Welcome to Nokdong

I am currently living in the town of Nokdong. It is on the southern tip of South Korea, in the county of Goheung. I live on the 6th floor of our 10 floor building. We are surrounded by the ocean (so we eat a lot of fish). Out my back window, I can see the ocean as well as farm plots. Rice fields are everywhere. The rice will be harvested soon.

Dear Veterans, Thank you.

There are some things that just come out of left field and takes my breath away.
I bought a pillow last Thursday. I was tired of sleeping with my head at a right angle, so I stopped in the open air market on the way back from Geumsan island. I picked out a pretty green pillow and paid 6,000 Won. As the store owner put it in a bag, I saw the other shop-keepers around him shouting and pointing across the street. I decided not to look. People are shouting all the time in a language I can't understand, so it probably would be of no interest to me. I snagged the bag and turned my bike around.
"Chogi!" the pillow-seller said, tapping my shoulder and pointing across the street.
I glanced across the street and saw more shops and more adjumas. "Okay, uh, thanks," I said and put one foot on the pedal.
The pillow man jerked my arm and pointed again. "Chogi!"
Then I saw him - an old man, squatting on the ground, a hat on his bald head and green sleeves on his arms, waving me over. Hesitantly, I walked my bicycle across the street and he stood up, smiling.
"Annyeonghashimnika," I said, bowing over my handlebars.
He grabbed my shoulders in a surprisingly strong grip and pushed me upright. He caught my free hand with both of his and pumped it up and down. He spoke at length in Korean, keeping my hand the whole time. I tried to focus on the words, hoping for some clue as to what he was talking about. I caught the word "migook" and I nodded, confirming that I came from America. He got sort of teary-eyed and repeated two words over and over.
"Army. Kamsahamnida. Army. Kamsahamnida."
It was as if a bolt of lightening hit my spine. He was thanking me for the U.S. sending soldiers over during the Korean War. I wasn't even alive at the time, and he was thanking me. I looked around at the now-formed crowd around us. They were all older people, probably in their late forties or early fifties. Each person beamed a smile at me and nodded as I met their eyes. I felt incredibly humbled. I honestly didn't know what to say.
With so much bad press about the U.S. military, it came as quite a shock to hear that someone was actually grateful for our help.
I left the open-air market in a daze, reviewing the whole scene in my head. By the time I had pedaled to my apartment, I had decided that this gentleman was quite an anomaly. That will be the first and only time someone shows gratitude to the United States, I thought.
Two days later, I was proved wrong.
I was at the Goheung bus terminal with two Canadian teachers and a teacher from Colorado. We stood between two crowded benches, hoping the rain would stop so we could enjoy our destination - a ferry ride to Yoseu. One foreigner in the Korean countryside garners a lot of attention and four foreigners are considered a circus. Old ladies stared and whispered, old men glared, teenagers giggled at our attempts at conversation, and small children looked at us in wide-eyed wonder.
I was damp, hot and irritable. My good mood had evaporated and I just wanted to leave. I was sick of being gawked and laughed at, so when I heard someone say "Migook?" I wasn't exactly pleased.
I sighed and turned around.
Four very small, very old ladies stood there, each of them beaming a huge smile. I backed up a step.
"Odi?" the lady right in front of me asked.
G pointed to herself. "Canada." Then she pointed to me. "Migook."
"Ahhhh, Migook!" the four ladies exclaimed.
One grabbed my hand and kissed it. Another one hugged me around the waist. The other two crowded around me and patted my arm. They all spoke over each other. The only words I could catch were "army," "Migook," and "Kamsahamnida." Once again, people were thanking me for the U.S. soldiers.
Each of the four ladies gave me one last hug and then retreated to the air-conditioned waiting room. V and G, the Canadian teachers, looked at me.
"Wow," V said. "They're thanking you for helping out in the Korean War."
Tears pricked my eyes, but I pretended my eyeballs were sweating. "Yeah," I said.
So, I wanted to deliver this Thank You to all the veterans. If it weren't for you, this country might be something different and - perhaps - something frightening. For your sacrifices, South Korea says Thank you.
So do I.

The Dangers of Asian Medicine

Yesterday, I went on a 1 hour bicycle ride at 1:00 in the afternoon with no hat and no sunblock. Don't ask why, just accept it as fact and move on. My face and chest turned bright red and was hot to the touch. I wanted some aloe vera gel, but it is apparently quite difficult to find in Korean stores. Aloe vera juice, sure; aloe vera gel, no.

I travelled to Goheung that night to have dinner in town with the rest of the Goheung-gun teachers and asked if anyone knew where I could get some aloe vera gel.

"Just go in that pharmacy," one teacher said, pointing, "and say 'aloe vera.' They'll know what you mean."

So, I walked up the steps, and one of the pharmacists who had been standing outside, opened the door and beckoned me inside.

I patted my face and smoothed my fingers over my forehead and cheeks. "I need some aloe vera," I said. "Aloe vera?"

The man nodded and mimicked me. "Aloe vera," he repeated, nodding. He said something to the man behind the counter and pointed at my face.

The man (I assume he was another pharmacist), got something from the back counter, pulled a small bottle (maybe 6 ounces) of liquid from the fridge, and beckoned with his hand. I held out my hand and he dumped about twenty brown, round pellets into my hand. They looked an awful lot like mini Co-Co Puffs.

I stared at them for a moment. Had he not understood? Could he not see my completely red face?

"Okaaaay," I said. "What is this? Aloe vera?"

He tipped his hand to his mouth, miming Co-Co Puffs consumption.

I looked down at my hand. "Aloe vera?" I tried again, as if repetition was the key. "For my face?"

The pharmacist smiled and pointed at my hand.

"Just eat it, huh?" I shrugged and tipped them into my mouth.

The man unscrewed the lid to the bottle and passed it to me. I would have said "thank you," but my mouth was full of mystery pills. I tipped the bottle back, letting the liquid wash over my tongue and carry the pills down my throat. It wasn't until after I had swallowed the liquid that I actually tasted it - it was aloe vera juice.

I coughed and gagged. The man on my side of the counter slapped me on the back in a helpful, don't-die sort of way. Bad business if a customer chokes and dies on the pill the pharmacist provided.

I put the bottle on the counter. "Got it. Heal from the inside out, right?"

The pharmacist grinned and nodded. I don't know if he understood what I had said or he was just being friendly. Then he held out two fingers which I took to mean my treatment came to 2,000 Won. I snagged two bills out of my wallet and passed them over.

"Thanks!" I said, backing out of the pharmacy. "Kamsahamnida!"

I stood on the steps of the pharmacy for a moment, re-playing the last couple of minutes.

"Did you get what you wanted?" someone asked.

"Um . . ." I said, not quite sure how to answer. I did ask for aloe vera, so, technically, I did get what I wanted. "It was liquid. I drank it."

"Ah," teacher 1 said. "I forgot that they drink it here."

We moved down the street, heading for pizza.

"If I have any weird side-effects, it's because of that pharmacy," I announced and relayed what had happened inside.

"You just ate it? Without knowing what it was?" teacher 2 said.

Well, when you put it that way, it does sound sort of reckless. However, I eat food everyday without knowing what it is, so how is that different?

"You should ask for a translater, next time," she advised.

"Yeah," I agreed, but I don't plan on having a next time.