean lunch, we hung out at her place, enjoying the view and some coffee.  After letting our food settle a bit, we headed out for a walk.  It gets dark early here, so we walked and watched the sky turn from blue to gorgeous hues of reds and then to the darkest shade of midnight.  She took us to her favorite place in the park, a small dock jutting out over the lake.  During the late summer months, the lake is filled with hundreds of lotus flowers.  Tiana said that during a full moon, she comes out to the lake at night and sits and listens to music, watching the moonbeams bounce off the still, glassy water.  Even without the full moon and just the remains of the flowers, it was perfection. 

Ever since the public bathhouse experience in Gyeongju, I swore that it was my first and last.  But, after much convincing from a very persuasive Tiana, I decided that I would give it a second chance.  By the time we finished the walk in the park, I was thinking, phew, she must have forgotten or we ran out of time.  Of course, I was wrong.  There is a sauna right in her building.  SO, I can now say that I have had both a negative AND positive sauna experience.  It turns out the reason all the old ladies were staring at me and giving me looks was that I had done it all wrong.  Tiana taught me the right way, and it was actually refreshing and relaxing.  I wasn’t the awkward, loner girl this time, yay!  We talked about how ironic it is in the Korean culture that public nakedness is not a big deal at all, but people will stop and stare if a couple kisses on the street. 

After the sauna, Tiana took us to a traditional Japanese restaurant for beer and grub.  Once again, she did not disappoint.  It was another one of my favorite nights here in Korea.  Every now and then, you meet people who can make you laugh so hard your drink comes out your nose, challenge you to think about the world in different ways than you have before, and inspire you to do better for others.  Tiana is one of those people.  She shared about her many travels, about negotiating her way into Pakistan, taking English books from her students in Korea to the students there who have no resources.  She talked about how she wants to go to Bhutan because she has heard that they have been able to maintain a way of life, no matter how the world keeps changing, where they are truly happy people.  We talked about how when you travel to different parts of the world and put faces to people, it makes it that much more impossible to hate.  I asked about Korea, as I am amazed at the speed at which this country has developed.  She told us that just sixty years ago, after the Korean War ended, this country was nothing.  The poverty and hunger was worse than many African nations.  She talked about the people of this country and the unbelievable, sleepless, hard work they have given to build up this country.  She talked about the costs of this quick development- the lack of family time, the stress, both physical and mental.  It made me proud and sad for my home country. 

This morning, our last full day in Korea, we woke up early to help Gabi and Sarong get to the airport limo stop.  We were greeted by a smiling baby girl and her tired mom.  I couldn’t believe this was the same kid, though.  Kids sure are resilient.  We got them on their way and then got back in bed. 

This afternoon, we went back up to Daehwa to say goodbye to Tiana.  We spent the afternoon together and she took us to the one place we’d wanted to go to, but ran out of time.  The DMZ.  I always read about the most heavily-guarded border on earth, the border between North and South Korea, in the news and have always wanted to see it.  We drove up to a station at the northern most point, right before the border, and were met by three South Korean guards.  I snapped a picture as we approached.  Tiana talked to them and one of the things they told her was NO pictures allowed.  Oops.  I’m glad I got one before they told me I couldn’t.  Then, they pointed us to a park (of all things) and lookout point right down the road where many people go to see the border.  It was sort of surreal.  When we pulled up, there were families everywhere, playing and flying kites.  Hundreds of those little plastic windmills in bright colors lined the grassy hills.  There were numerous sculptures, my favorite being four gigantic sculptures made from bamboo of a figure coming up out of the ground.  The sculpture represented the artist’s hope and prayers for the reunification of the two Koreas.  It was almost eerie to see one side of the border filled with people just hanging out, having a good time, and then knowing the conditions on the other side of the border, not more than 700 meters across the river, are so different.  It is unsettling to see such a huge contrast between two countries that were one not more than sixty years ago.  One of my favorite books, “Still Life With Rice”, gives a stunning account of a Korean woman’s life during the Korean War and the drawing of the 38^th parallel.  After being that close to the border today, I keep thinking about the deep sorrow this country has come out of.

And now I’m sitting here, staring at the explosion of clothes around my suitcase, wondering how I’m going to get it all packed, and wondering how the time flew by so quickly.  I am thinking about how I've discovered the truly Korean parts of me that have always been there.  I keep thinking about my birth mom and hoping that one day she’ll find out I came here to find her.  I want her to know I’m okay and, more importantly, I want to know that she’s okay.  I’m thinking about how much I’ll miss being stared and pointed at :).  And I’ve been thinking about the family I’ve made here, despite not finding blood relations.  Tiana said, “Your family is everywhere, around the world”.  I am so grateful for the people that are my family, both here in Korea and back home.  And finally, I’m thinking that after a really good few weeks, I’m sad to leave, but ready to go home.  Anyeong hi Geysayo, good bye Korea and take care. 

"Koreans are the Irish of Asia"

The irony of traveling, as I've discovered through my limited experiences, is that, as with life in general, the times you try to plan the most are the times when things go least according to the plan.  It's a good thing, although at times frustrating.  After saying goodbye to V's mom and beautiful Busan, we took a small plane to the island of Jeju.  As Hawaii or the Bahamas is to Americans, so Jeju is to Koreans.  The small island off the southwest coast of Korea boasts of gorgeous white beaches and crystal blue water.  A little paradise.  We had booked our tickets and hotel back in the states after hearing from many people that it was a "must-do".  It's the only thing was planned prior to leaving Denver. 

We arrived at our hotel by 9 am with all our luggage in hand.  Check-in time is 2pm, we were told by the receptionist in the lime green jacket.  Poor planning on my part.  So we left our bags with the somewhat disgruntled front desk staff of our expensive, luxury hotel and took off to see the island.  We assumed that since this is a tourist hot spot, navigating the island would be easy, more people would speak English, and we'd get to do some real American vacationing.  You know what they say about assuming.  With less English speakers and more Korean-only signs, we realized very quickly that our idea of this two-day getaway might be a little different than expected.  Still, we managed to catch a bus that would take us to one of the "famous" beaches, Hamdeok Beach.  I am still amazed by the public transportation system.  Only 1000won each (which equates to less than $1 each) can get you to another corner of the island.  So we jumped on the bus, garbed in sunglasses, sandals, and swimsuits.  After a few minutes, we realized that everyone else on the bus was wearing coats, jeans, and scarves. 

