Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Second-World Problems

  • I don't actually know my address because I still cannot read Korean fluently enough to read it off of other people's mail at my apartment building quickly enough before I get walked in on looking like the new "creepy waygookin" since my building has zero signage telling me where I live--and even if it did, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between that and a sign for a "Beauty Hair Shop."

  • I don't know how to take out my trash. There are no dumpsters/largeish trashcans around. Every so often, seemingly without rhyme or reason, trash bags will accumulate on street corners nowhere near my apartment. I'm torn between taking my trash to one of these street piles or allowing it to build up in my apartment for days months on end until I look like a hoarder.

  • Secondary trash problem: Korea composts. So food trash can't be thrown out with regular trash. This complicates my trash problem further because I can't even begin to fathom where I would throw out food trash. My only solution thus far has been to eat all my food, even if I'm not hungry and even if it tastes bad. Not sure what I'll do when this is no longer a viable option.

  • Construction hazards. There is construction on the main road I use to walk to school. Almost daily, there is a piece of heavy machinery moving its several-tons-worth of dangly bits amongst pedestrians--not a hard-hat in sight and rarely adequate supervision. Today, the entire sidewalk portion was cordoned off, forcing us to dodge in and out of vehicles whose drivers attempted to squeeze their cars into the assigned pedestrian walkway. It ended in a lot of metal-to-concrete screeching and old ladies hopping along cement barricades. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

  • Sometimes, after weighing the pros and cons of first: finding a restaurant with food I feel like eating, second: a place with adequate photos for me to know what I'm ordering, third: attempting to order, fourth: eating with the highly likely possibility of embarrassing myself further, and fifth: enduring the endless stares from not-so-subtle children/adjummas/anyone, I'll decide to just go home and gorge myself on my now-dwindling Costco-sized box of Reeses.

Despite my "second-world problems," I seriously love it here. Where else could I get such awesome fodder for blog content??


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