one man's trash is another woman's free dresser.

so tonight i was on my home from my 14 k run with hannah (she is training for a half marathon and i am helping her) and what do my little eyes spy in the trash just one building away from mine? a beautiful wooden cabinet. that beautiful wooden cabinet is now residing in the corner of my little apartment, happy to be recognized by someone as not-trash-worthy. i bet all of these dressers, tables, bikes, desks, chairs, and speakers just LOVE when foreign people come around. just like i love all the crazy looks i get from all the koreans everytime i lug another piece of owned-by-another furniture out of the garbage up to my second floor apartment. it's like i've just invited the plague to come live with me. the security gaurds in my building just laugh and smile at me everytime i run out my building yelling "anyong haseyo!" (hello.) they are these little old korean men and they have nicknamed me super man after watching me carry loads of groceries, desks, my bike, etc. up the stairs with (GOD FORBID!) no help from a man. so when i walk by now, they all laugh and point and call the others and say "ooooohhhh! superman! ooooohhh!" and then they strike a muscle pose and i correct them and say "superwoman actually" and strike my muscle pose back. they get a huge kick out of it.

so this week i have attempted to tackle my washing machine. if you'll look closely at these pictures, i hope you will agree that washing machines are not supposed to have this many options, this many buttons, this many words in KOREAN! so i chose a setting, pushed a button, and opened the little container that i assume is for detergent. there is a #1 slot and a #2 slot. which one is for detergent!?! what's the second one for!?!? so i throw a little detergent in both and hope for the best, push start and away it goes. a few minutes in, i found another towel to throw in, so i attempt to open the door. after nearly breaking my back and screaming words of hatred, i realized the door locks once press start. ok. deep breath. 30 minutes in, i'm sitting on my couch and i start hearing this deep rumbling that gets louder and louder and all i could think was "it's gonna blow." it sounded like giant bouncy ball made of metal had emerged from the depths of my overly-complicated korean washer and with each spin was pounding hole after hole into the walls of the machine that was supposed to be gently handling my clothing with care. an hour and 37 minutes later, my load was done. AN HOUR AND 37 MINUTES!!! have you ever heard of one load of laundry taking that long? so i pull it out, soaking wet, and turned my apartment into a giant drying rack. the next morning, i awoke with the wonderful anticipation of clean clothes only to find that my freshly cleaned clothes were hard as rocks. so i put my brick clothing on and headed to school. add to the shopping list: fabric softener.

here's some traditional korean food for you. this is called a korean barbeque and they are everywhere. there is a hole in the middle of the table and they put flaming coals underneath and give you raw meat and vegetables and away you go. i think i ate more pork tuesday night than i have in the past 8 years combined.



this is one of my co-teachers mary as we put are 38th piece of pork into our mouths. nothing like eating an entire pig to remind me why i don't eat red meat.