14 weeks to go

Well, as of today I have officially been living in Chicago for two weeks and I’ve been attending The French Pastry School’s L’Art du Gâtaeu program for a week now. I have completed my sanitation course  (and hopefully passed the test because if I didn’t I’m going to feel like the dumbest person on the planet) with probably the greatest 72-year-old man ever. For those of you who went to Mississippi College and had the pleasure of taking a Cliff Fortenberry class, you understand how funny his jokes are. This gem of man was right up to those standards. 

            What kind of animal is on an official document?

            A seal!

I mean, that’s a quality joke. I used to laugh so hard in Uncle Cliff’s class and he always used to say “Working for that A?” Well, I didn’t get an A. Should have laughed more. But that’s neither here nor there. My sanitation instructor last week, he was a funny one too. I sat on the very back row of like 60 plus people and I was just cackling the whole time. And you guys know how loud and obnoxious and distinctive my laugh is. But I couldn't help it. I don’t remember much about sanitation (jk chefs, I remember everything) but I remember how much of good time we had. At one point he came back to me during a break and asked me not to laugh so hard because it encouraged him and we couldn’t cover the material if he kept telling jokes. I was like, well don’t be so funny and I won’t laugh, ya know. I mean, if you can have a good time in a sanitation class, that’s saying something. That’s saying a lot.

I’m loving school. It’s the only thing I’m doing, so good thing I like it. On the weekend I usually just alternate between sitting or laying on the floor in my apartment. But I'm not bored with that yet. I won’t lie, I was little intimated and overwhelmed the first few days of classes. It’s just so much crammed into 16 weeks. And my feet hurt by 10 o’clock and two months ago I was still asleep at 10 o’clock. But I wake up at 4:30 every morning and I’m not mad. You would think that waking up at 4:30 (the first one, not the second one) would make someone angry, but I’m relatively excited about my day. 

And I will tell you, even if I end up being the worst cake decorator in the history of the world (I really need that not to happen considering the financial burden this is) I won't regret the decision of coming to The French Pastry School. I miss Korea a lot and my students more. Maybe more than I've ever missed any place I've ever left. (Except for my home, Pop. I always miss home <3 ) But as far as schools go, FPS may be the greatest place. (and no one is paying me to say this) I just know that a lot of people at home don't know anything about this school and sometimes I know you people think I'm crazy because I just find things on the internet and I'm like oh I'll go there! and granted, I am kind of like that. But let me validate my decisions for you. First of all, my chef instructors are more than qualified, but what has impressed me the most is how they treat each of the students. Now of course I'm expected to be respectful and do what I'm told but I don't feel like they look at me like I'm a cockroach. And my realm of culinary professionals is not vast, it's actually quite small, but I've been looked at like I'm a cockroach by some chefs before. But not here. Now who I really want to brag on are the admissions and financial aid and marketing staff. Not only were they phenomenal enough to work with me while I was in Korea and skype me because I couldn't call or come visit, but I've been there for a week and I can walk into the office and they know my name. They knew my name in less than a week. You know how schools always say, you're not just a number to us, you're a real person blah blah blah...well they said it too. And then yesterday when I went into the office because I had a problem with my transit card they didn't ask me my name. Because they knew it.  Oh, so when you say we're not a just a number we're a real person you meant that we're a real person. Cool. And then today I had to go for this little meeting to sign some papers and stuff and they talked to me about being on the phone with my mom and were like we love southern moms. And I'm just like, you know who my mom is. I may be a terrible cake decorated when this is all over, but these people are nice, and intentional, and fantastic at their job. So there's that. 

It's still cold in Chicago. I'm not sure why harsh winter follows me. But come visit anyway. 

xoxo

I'm still cold.

Last winter I moved to Korea and they had the coldest winter in 27 years. Thursday I moved to Chicago in the middle of a blizzard with the most snow and coldest temperatures in the last 30 years. (Blizzard may or may not be an exaggeration.) I can’t even plan the kind of misery I find myself in. My orientation for school was scheduled to start tomorrow, but it has been cancelled due to “inclement weather.” So I guess tomorrow I’ll just sit on my yoga mat and eat some yogurt. It’ll be fun.

