Monday, November 12, 2012

Second World Problems #2

This is the second installment of Second World Problems. Living in Korea creates some very unique problems, many times things I had never considered before. Although most of these are not real "problems" in the traditional sense, they are generally funny issues that I am working out on my own time.
  • In the morning, my bathroom smells like kimchi. I'm not sure if that's because I am beginning to smell like kimchi or if it's the neighbor's fault.
  • My washing machine, which sits in my sunroom-strip, drains directly onto the floor, where the water, after sitting for a bit, goes down the drain in the center of the "room." This has several consequences--tile floor slick with laundry detergent + clumsy fool = near-concussed status, a rather large collection of lint built up on the lower portions of the walls, etc.
  • I may be moving apartments because my boss (a full-fledged Korean woman) is confused by the bills. Which I happen to be confused by, as well, I had just hoped that being Korean gave you an upper-hand in this matter. Turns out, it doesn't.
  • I've been losing weight. Turns out, if you mainly eat rice, vegetables and potentially poisonous doses of tuna, you'll lose weight. Considering writing a book called The Korea Diet and making millions. Also, I realize this is not really a problem.
  • There is no concept of "appropriate working hours." This morning, I was woken up at 6 a.m. by people drilling in my apartment stairwell. Of course, now that it's 9, they've decided they can't possibly interrupt breakfast with their shenanigans. That would just be rude.
  • Life as a foreigner here is a little like summer camp. It is an impermanent state of being, with friends perpetually coming and going, experiences rushing past in a flood too quickly to capture individually, and a host of activities that you might never partake in your daily life, but it's obviously this span of a person's life they are going to remember forever. It's a really special feeling to know that you're a part of another person's memories in such a purposeful way. It's also very cool to know that the people I'm forming bonds with now will be people I remember as making this experience worthwhile.


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