About an hour later, the bus driver let us off along the road of a small, deserted beach "town".  Small wooden shacks offering food and souveniors lined the road.  The remains of what looked like a once-hopping amusement park stood just off the main road.  Pretty much deserted.  But as I said before, I love the ocean air, and although I have never been to Atlantic City, I would imagine it to look like this, at its quietest. 

The beach was breathtaking.  The water just as clear and blue as everyone said it would be.  It's the kind of blue that makes you feel like someone has photoshopped what you are looking at.  And the many hues of blue were a deep contrast to the nearly white sand and black rocks scattered along the shoreline.  We, being the ONLY people there (apparently Koreans don't like to go for a swim in 60 degree weather...), enjoyed the quiet and calm that only the sound of water can create.  Walking along the shore, we soon realized the beach was alive.  At first, you think it must be the wind or waves pushing shells around.  And then you look closer and see the creatures inside the shells running all along the white floor.  You have to take the time to really look in order to see it.

After a few hours of walking and lounging at our very own private beach, we took the bus back to our hotel to check in.  We arrived not a minute past two and were given our room key.  13th floor with a view.  After settling into the room, we both started to notice quite a few blood splatters on the walls and ceiling.  And then, again looking closer, we discovered the cause of the blood splatters- mosquitoes.  Squished, smashed, and smeared.  Gross, but we could deal.  I went into the bathroom to find dirty kleenex (the weapons used for the mosquito massacre?) on the back of the toilet. Now, I can deal with a little bug remains, but dirty kleenex on the toilet, I cannot.  So we called down to the front desk to explain.  They hung up on me.  So we decided then would be a good time to take a tour of the hotel, first stop being the front desk.  I explained the issue using lots of hand motions, imitating bugs being smashed, and asked for housekeeping.  They nodded yes.  Problem solved.  We then took a tour of the rest of the place.  Turns out, when you stay in fancy shmancy places (which we obviously don't do often), you have to pay to use everything on top of the already expensive room.  Yes, I was feeling a little whiney at this point.  But, we concluded that we didn't come to Jeju to hang out in the hotel all day, so I let the whiney moment pass.

I decided to get a massage at the spa.  And I found out a full body massage in Korea is also different from a full body massage in the states.  At one point, I had to keep from laughing out loud as the woman (most likely in her 50s) was literally walking on my back.  In the end, I wasn't sure if I'd gotten a massage or beat up. 

After the "massage", I walked back to the room to find the bugs and dirty tissue.  So this time Keith went down to lay the law down (haha).  They seemed annoyed, he said, and told him they knew and would send a housekeeper.  So we waited patiently.  Until the next morning.  We called once more and they said they'd send someone.  A couple hours later, after reminiscing about all the kind people we had met in both big city and small town alike, we decided it was a good time to say goodbye to Jeju.  So, we changed our flight time and destination (you can change flights in Korea for CHEAP) and left "paradise island".  Later we talked to our friend Tiana who said we most likely would have had a better experience had we stayed in a small hotel or guest house outside Jeju City.  This is why we don't plan. 

Less than 5 hours later, we were back in Seoul.  Ahhh, it felt good to be back.  We found a backpackers hostel, Kim's Guest House, in the Hapjeong area of Seoul and decided to try it.  Best decision of the week.  Run by the Kim's, this darling, quaint house set in a tree-lined neighborhood is a temporary "home" for its many international guests traveling through.  It was simple and cheap, but offered a clean room (with bug-free walls), free internet, toast and coffee, and a common living area.  I'll take hostels and guest houses any day to luxury high-rise hotels.  These are the places, nestled in neighborhoods, where you get the real flavor of the area. 

That evening, Tiana called to make sure we had made it back safely from Jeju.  We told her we had.  And then we told her we were in the Hapjeong neighborhood.  To which she excitedly replied that this was one of the neighborhoods we used to live in and that she would drive down after she finished work (at 10:30pm) to show us a good time.  She also told me that she and Veronica had decided the 3 things we needed to experience in Korea were street food (check), a Korean bathhouse (check check), and Korean Karaoke.  So at nearly midnight, we met up with Tiana and her friends Holly and Paul (also English teachers) to experience Korea's nightlife.  I have come to the conclusion that as hard as Koreans work, they play evenharder.  Even on a weeknight, the streets of Hapjeong were alive and crowded.  They first took us to get food, which is also a much more pleasant experience with people who can read the menu.  Keith and I have done a lot of guessing and pointing to pictures.  We had this dish with rice noodles and rice cakes that was so spicy, I felt like I had 3rd degree burns in my mouth.  It was delicious.  And the company was even better.  We realized how refreshing it was to connect with people through language again.  They asked us what we saw as the biggest cultural difference between here and home.  There are so many.  Keith said efficiency- Koreans are much more efficient.  I agreed.  I still am amazed at the amount of time it takes for an entire bus to clear out (less than 30 seconds).  Tiana thought maybe they were too efficient to the point of not taking time to notice those that need help.  I told her this is not specific to Korean culture.  We talked about Korean mothers and American mothers.  We talked about work and travel and life.
Then, after lots of food and, even more importantly, drinks, came the part with the Karaoke.  Let me be clear- Korean karaoke is not like American karoake that typically takes place in a crowded bar where the singing gets worse as the night wears on.  In Korea, you rent out a room with a group of friends- this room is fully equipped with a sound system and flat screen tv.  And then you pick from the thousands of selections and sing and dance.  And they are SO good at it.  I realized that I actually don't know the words to songs I thought I did, and also, that I frequently make up my own words when I don't know what the artist is saying.  However, this didn't stop us from making complete fools out of ourselves and having a blast doing it.  We karaoked until 4:30am.  At the end, Tiana said, "Yea, karaoke is really different here than in America.  Americans are really bad at it". 

Tuesday, we slept in until almost noon.  My calves were screaming from the night before.  Apparently karaoke is also a total workout.  We made toast with butter and jelly and sipped on coffee.  We met two girls, Avischka and Laura, who were from Poland and had just finished filming a documentary on the life and culture of people in Fiji and on Christmas Island.  They talked about the culture shock they were experiencing here in Korea after being on the islands.  This is my favorite part of traveling.  You find people from all different parts of the world who are on different journeys, and you get to connect for that brief moment where your journeys cross paths.  You see how big the world is and yet how interconnected we are.  For me, it reminds me how big I can make myself and my problems and my world- it reminds me just how easily I forget that I am connected with something much bigger- the human race in all its diverseness.  It gives me the itch to travel more.  I really need to start playing the lottery. 

