I have decided not to whine any more about the weather. I have just realized that most of the northern hemisphere is suffering from cold and ice and snow. I am riding the school van to and from school so I don’t have to walk on the icy and snow-slick roads and sidewalks thanks to my bosses and bus drives and bus monitors at Spring School. They all look after me and help me over the icy parts. Yes, i feel old and feeble, but, it’s very kind of them to care.

The Grandmothers came for dinner this evening. For a week my family and I have been in a discussion: what to fix–chicken and dumplings or chili. The cold, snow, and ice spell that has hit Korea had just about narrowed it down to chili: to get a chicken I would have to got to Hyundai Department Store grocery, about ten blocks away, and lug it home, as well as other ingredients. I could get ground meat at the organic food store, with organic prices, on the corner. J.J. had sent me some taco and some fajita seasoning, so I figured by combining the two I would come pretty close to chili.

Friday I got a hair cut and on the way home stopped at the new GS grocery–the one that was being completely renovated the last time I wanted to buy a chicken. This time, the meat counter was intact, and it had chicken and chopped beef. I bought both. This way, per family request, I had a choice. So when I got home, I made both: chicken and dumplings and chili.

I am forever in the debt of the ladies in the English class I worked with in Hungary: they taught me to make dumplings. Gathering unfamiliar ingredients to make a familiar dish is appos pos here: much guess work. But it worked out fine.

My house and therefore the stairwell of my apartment building reeked of chili and boiling chicken. The steam raised the temperature in my apartment to where the heat was coming from above as well as below the heated floors.

Four of the “Grandmothers”–they’re not all grandmothers, but some of them are and some are my children’s age–came bearing gifts: fresh strawberries, fresh tomatoes, an elegant, hand made tea set, and a six pack of Maegoli–a carbonated rice wine that I have come to love more than beer. I had cleaned, mopped, hidden, and put away most of what gets in the way in my apartment–an excellent exercise for me since I will soon be leaving and need to get all this in perspective.

We talked, we laughed, we looked at the pictureS J.J. had put on the digital picture frame for me–I think they have made me more of a real person for the Grandmothers, a person with a family and a past. Thanks, J.

We ate hor d’ouvres: olives, chips and Pace piquante sauce, candied pecans from Linda’s mom–a real hit–, and roased peanutes in the shell. Again, we talked, we laughed, we ate.

For dinner we moved into the kitchen–me in a chair and they on the floor (I would do the floor, but my getting up is not a pretty picture). Most chose the chicken and dumplings. I was surprised. I thought Koreans liked spicy food. Mrs. Han is just back from Austin, which she loved. Sunny was interested in the books I had asked her to go through to find ones she wanted. Mrs. Kim talked about the Lunar New Year. Mrs. Ann and I talked about the music I had going on iTunes on my computer.

Then, I passed out paper and asked them to write down and draw a picture of what they would like me to tell Americans about Korea. Their answers and drawings give such an interesting perspective on Korean culture, history, and life. Thank you, Ladies. You have given me much food for thought as to what to share about this country and its people.

Jasmine tea and Korean coffee along with the Tiramisu Mrs. Kim had brought and the apple coffeee cake I had bought, brought the evening to a close.

It was so good to see them comfortable in my home, enjoying my culinary labors, and laughing, talking, translating among themselves. These ladies have brought me so much of an insight into Korea, its culture, and its people. They have helped to create so many memories. All I can say is thank you—-and why didn’t you try the chile??

I know, I know, I just wrote about how cold it is here. But—it really is cold!

Monday, it snowed all day long. Korea saw the most snow it has seen since 1939. There was no place for the snow to go. Shop keepers tried to shovel it off the side walk and into the street, but then there was the problem of where would the cars go. The piles on the side of the street were huge. I didn’t even venture out of the house on Monday. I know. Chicken, opportunity for history in the making, etc. But it was cold! and it was slippery! and I liked being warm and cozy inside. So no historian here.

Tuesday morning I started at 6:30 a.m. once again trying to get a taxi to work. No taxi. I called Hace and she and a van driver, Mr. Kim, who bring the children to school, came to may apartment and picked me up. Suited me just fine! It’s cold and icy and snowy and slick out there. One slip and “bam!” I could be down with a broken whatever! Did I mention that I am OLD! and FRAGILE!

The kids all seemed to be excited to be back at school and with so many stories to tell: sled rides, snowball fights with Dad, vacation trips to islands, vacation trips to Hong Kong, making snowmen with brother or father. They had lots of good stories for show and tell.