Despite the freezer like atmosphere I have been out and about. Ya know, trying to figure this place out. I think I’m having more culture shock here than I ever did in Seoul. A man asked me today if I shoveled my own snow. I think that’s kind of like, do you grow your own vegetables. I mean, it’s gotta be done, so do you do it, or does somebody do it for you.

 I will never down play the brutality of my winter in Seoul. It was cold, in every sense of the word. And I will never get over the shocking period of time I had to wear socks. However, it was a nice precursor to the agony I just walked into. But the snow here. Yall. The Snow. I don’t like snow. I woke up yesterday morning and my calves were on fire. Burning. I know I ain’t exercised. What is wrong with me? Oh yeah! I haven’t walked on solid ground in four days! Dumb. Just dumb.

I’m happy with the apartment. Sometimes you just don’t know what you’re gonna get when you literally just put the address into the rented GPS and drive to it on the first day you move in. But I don’t have too many complaints. It’s definitely a step up from where I was. And Pedro, my maintenance man, is nice and helpful. He did however expect me to be Chinese when he knocked on my door Friday. Somewhere down the line I had become the girl from China instead of the girl from Korea. No, not from either one of those countries. Pedro did ask me if I was from Alabama. Close, but no cigar, Pedro!

Well, hopefully after tomorrows sub zero temperatures I will still have working appendages and be able to continue this blog.

xoxo

Coming home: the struggle

Y'all. It's the morning of the 5th day at home. I'm still waking up anywhere between 2 am and 4 am and lay in my bed and read Harry Potter and Pinterest for a while. Then try to sleep. Then read and goggle weird things again. Then by the time my parents are home from work I've decided it's time for my "nap" which really means I sleep until 11 pm or so and then repeat the whole Harry Potter internet scene and the process just keeps repeating. I haven't had dinner with my parents since I've been home. My body has no idea where it is. And I keep having these really strange dreams that I'm still teaching at my school but my students are not tiny Koreans, they are family and friends. Talk about worlds colliding. I try to spend my mornings being really productive so I don't feel like I'm watching Sons of Anarchy ALL day. So far I've cleaned a lot of things out of my closet at my parents house. Things from college that I have no idea why I still have. (Everything from shoes to coffee cups. If you know of anyone in  need of some household things and clothes, I've got them.) I have washed and dried and folded and hung every piece of clothing I had with me in Korea. That was amazing and very time consuming. Dryers. What a dream. Joshua thought I was crazy because I would just kind of bury my face in my clothes. They were just so warm, and elastic, and dry. I have changed both bake elements in the oven. Look at me go. With my excellent critical thinking skills and help of the internet I am going to make it so far in life. I have decorated the house for Christmas. I have cleaned the filters in our dishwasher. (um, gross). And everything. single. gosh. darn. day I have emailed and searched and sent and prayed and hoped and wished for an apartment and a job. But nobody wants to rent to me because I'm unemployed. and nobody wants to hire me because I don't have a Chicago address. The struggle is real, people. It is real. But, on a positive note, in the last five days I have eaten dill pickles, turkey, and several different pumpkin flavored products. And that's worth coming home for. If anyone wants to come out to Elwood and see me, we can watch Netflix and I'll show you the picture of the gross dishwasher filters. (No I won't, mom.)