Tuesday and Wednesday, we took full advantage of the subway system to explore more neighborhoods in Seoul.  Between the two days, we visited the Dondaemun area which is famous for its clothing shops and markets and Ewha Women's University, another famous shopping area.  The shopping here is like our shopping on steroids.  Walking down the street lined with a sea of shops, it is overwhelming to say the least.  Clothes, purses, shoes, jewelry, carpet, sportswear, literally anything you need, you can find.  You might not be allowed to try it on for size, but you can get just about anything.  We lasted a few hours and then walked away, completely exhausted.

Yesterday (Thursday), we spent the morning at Kim's Guesthouse, chatting with more of her guests.  We met a couple from Arizona who are taking a year and a half off to travel around Asia.  Jealous (and confused- I need to find out their source of income).  After checking out, we traveled back south of the river to the SWS Guest House for our final few days.  Coming back to the Gangnam area where we began the trip, it feels kind of full circle.  After settling back into the guest house, I again snuck a peak at all the babies, and then we spent the afternoon in the Itaewon neighborhood.  It has become one of my favorite things to walk up to street level after getting off the subway.  Walking up those last few steps, it's like entering a completely different world every time.  Every neighborhood is unique and has a different feel to it.  Itaewon was no expection.  I would describe it as a small international neighborhood.  Over the past couple of weeks, I have become accustomed to seeing only Koreans with the occasional, but rare, white person- Korea is so homogenous.  So it was almost shocking to see the diversity of this neighborhood.  Shocking, but nice.  And, there was every type of cuisine imaginable- turkish, mexican, japanese, italian, mediterranean, you name it.  I will let you guess which type we decided on.

This morning, we slept in.  It was one of the best nights of sleep I've had here.  We woke to the housekeeper banging on the door while simultaneously opening it.  I am not sure the point of knocking, if you're already coming in, but I guess it's the thought.  She loves us, though, and I love her.  Last night, she brought us special down-filled comforters so we would be more comfortable.  This morning, it was more towels and linens.  Gamsa Hamnida, thank you. 

Another thing- the guest house and baby's reception home that I thought was my home here is not, in fact, the original baby's reception home.  All my pictures and moments at the beginning- they were nice and all but not where I actually stayed.  The original Baby's Reception home where I lived is in Amsa-dong, another neighborhood in this huge city.  So this afternoon, my sweet social worker, Miss Lee, took us by cab to the original guest house, where I spent my first months.  It is now the Amsa Rehabilitation Center, home to nearly fifty children of all ages with physical or developmental disbabilities.  We took a tour of the center and then got to meet the children.  Beautiful children who are not perceived this way in society.  Miss Lee explained that while many of them are up for adoption, most of them will not find a permanent home other than this one, because most families adopting want the healthy children.  It's hard to see the faces that society puts the stamp of imperfection on.  Miss Lee also told us that the place could not run without its volunteers- that many of them take the kids home to stay with them on the weekends.  There were six or seven women there playing with the kids when we were there.  I wanted to hug them all.  I am so glad that the place I stayed is still a home for the displaced. 

Today, we met another woman, Gabby, from D.C., who is adopting and picked up her little girl from her foster home this afternoon.  When we left this afternoon, we heard her new daughter crying from the room.  Keith and I both smiled, imagining the little girl screaming "what is going on?!" and Keith figured she was looking at her new mom, saying, "oh my gosh, it's a ghost!".  I am going to go check on them both now to make sure they are okay.  And I want to tell them that even if they aren't now, they will be.

The Scenic Route

I could sum up the last three, almost four, days like this: Busan to Gyeongju,, Gyeongju to Busan, Busan to Jeju.  Lots of bus, subway, and airplane time.  But I suppose I’ll fill in some details between the “Bu’s” and “Ju’s”. 

Friday, October 15^th,  we woke up, exhausted after our day of travel to Geochang.  V’s mom looked appropriately tired as well, but still managed to wake up nice and early to make us another full course breakfast- the usual of kimchi, veggies, seaweed soup, and, today, fish!  Not fish like the little fillets we get from the grocery seafood counter- whole fish sitting on the plate, fried and waiting for you to pick apart and eat.  While I am developing a slight addiction to kimchi and all food Korean, it’s a little hard to stomach picking off the scales of your breakfast while it stares back at you.  Still, it was delicious. 

After breakfast, we packed up our backpacks for an overnight trip to Gyeongju, a city about an hour outside of Busan, famous for it’s many ancient and historic sites dating back to the Silla time period (a long time ago).  We considered pushing the trip back a day to rest, but decided we could rest in Gyeongju just as easily as in Busan.  So, back to our translation line with Tiana.  I might add as a side note that, although we still used Tiana for the big scheduling details, V’s mom and I were getting pretty good at the charades communication.  Tiana told me that V’s mom was worried we wouldn’t know how to get to the bus terminal from her place and informed Tiana that she would personally be walking us to the subway to make sure.  I explained to Tiana that we had already mapped our course and knew how to get to both the subway and the bus- no need to inconvenience or trouble V’s mom.  We would be back the next day. Hand the phone to V’s mom.  Listen to her quick and intense Korean chatter.  After a few minutes, she gives me the phone.  Tiana relayed the information and made sure V’s mom knew we were okay to get there- no need to walk us to the subway.  Hang up, grab our bags, put on our shoes, go to hug V’s mom goodbye.  She then put her shoes on and proceeded first out the door, mumbling in Korean the whole time.  So here is where my independent streak and grateful guest did a little head-butting.  I looked at Keith and his only comment was “we’re buying tickets this time”. 

Two hours later, we were in Gyeongju, a beautiful town surrounded on all sides with rolling hills and pines trees that bend in ways that show their age in this historic city.  In all my travels (not near enough due to this thing called work), my favorite places always seem to be the historic ones.  The ones with the really old stuff.  I remember being dumbfounded seeing some of the stadiums in Turkey and the ruins of Greece.  I love standing in places so old you can hardly wrap your mind around it, but somehow can just feel it.  So, you can imagine my excitement arriving at the Gyeongju bus terminal. 