Getting home that evening was another adventure. No, the day didn’t warm up. The snow and the ice were still prevalent. I wandered out to the major street near the school thinking I would hail a taxi. HAH! All the taxis that came my way were full. I tried for almost twenty minutes and gave up and started walking home. The walk that usually takes me twenty minutes took me over an hour. Now, picture this: I have on a camel colored wool coat that is about three sizes too big–it’s huge. I’m bundled up in scarves and caps and gloves so that only two, brown eyes are exposed. And I walk, with eyes constantly downcast, like a penguin. Yep, it seems to be the safest shuffle I can find to contend with the ice and slick snow and the snow drifts. I must truly be a sight, but what the heck! I am one person in a city of eleven million. Few people know me. Few people even care. So I shuffle along, old lady Maxine style just hoping to get to my destination with all bones in tact.

Today, Wednesday, doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Although the major roads are cleared of snow thanks to the military and city people working overtime with front end loaders and dump trucks removing all the snow–that isn’t melting very fast since the temperature isn’t going above freezing, the side streets are still filled with snow tracks and huge piles on the curbs. I saw three cars spinning out, trying to get some traction on these streets. The tracks themselves are very slick, and places I almost fell a couple of times. Of all the shoes, I am wearing my Crocodiles to get to and from work. They have the most traction and the widest foot base of anything I own. Besides, they’re waterproof! However, I still walk like a penguin. Amazing how we relate to animal nomenclature in difficult circumstances. Guess they have it all figured out in the first place.

I did make it to the post office before making my way home. And as the bread shop that I like to buy from is close, I stopped in and bought a few half loaves of walnut bread, and apple tart, and a small loaf of whole grain bread that was still warm. Needless to say, that’s what I had for supper. It was wonderful. Korean bread is very different from U.S. bread, and to find whole grain is truly a FIND.

All points were extremely hard going. I called off my tutoring session simply because the walk was absolutely treacherous. As I get older, I realize how my center of gravity and balance have shifted. I also realize how one fall can be doom. So the penguin walk may become my standard
method of perambulatory exigence.

Did I mention: “It’s cold outside!”

The Year of the Tiger is here. I’m trying to get used to saying twenty-ten. My sister and I had this big discussion of whether it should be two thousand ten or twenty-ten. As she explained, “We wouldn’t have said one thousand nine hundred ten. That whole century we said nineteen whatever.” Looking at it that way, I can go with twenty-ten. I guess twenty oh nine wouldn’t have worked, but now that we’re into numbers ten and above, it does sound right.

It’s cold here. Today, (it’s Monday here even though Xanga says Sunday–international date line and all) one of the warmest days of this week according to the forecast, the temperature will be from five to twenty-four degrees, and it’s snowing–hard. I started trying to get a taxi to work at 6:30 this morning, thinking if I started calling early I could get one by 8:30. About 7:30 the taxi company called and said they couldn’t come. They may have said they weren’t putting taxis out at all, but I’m not sure–broken English, cell phone static, etc. I called the school to say I wasn’t coming in unless it warmed up and I could get a taxi. My walk is over pretty slick sidewalks and streets, so it just doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. About 9 the school called and said classes are canceled.

So “This Day Is Mine.” (My favorite Jerry Reed song–or one of my favorites.)

I thought I would write a little, maybe download all my pictures from Vietnam and Cambodia, read on “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” which I am loving, swill hot tea, make soup, get out my winter clothes, wash clothes, knit on the scarf I’m working on, listen to the radio on iTunes, etc.

I need to go to the American Embassy to get some more pages for my passport–I’m completely out–some countries go crazy with those stamps–but that involves a subway or taxi and a walk and I don’t want to do either or any of those. That will have to wait for another day. It’s just that my “other days” are getting fewer.

Yesterday I met Bonnie for brunch at Pancake Square and we went on to the National Museum of Korea to see the Inca exhibit. We took a taxi from Apgujeong since on the map on the internet it looked like it was quite a walk from the subway to the Museum and did I mention, “It’s cold outside!” We had a very nice cab driver who spoke no English, but tried really hard. I had written down the phone number of the Museum, so he called for directions and got us there just fine, although there were moments we thought we were going too far and in the wrong direction, that he thought we had said Incheon–the place where McArthur landed–instead of Ichon, but he did it right.

The exhibit was really good. The only problem with museums in Korea is there is little to no English. The titles on the labels have some English and a few of the introductory posters have English, but none of the individual explanations do and none of the books in the museum store are in English. I had bought a book at YB Bookstore on Saturday called “Horrible Histories: Incredible Incas” that is written for children to make history more interesting. So we kept looking up stuff in my book and reading along with the exhibits–and giggling because the authors look for the unique and the humor in history. Lots of beautiful, intact pottery, textiles that have retained their color, gold and tourquoise jewelry, huge ear plugs that men wore fashionably in their ear lobes–the bigger the plug and the longer the lobe stretch the higher in the pecking order,– weapons, mummies, and instruments used in sacrificial rites–at least I think that’s what it all was according to the few titles and Horrible History.

I have yet to blog about my trip, maybe today. I have had to have a few days to sleep and put into some sort of perspective the overwhelming amount of sites and information I absorbed in four days and two countries. So later.