New Definition of "Alone in a Crowded Room"

It's kind of surreal living somewhere and not speaking the language. I don't know exactly what I expected, but it's not completely awful. The worst part about not having my Alien Registration Card yet is the inability to communicate with _anyone_. I pretty much have to take complicated plans with people as there is no way I can get any sort of message about where or when to meet. It's also frustrating with people back home - I'm getting quite a demand to call friends and family members, and I don't think they realize that me getting online is either a few minutes because I got to school early, and am on that virus-packed computer, or it's because I managed to find an unstable internet connection at a local coffee shop. I feel guilty that I cannot stay in touch - especially during this first month - but there's really _nothing_ I can do. Korean law states that I have to have proof of residency to start something like an internet account, and I'm still waiting on that. Oh government processing time.

I think about the version of myself in America. I was so addicted to my cell phone and the internet. Here, not being connected is resulting in spending a lot of time alone, something I promised myself that I wouldn't do. I don't mind it so far - it's kind of a weird, adventurous thing, but I'm wondering when it will all seep in and I'll start getting lonely. I wish I was brave enough to walk up to Americans here and say, "Hi, I'm new in town and have no friends. What are you doing after work?" I'm still not sure if foreigners are allowed to band that kind of stranger connection (this is reminding me of Dr. Wilson's Sci Fi class - the whole thing about The Other), or if we're supposed to be trying to blend in. I see lots of foreigners together in this town - or walking around alone with a sense of confidence like they either don't need people, or are on their way to meet the scads of friends they already have (and don't need anymore, thank you), and it reminds me that I only know seven other people in this town. Maybe in Suji we're only supposed to hang with people from our own hagwon. If I weren't totally frightened out of my mind of getting lost, I'd attempt to seek out my training buddies, who I think are probably more in this whole, "I'm trying to meet people and be social" newness in Korea.

There are so many couples in this coffee shop. Every girl in Korea has a boyfriend. Ugh - that is something I definitely don't envy..

Holy god, if my parents are reading this, please be advised that I am not as miserable as I actually seem - that my coworkers are freaking wonderful and are doing a great job teaching me how to get around. Today, when we left Suji to go to a late lunch, Thanh and Dan pointed out the subway stops and bus numbers that get me back to Suji. A few days ago, Lisa gave me a subway map in English. I'm just sad because in two weeks, three of my coworkers, who make up the majority of our dinner plans, are leaving and I feel that means I should be officially over my New Girl phase and know how to do things like get around outside of Suji and order food for myself. It will actually be good that we're getting three new people as they'll be like me in wanting to get out and explore, as opposed to already having all that wandering worked out of their systems.

I feel like I need to be like Samantha in that last episode of Sex and the City - where she wipes her eyes and says, "Okay ladies, let's [perk up]. I'd like to show my face here again."

I'm labeling this post "pre-departure" for a reason: If I could go back and change anything, it would be learning hangul. Even if you don't know the actual spoken language, knowing how to read is insanely helpful when navigating the subway/buses, or trying to order in restaurants.

In happier news, I updated the photos in my Mobile Me gallery..