Because we decided to do the fly-by-our-seats thing, our first mission was hotel.  About 500 ft and fifteen minutes later, mission accomplished.  Second mission, and maybe even more important, especially for Keith: food.  We grabbed some snack food at the nearest convenient store and moved on to the next and MOST important mission of finding temples, or tombs, or one of the hundreds of historical sites stamped out on our cartoon map of the city.  It was not even 3pm yet, so we were thinking we could fit in quite a few places yet.  So, with the help of our “trusty” map (I did say cartoon map, so we have no one to blame but ourselves for what comes next), we held it up, and started walking in the direction of the Mt. Namsan area.  I bet that no one who took a tour bus got to see what we saw-you know, the non-touristy spots- junkyard alley, more junkyards, and then a bunch of fields (with no temples in them). 

Growing up, my parents took us on countless road trips all around the country.  They took us on even more “scenic route” tours, which we quickly learned was code for “lost”.  So, after our nearly hour long “scenic route”, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to be those Americans that needed to call the expensive cab.  We took a cab to the Hangsanjae Shrine, which I had picked because I thought it “looked cool” (again, with the cartoon map, what was I thinking?).  The cab driver dropped us off and drove away just before we figured out the shrine was deserted and the gates were locked.  Awesome. We then took another cab to General Kim’s (a famous military officer) tomb in one of the National Parks.  Turns out, the tombs are small, round, grassy hills.  Not exactly the history I was looking for.  Oh, and national parks all kind of look the same, no matter what country you’re in.  Lot’s of trees.  At this point, we were almost ready to give up.  Then we joked, “would V’s mom give up?  Hell no.”  So we took what will be the most expensive cab ride of the trip (we aren’t allowed to speak of it anymore) out to Bulgaksa temple.  Three strikes and you’re out, or third time’s a charm?  It could have gone either way at that point.  Luckily for us, it was the latter. 

Bulgaksa Temple, built in the 8^th century, is one of the only original temples left in the area.  How can I describe standing in the courtyard of a temple built thousands of years ago?  I can’t really; you just have to see it for yourself.  There were several shrines that have been rebuilt with Buddhist monks there to tend to them and make sure no pictures are taken of them.  My favorite of the shrines was called “Avalokitesvara’s Shrine” (try saying that one 10 times fast), a shrine where this Avalokitesvara is enshrined, the Bodhisattva of Perfect Compassion.  Also known as the “One who listens to the cries of the world”.  Alavokitesvara Bodhisattva is dedicated to the  well-beings of all living things and is ever-ready to help those who are in suffering.  I am not Buddhist, but this Boddhisattva, or what she stands for, resonates deeply with me.  Looking back through my life, the people I know that have lived most richly and those who I respect most are those whose lives encompass this notion of “perfect compassion” and “helping those who are in suffering”. 

And sappy moment over.  So after we finished touring Bulgaksa, we walked down the hillside and found a bus that would take us back to the city at a fraction of the fare we no longer speak of.  Yay!  So we rode happily back to the city which was now waking up as night fell upon it.  I must say Korean cities are the most attractive at night with all the neon lights, blaring music, and people everywhere.  With all the lights and noises to distract us, we suddenly noticed everyone getting off the bus at “Gyeonju Station”- we KNEW our stop was “Gyeongju Bus Terminal”, but in that moment, we panicked, second-guessed ourselves, and followed the herd of asians off the bus.  I’m not denying that this might not have been our best decision-making day ever.  The funny thing is, neither of us is worried about getting too lost.  So, we decided to go with it.  Conveniently, the stop we got off at just happened to be the central shopping area of the city.  We walked up and down the narrow streets filled with clothing stores, people, mopeds, and cars (all driving and walking in front of each other randomly and without warning- I still can’t believe more people or cars don’t crash into each other).  I LOVE SHOPPING.  Luckily for our wallets, it was cold out and we were underdressed, so we ducked into a pizza place.  It hit the spot.  On our way back, we walked past two girls, one white and one asian.  I hadn’t done this to date, but we were really cold.  I stopped them and asked if they spoke English. Turns out they did, and they were also trying to get back to their hotel which happened to be around the corner from ours.  So we all piled in a cab together.  And then the irony.  These two girls were both from France, and one of them (the asian:) was adopted from Korea.  They were traveling around the country for three weeks and were halfway through.  I started to feel funny having to say “us too!” over and over and over again.  It’s funny how even if you’re adopted to countries in different continents, you still feel an instant bond with someone with the shared experience of adoption. 

This is getting long and I am just getting to day two, so I’m going to start using my public relations writing skills.  Short and to the point.  I’ll try, at least.  Day 2 in Gyeongju- we were supposed to catch the bus back to Busan, but we were enjoying the town too much.  So we packed up, left our hotel, walked down the street, found an available room, and checked in.  This second hotel was a jackpot and gave us hope for a better decision day than the previous.  The rest of the morning, we walked to a few more historical sites, including Anapji Pond and Bunhwangsa Temple- both beautiful and full of Korean university students who approached us to practice their English.  Before arriving in Korea, I was told by several friends that a lot of young people would come up and want to speak English with us.  Up until this day, we had been surprised that this was not the case.  But these kids were so eager and funny.

After our educational morning, we tried our hands at directions again (this time without the cartoon map) and found the shopping center again.  This time, I did a little (just a little) damage to the pocketbook.  Let me again journey back to a time called “Shannon growing up in white land”, which is my entire life thus far.  The things back home that are not made for asians include: pants and sunglasses.  Not the case here.  I tried on 5 pairs of jeans at the first store and 4 of them fit like a glove.  The woman who owned the store was this sweet woman who spoke minimal English and took an interest in us.  I told her “Chunin ibyeong, I’m adopted”, and after the head-tilt/sympathetic nod, as if on cue, she became just another one of my little moms, helping me decide on which jeans, finding me more jeans, and giving her Korean mother opinions (including telling me I had big beautiful shoulders, which I was just thrilled to hear). 

Many, many, many shops later, we found a little Italian restaurant for lunch/dinner.  Our waitress was a sweet younger girl who chatted with us in beautiful, broken English about her visits to the states.  She loves New York.  If I haven’t said it before, I might get a little irritated with the pushing in the subway or frustrated that I can’t understand anything being said around me, but I LOVE these people.  They are the definitions of kind and gracious.

Okay, so after shopping, we walked back to our hotel and decided to attempt the thing we’ve been hearing all about and feeling like we need to do it to say we’ve experienced it:  The Korean Bath House and Sauna.  For those unfamiliar with this, as I was until recently, it is just as it sounds.  A public bath house and sauna.  If you’ve ever heard of a Turkish bath, it’s comparable (but not the same) in that it’s a place to really get clean in a communal setting.  The whole bath thing doesn’t do much for me in general.  I know a lot of people who find baths to be relaxing and a de-stresser.  For me, they are hot, boring, and I basically feel like I’m soaking in my own filth.  So, the idea of one big, giant bath with other people is not something I’ve ever put on a bucket list or something that would rank high (or anywhere) on my to-do list.  But I was keeping an open mind.  Keith and I walked together to the sauna entrance and parted ways.  I kept thinking, ‘I am comfortable with my body, this is not going to be as awkward as you’re thinking it’s going be’.  I was right- it was just as awkward, maybe even more.  I know, this is supposed to be a relaxing time where you sit and scrub and soak.  I just couldn’t get myself to the “relax” point- so I huddled in the corner of the hot tub like the lonely kid on the playground (it’s not a good comparison at all, but I can’t think of anything that would compare to this) and tried not to be fully aware of the many elderly ladies sitting on their stools just scrubbing away.  When I say scrubbing, I mean, SCRUBBING.  I sat there thinking, ‘is this really happening or am I having one of those naked nightmares??’ I can now say that I have experienced my first and last Korean bath house.  Keith didn’t make it past the glass doors. 

Onto the third day of this recap, or Sunday, October 17^th to be exact.  I woke up with a wave of homesickness and realized we are starting the last week of our time in Korea.  Whenever I travel internationally, I seem to always have a day where I just want to click my converse (I bought my first pair ever for this trip) and be back home.  It’s the point where the newness is wearing a bit; the hours of travel by foot, bus, and train are taking a toll; the cultural differences and language barriers are getting to be a bit overwhelming; and the added factor for me this trip- it’s foreign, yet it’s where I’m from.  We were both feeling it.  On our way back to Busan, I was more acutely aware of the language barriers, the cars almost running us over when we had the “right of way”, the culture where rules and laws seem to be more guidelines and suggestions- where if it says “keep to the right on the stairs”, it doesn’t REALLY mean stay on the right side.  I hit the point in my negotiating this new relationship with my “motherland” where the honeymoon period is wearing off, and you’re left with these poignant emotions, excitement and frustration, hope and disappointment, anger and love. They all meet and it’s what makes the relationship at-times-ugly and beautiful and rich and real. 

When we arrived back home in Busan, we were greeted by V’s mom at the door, smiling.  See, it’s what I was talking about before- that tension between the frustrations and then the smiles.  She immediately motioned food, and we gratefully accepted, watching as she whipped together an elaborate lunch with such ease.  Then, yet another time of translation with my sister Tiana.  I told her to tell V’s mom we would be leaving for Jeju Island in the morning at 7am by plane, so we would call a cab and get ourselves to the airport.  She laughed.  She told me she would tell V’s mom, but as we both knew, she would probably walk us out to find a taxi and physically put us in the car.  I laughed.  Then I told her about the subway incident where she made Keith crawl under the gate.  We both laughed.  Hard.  For about 5 minutes, we laughed together.  I asked Tiana to please convey our utmost gratitude to V’s mom for being a mom away from home and for taking such unbelievable care of us. 

We spent the rest of yesterday afternoon and evening at Haeundae Beach again.  We watched the sunset over the skyline, reflecting brilliant shades of orange and red across the water.  Then, we found a- get this- Mexican restaurant serving fish tacos, quesadillas, cold Korean beer, and some good old-fashioned American pop tunes.  We spent the rest of the evening singing along to Beyonce and Eminem, enjoying our quesadillas, and talking life. 

This morning came early.  And it was even earlier than planned, as we set our alarm for 5am but were startled awake at 3:45am by V’s mom with our last home-cooked Korean breakfast.  She must have woke up at 3 or earlier to get it all ready.  We sat and ate while she sat and folded the last of our laundry she had finished the night before.  I thought about how tired I was.  And how much I hate goodbyes.  And then, it was 5:15 and she was pushing us out the door, grabbing one of our suitcases to carry for us.  She walked us to where her apartment complex and the main road meet, and talked to the cab driver sitting out front, telling him we needed to go to the airport.  Then, she hugged me.  Keith got a little side hug.  And then she hugged me again, speaking to me in Korean.  And I hugged her back, trying to convey my gratitude “thank you, gamsa hamnida, thank you” with and without words.  It surprised me how sad I was to say goodbye.

I cried all the way to the airport.  It’s the first time the whole trip I’ve really cried.  I got to have a Korean mom for a week.  A strong, stubborn, brave Korean woman.  I keep getting to see the Korean in me through women like her.

The Motherload

Somewhere between Seoul and Busan, the jet lag has worn off and exhaustion has set in.  Even as I'm writing, I have to count back through the days to remember when we left Seoul- it feels like weeks ago.  Tuesday- that's the day- I started the morning with my second round of acupuncture and Puhang (the cupping therapy I mentioned earlier- essentially using "cups" to suck out bad blood and leave me with giant round hickies on my back and neck...).  It's pretty fitting that I would get to experience my first acupuncture in Asia- and I'd like to report that it does work.  My neck is almost 100%.  Anyways, we then packed up our bags and once again headed for the subway.  A wise friend of mine once told me (last week) to pack as lightly as possible and I believe when she said this, she had situations in mind like running through a subway station with millions, yes millions, of people running in the opposite direction.  Both my neck and Keith were not the happiest campers by the time we arrived at Seoul Central Station to catch our final train (it's called the bullet train) to Busan. 

The train ride south to the second largest city in Korea took us through every type of scenery you can imagine.  From small villages resting on hillsides, to farms stretching out along the tracks, to skylines of high rise apartments randomly popping up- this country is truly beautiful.  And then, in what seemed like minutes, we were clear across the country.  Busan, which, as I mentioned before, is South Korea's second largest city, is bustling like Seoul, but in a completely different way with a completely different pace and style.  Getting off the train, you can immediately feel the water is close.  Located in the southeast corner of the country and butting up to the Pacific ocean, the port city is known for its beaches and fishing.  I love ocean air- the way it makes your hair curl up around your face, the way you can almost taste the salt in the air, the way it settles around the city like a hazy blanket. 

We took a cab from the train station to my friend/co-worker Veronica's (who I mentioned before) mom's place where we are staying through the remainder of the week.  If I haven't mentioned before, she speaks about as much English as I speak Korean.  Let me just say, communicating without any words  (except for my repeated use of the two phrases I know, "hello" and "thank you") has so far proven hilarious, confusing, entertaining and exhausting.  V's mom lives on the 6th floor of a high rise apartment building, as do most Koreans (it is very rare for people to own a house).  When she met us outside her building on Tuesday, she immediately brought us up to her place, speaking in quick Korean the entire time.  Keith and I both smiled a lot and kept repeating our coin phrases.  She quickly (did I mention Koreans do everything quickly?) showed us our room, had us drop our belongings, and then showed us the bathroom, turning on the bathtub water and motioning for me.  I'm still not quite sure exactly what she wanted me to do, but after some motioning and shrugging, she pulled me in front of the sink, pushed my head down and started washing, rinsing (throwing water on my head with a bowl), washing, rinsing...  I still start laughing out loud when I picture what happened in that first 2 minutes after our arrival.  I guess I must have looked pretty haggard after the trip or like I hadn't showered recently?

If I hadn't felt like I was really IN Korea before, I can assure you, this is the real deal now.  Yesterday morning, we woke up to a fully prepared breakfast of kimchi, rice, veggies, eggs, and a delicious meat and cabbage soup.  As a side note, I LOVE this food, and amazingly, this food loves me.  I have not had a stomach ache the entire time from the food, which we all know is nothing short of a miracle.  Keith then tried to take a shower, walking towards the bathroom with his clothes, only to be stopped by V's mom.  She grabbed his clothes from him and threw them on the floor, which he interpreted to mean she in fact did not want him to shower.  I, again, found this hilarious and had to work really hard not to look like I was rudely laughing at her.  After some help from Tiana with translation, we discovered she was telling us she wanted to do our laundry for us.  Straight from Tiana's mouth- "Korean mothers do everything for you- they make grown adults act like kids".  So before heading out for the day, we somewhat-guiltily handed over our laundry.

Yesterday was probably one of the more relaxing days we have had yet.  We spent most of the day at Haeundae Beach, one of "the beaches" of Busan.  The Busan International Film Festival is going on right now, conveniently in the Haeundae Beach area, so we took full advantage of the free stuff (which I think we got more of because of the big, tall, white guy that could be a movie star aka Keith).  We also got more staring.  We grabbed dinner at a traditional Korean restaurant (btw, Keith is getting progressively better at the cross-legged sitting) and then I had the great idea that I wanted to get a haircut.  You would think with all the "interesting" haircuts I've received that always follow impulsiveness, I would have learned.  No, I guess I haven't.  My hair is still long, but there is far less of it due to language barriers and a big pair of thinning shears.  I thought from one Asian hairstylist to another that there was an unspoken rule about what thinning shears do to our hair.  I'll probably wait on getting that tattoo. 

Last night was an early-to-bed night in order to prepare for today's trip to Geochang, the hometown of my birth mother.  I have to back track a minute to explain that since the night of our arrival, after I showed Veronica's mom a piece of paper with some of my birth mom's information, she has been working tirelessly to help me find more information.  I mean tirelessly- from calling her neighbor over who is from the same town, to calling the government office in Geochang, to planning the trip we took today, she has been working so hard to help me, as if I were family.  I am so grateful.  In just the few days we've spent with her, I see where Veronica gets her strength, humor, and passion. 

So, this brave woman decided to take on a 3-hour bus ride to the back country, a place she's most likely never been to, with two english-only-speakers, to see if we might find even a clue to my birth mom.  Remember, this woman is in her seventies.

We got our wake-up call this morning at 7am- another fully prepared breakfast of kimchi, rice, fish, eggs, deliciousness.  Then we packed up and headed out.  Because of the no talking thing, it's impossible to know if you're late to catch the bus...which we realized when we got down to the street and V's mom took off running.  Literally running.  And we kept running 6 blocks to the subway station, through the subway station to the ticket gates.  Apparently we didn't have enough time to buy tickets either, because she made Keith crawl under the bar that is there to keep people from riding without buying a ticket.  The only thing funnier than watching a 6-ft white guy crawl under one of those things is watching a seventy-something asian woman do it- which she did on the way out.  I don't know if I'm doing enough to describe just how fast this woman moves, but I would say she is in better shape than most people I know who are half her age.  We did make it to our bus with only a few minutes to spare, so I guess we really didn't have time to buy tickets.

Fast forward through the bus ride and we arrived at Geochang, the hometown of my birth mother today just before noon.  Veronica's mom immediately began talking with the local people, asking for directions and help to get to the government building.  I don't know why I would doubt she would get us there, but I was amazed when we pulled up to the front of the building just a few conversations and bus rides later.  The building is the government census building where all information on the citizens is kept.  Because she had talked to them earlier on the phone, they must have been expecting us and welcomed us with coffee and smiles.  This is also the part where things started to get overwhelming for me.  For almost an hour, we sat as they looked for any "Shin Soon Yi" on record, conversing with Veronica's mom while we sat, listened, zoned in and out, and were left in the dark.  Once again, we used our good friend Tiana for translating and found that there are three Shin Soon Yi's in the town, but because of privacy laws, they can't give out their addresses.  So another hour of the staff calling each of the matches, interviewing, asking questions about a "long lost daughter", etc.  Another hour of us sitting quietly, listening to the foreign sounds of the language originally my own.  Then another translation time with Tiana to learn that we hit three dead ends. 

At this point, I was ready to throw in the towel. Veronica's mom was not.  Since a piece of the information my social worker gave me is the exact address in Geochang where my mom lived, V's mom asked the staff for directions to that location, and we set off on foot.  Okay, two things: First, at this point, I was sort of feeling like I was in a movie or something.  And second, I don't think I have ever spoken this few words in a day.  Ever.  But I digress- so we stopped in front of a restaurant and V's mom went inside.  See, when you are the kind of person that needs to know what's going on at all times like I am, it's understandable that this is the type of thing that can make a person go crazy.  V's mom immediately started chatting quite intently with what seemed like the restaurant owners- a wife and husband pair.  They were all talking in excited tones (or what sounded excited to me) and I recognized the occasional "Shin Soon Yi" and "Ibyeong" (adopted) words, but otherwise, Keith and I sat there once again, clueless. 

To make a long story a little shorter, through more translation by Tiana, we learned that this restaurant is the exact address of my birth mom's residence and used to be home to five families that shared the building.  The restaurant owner, who grew up in the town, remembered a Shin family from Seoul who moved to Geochang for a few years and lived in this house.  This could possibly have been my grandfather, or another relative.  The restaurant owner called his cousin to see if he remembered any more specifics.  We sat and did some more waiting and eating.  The eating was far more enjoyable than the waiting.  A few hours later, the restaurant owner returned with disappointing news that this was not in fact the right family.  And just like that, it was over.  I am still having a hard time connecting the dots and tying the loose ends- partly a translation thing, and partly I am getting an up-close look into the complex world of the honor/shame culture.  See, there were a lot of circumstances around my mother's mental and physical condition before and after my birth, so I think that even if I found family, it would be nearly impossible to get completely accurate information in order to protect the name of the family. 

On our bus ride back, I thought a lot about the frustration I felt throughout the day, mostly from not knowing what was going on, but also from the idea that I most likely will not find much more information than I have now because of the whole shame thing.  But I also keep thinking about how even when I feel frustration, it is always paired by this amazement at the intensity and fierceness with which the Korean people care and love.  The staff at the census office absolutely did not have to take two hours to make calls to random Shin Soon Yi's.  And the restaurant owner couple did not have to take their entire afternoon, making phone calls, talking with us, feeding us, all to help a stranger just looking for her birth family. 

Before we left the restaurant, the woman looked at me and pointed to herself and said "me can be oma".  I have been thinking about the idea of "mother" all the way back to Busan as well.  I feel a little like I'm mourning the loss of my birth mother all over again, not just because of the dead ends today, but because I think that in a way, she was very sure of her decision to give me up, which is proven by the extreme difficulty in tracing her thus far.  I don't want to make this into some melodrama- really, it is what it is.  But I've been thinking about "mother", a word attached to a complex relationship for many people, and what "mother" really means, and I think it is this: it's the woman who will crawl under a ticket gate to get you information she knows you want; it's the friend who calls around the world in the middle of the night to check on your neck; and it's the woman who waited for me for 6 years, who wanted me before I was even on the airplane to her; the woman who has been there for the bad and the good; it's my mom. 

"You are so Korean"

It's been a whirlwind of a weekend.  After a day-and-some of travel, we finally landed at Incheon International Airport on Thursday, October 7, at 6:10pm.  I was itching to get off the airplane- for the obvious reason of returning to my home country after 27 years, and then the more pressing reason- I had been privileged to sit next to the most ADD ansy-pants woman EVER.  Keith was even more ready as he discovered flying on an asian airline gives you even less leg room for your six foot-long legs.

Walking through the airport to find Tiana, the friend of my friend Veronica, I suddenly realized this could be more of a challenge for us than expected as we approached the mass of Koreans waiting with signs I can only imagine were people's names.  All in Korean.  After 10 minutes of walking around and walking up to strangers asking "are you Tiana?" and being met with blank stares, we found our sign and our Tiana.  She made us feel more than welcomed to her (and my) country, driving us to our hotel in Seoul, waiting for us to freshen up, then taking us on a night tour of the city.  At 11pm, the city is just waking up and it is pretty spectacular to see.  I thought New York City was huge, but Seoul dwarfs it and makes it seem like the suburbs.  Tiana brought is to one of the markets where the many street vendors were out to feed hungry people at the beginning of their night out.  We shared delicious barbecue chicken and Cass Korean beer.  Both hit the spot.  And soon after, our heads hit the pillows until almost noon the next day.

Friday, after checking out of our hotel, we took a cab to the Guest House attached to my orphanage.  Seoul has a completely different look during the day and I had a hard time recognizing it as the same city.  I'm sure my exhaustion and near-delirium didn't help me the night before, but it took the daylight for it to really hit me.  I'm in Korea!  I am in Korea.  And a short cab ride later, I was not only in Korea, but standing at the steps of the SWS Guest House and Baby's Reception Home.  My home for seven months.  The Korean Social Welfare Society has developed over the past 5 decades to this amazing government organization that provides unbelievable services to the elderly, impoverished, and mainly, to single mothers and orphans.  Walking into the building, you can tell the staff work hard for the mission they believe in and care about the work they are doing (Insert my shout out to Clinica doctors and staff, my comparison back home).  After checking into our small and comfortable room on the 5th floor of the building, Keith and I did a little self-tour of the building.  We found the babies on the 2nd and 3rd floors- I, being the shy one as always, walked immediately through the doorway to peek at the what I would say were 20+ babies.  This was the first (of many times) I felt overwhelmed with emotion.  But luckily, there was a staff member who helped the moment quickly pass by shutting the door in my face.

I met a couple in the hallway, Jon and Julie, and their newly adopted seven month old son Noah.  VERY newly adopted- and you could tell from the shell-shocked looks on their faces.  They had picked up Noah from his foster mom's 2 hours ago and had spent the last hour and a half trying to get Noah to stop crying.  As I watched him just stare at them, I got a little glimpse of what it must have been like for me when I first came to the U.S.  You go from seeing Koreans, hearing Korean, the smells of Korea, to white faces, the English language, and completely different smells instantly.  I will admit, in that moment, I got a pit in my stomach and didn't want them to take him back to wherever they were going.  I wished for him all the things I have missed- understanding my Korean heritage, knowing my Korean relatives, speaking my native language.  It was just for a moment though.

The rest of Friday, we walked around the neighborhood of the Guest House, and then hopped on the subway to the CoEx mall- the largest underground mall in Asia.  I think I am in my own little heaven here with the shopping.  There are stores filled top to bottom with just shoes.  Every kind of shoe you could ever think of and more- all in small Shannon sizes.  And there are endless stores with racks and racks of clothes.  It is a little disturbing to see the obsession with "western" here in Korea.  Tiana and Veronica both told us the cosmetic surgery industry is by far the largest- people getting bigger bridges on their noses, eyelid surgery, etc.  Almost every girl/woman I see is wearing at least 3 inch heels at all times (even hiking).  Walking through the mall, it was pretty apparent that the standard of beauty is heavily influenced by tall, blonde, and white characteristics.  This was my standard of beauty growing up, but I have come to a place where I love my asianness (I just made up that word), so it disappoints and discourages me a little to see everyone here trying to change to meet that "standard".

Saturday morning, Keith and I took a walk to the local E-mart to buy an adapter and grab some breakfast.  Another thing about Seoul- it's a city that stays awake all night...and then sleeps in until 10.  Who knew it could be literally impossible to find a coffee shop (or any shop) that is open at 8:30am.  We did find it though- a place called Paris Bakery- a little heaven where asians make french pastries that I can only imagine taste better than when the French themselves do it.  Bashisayo (means delicious in Korean)!  After our morning outing, we took the subway to the north part of Seoul to meet up with Tiana and a friend.  The subway system here is ingenious, easy to navigate, and CHEAP.  Less than $3 for both of us to go to the complete opposite side of the city.  The guest house is located in Gangnam-Gu which is more of a financial and banking district south of the Hahn River.  It is more of the Wall Street of Seoul.  We met Tiana on the north side of the River which she said is considered more old town Seoul, in an area called Gyeongbuk.  I saw my first Korean Palace, the Gyeongbuk Palace located right in the heart of the Gyeongbuk neighborhood.  We also discovered just how few people here speak English.  Tiana explained to us that although Korea is a booming country, the economy grew so quickly that many people still do not speak English here.  I think I expected to feel more uncomfortable with the language barrier, but overall it doesn't bother me much.  Everyone is so helpful, even despite the language barrier.

After seeing the palace, we met Tiana and her friend Mr. Yoo, along with his cousin, for lunch at a "famous" restaurant.  It is a traditional style restaurant with the low tables and floor cushions.  I knew for all these years, my cross-legged sitting would come in handy.  Now I realize it's part of being Korean.  Keith, on the other hand...:) Also, I have always prided myself on my ability to eat large amounts of food in one sitting, but these people are unbelievable.  The food just kept coming and everything, I mean everything, was absolutely delicious.  I've noticed a big difference in the type of full I feel here in comparison to back home.  Back home, when I'm full, I feel like I'm going to explode and need to go into a food coma.  Here, the food makes you feel full, but not gross full.  After a fantastic meal and even better company and conversation, Tiana and Mr. Yoo drove us up to a tea house at the top of a hillside that overlooks the city.  We enjoyed more good drinks and conversation before Mr. Yoo had to leave to catch a flight to Vietnam.  Tiana took us to another look out where you can see the entire city of seoul on all sides.  I tried to take pictures, but they don't do justice to what your eyes are seeing.  After resting at the look out for a bit, we took a walk through the town on the hillside, exploring the little shops and restaurants.  We talked about Korean life, politics, racial tensions.  And I was reminded that we are all the same no matter what side of the world we live on.

Sunday we took the subway to Suwon, where I was born.  Suwon is a suburb of Seoul- although, the city itself is also like a New York City.  The scenery changed as did the look of the people as we got further away from Seoul.  In Seoul, although there are Koreans, it has still been hard for me to see myself in many of the people.  But getting off the train in Suwon, it was the first thing I noticed- I look like these people!  It was the first thing Keith said to me too.  It's a pretty awesome feeling to look around and see yourself and feel like this is your heritage.  We spent the afternoon at a Korean Folk Village in Suwon, learning about the traditional way of life for most Koreans throughout history in farming and fishing villages.  I am so proud of my hard-working ancestors, their creativity and ingenuity, and the simple yet smart ways they lived.  After the folk village, we walked around Suwon for a couple hours, checking out the shops and walking the streets.  I found a street produce and fish market where people were getting their next day's food.  The streets were packed with people and we got a noticeable amount more of staring from everyone.  Like I mentioned before, it has been less uncomfortable than I imagined being an "outsider" and not knowing the language, but the day in Suwon was quite a bit more exhausting with the stares.  The people were a bit more hurried and rushed (Tiana told me Koreans do everything quickly and hurriedly...I am so Korean) and pushy than in Seoul, which surprised me.  But overall, it was a great day with yet another first for me, visiting my birth city.  I want to go back when we come back to Seoul and visit the hospital where I was born.

Yesterday (Monday, October 11), we met with my social worker, Miss Lee.  She is super sweet and kind.  She showed me my file and updated me on my birth family search.  Because my birth mom did not include her birth date in the file, it is much more difficult to do a search for her.  Miss Lee explained that she found a woman with the same name as my birth mom (Shin Soon Yi) in the same town my mother was living in at the time, but upon further investigation has learned that the woman was about ten years older than my mom according to the age she gave when I was born (45) and she has passed away.  Miss Lee mentioned she was going to contact her son and also the hospital my mom was in before giving birth.  I am trying not to get too excited because the amount of information is so limited, but I can't help but keep hoping someone in my family might be located.  She also let me flip through my file with all my medical records, the home study on my parents, and other papers.  When I first flipped to the back, there were still pictures of the first family I had been placed with (I was pulled out at the last minute).  SO weird!  I would have been the youngest of three kids with two older brothers.  They looked nice, but they weren't my family.  Then, I found a picture of me as a baby in the orphanage!  I don't have any pictures of myself before seven months, so I was pretty excited to see my first baby picture.  I was a CHUNKER.  Miss Lee let me keep it.

After the meeting was over, Miss Lee took us over to the Babies Reception Home to hold some of the babies.  It was probably the most surreal part of my trip so far, being in the nursery.  There are about 15 full time staff and then many many volunteers who take care of them.  Unlike when I was in the orphanage, most of the babies are put into foster homes to be cared for until they are adopted.  So the babies in the reception home are those that are waiting to be placed in foster care.  I may be a little biased, but asian babies are the cutest.  They were all very responsive and smiley which comforted me and they are all chunky monkeys too!  My favorite little boy, Shin Kon Yi, is six months old and one of the happiest babies there.  Keith held him for a while and he just smiled and smiled.  I hope he finds a family soon. (I was just a LITTLE tempted to take him)

After we held babies, we were finished packing to leave for Busan to stay with Veronica's mom.  I bent down to pick up a receipt on the floor and threw my neck out again from an injury a few months ago (Don't ask me how the heck I do these things).  Turns out, chiropractors don't exist in Korea because they are illegal.  So now, 24 hours, my first acupuncture and Puhang therapy, and a lot of sleep later, I am still in a lot of pain and trying to figure out the best way to get comfortable for our 3 hour trip down to Busan.  Throwing my neck out sucked, but seeing the way the staff downstairs, my social worker, Tiana, and my friend Veronica (who was up in the middle of the night back in Colorado) were all working so hard to figure out what to do for me makes me so grateful for these gracious people and so proud to be Korean.