coming home

A lot has happened in the past twelve months. A lot of things are different now. I used to only wear plain white socks. Now I prefer pretty socks. Stripes, polka dots, a nice Aztec pattern. I used to think that downloading movies and television shows is wrong. And I still do. ;) Thanks to Arrested Development I used to only know one word of the Korean language. Now, I know like 15. Since monsoon season, I pretty much always have an umbrella on my person. Rain, sleet, snow. Bring it. I used to drop my sushi when I would eat with chopsticks. And not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty proficient at eating with two sticks. Don’t even need a fork. Skin care is oddly a bigger part of my life. I used to be scared of large crowds. Now large crowds are scared of me. But the best thing about this year is that I have this whole new place and all these new people in my life. Some things about this year have been hard. I won’t stand here (I’m actually sitting, but that’s not a thing people say) and tell you that leaving everything you’ve ever known to jump into a career that you’ve never done before is a walk in the park. But it was worth every struggle. It was worth every night I missed home, every hard day at work, every day I would have given all of my arms for a sonic drink. I didn’t get to be a part of a lot of things that happened at home. I think every friend I’ve ever had growing up got married or had a baby this year. And that part is sad. As soon as someone invents instantaneous travel I am gonna be all over that junk. But this year has been so good. I’ve spent more time alone this year than I think I ever have. And as scary as it is for it to just be me and my thoughts, I’ve seen so much and learned so much. I learned about myself, about God, a little more about being Jesus to ALL people, not just the people who already love and accept you. About being independent and being able to ask for help at the same time. Oh gosh, and I still have so much learning to do. And y’all, there were days when work was just down right frustrating and I just wanted to tell some people that they didn’t know what they were doing and go home. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. That would have been stupid. And at the end of all this being at the bottom of the totem pole, I really think (I hope) I’m a better employee. And if you ask some of my old bosses (and my mother) they might tell you I have a slight problem with authority and I might roll my eyes sometimes if I think you’re crazy. Hopefully, I roll my eyes less now.

It’s currently Wednesday night for me. I have two days left at the academy and I fly out on Sunday. 4 more days. All you people at home, I’m so ready to see your pretty faces and hug you for an uncomfortable amount of time. And I do not doubt my decision to pursue pastry school or move to Chicago. I’m just a little bit sad right now. When I say little bit I mean lot a bit. I’ll never see these students again. My friends here, maybe I’ll see them again. But some of these people, who have been a significant part of me, may never cross my path again. I don’t think I’ll ever out grow this itch for adventure and new places. But I also don’t think I’ll ever out grow the struggle it is for me when an adventure is finished.

But right now I need to go clean out my Frigidaire.

So, to my people in Korea, you’ve made me better. I miss you already. Thank you for tolerating me.

To Mississippi, you are my home, and I am ready to see you.

Also, if anyone would like to bring a squash casserole and a sonic root beer to the airport, I will promise you my first born.

See you soon! xoxo

My washer broke.

Last week I had a couple days off. I don't get many vacation days and I always tell myself I'm going to have these grand adventures in the city. However, what usually happens is that I sleep late, watch an entire season of some ridiculous tv series and do my laundry. That's exactly what happened last week. The only time I left my apartment last Wednesday was to walk downstairs to the storage room where my washing machine is. Typically for a foreign teacher whose school provides housing, the apartment is furnished with a washer. But I don't have a washer in house, so my sweet landlords allow me to use an extra one they keep in the storage room. It's not convenient, but it gets the job done and I'm thankful to not have had to buy one. Dryers are not a household appliance in this part of the world, so you hang your clothes to dry. Sometimes it's annoying that you can't just throw your jeans in the dryer and run off to work. But you get really resourceful with heated floors and hair dryers. So, with all that said, last week while I was enjoying not grading papers and not having children ask me about my boyfriend who lives on the farm, (Not because he's a farmer, which would be perfectly acceptable. But because he's a pig. Yeah, my kind and uplighting children like to say my boyfriend is a pig. And not like a slob. Like an animal. Like an oink oink pig. They make the sound and everything. I hate them.) I decided to wash a load of clothes. I set out thinking it would be a normal, mundane task. I'd been using this washer for almost a year. I had memorized which buttons to press (because naturally, on a Korean washer the words will be in Hangul) to choose the right setting. No big deal, the internet is very handy. Anyway, so my clothes are washing and I set a timer on my phone for when they'd be finished and ran back up to the apartment to piddle around. And then about an hour later my timer went off and I happily bounced down the stairs to grab my clean clothes. But what I found was a washer full of water. Eh, no need to panic yet. So I turn it off. Press the spin cycle button. Nothing. I repeat this process about 37 times. I unplug it. I plug it back in. Surely this thing can just be reset. It's fine. Well it wasn't fine. I even googled "how to use a Korean washer" just to double check I'd done everything correctly. I try to start the wash over again. Nothing happens. It just makes this weird churning noise. So I do the only thing I have left to do. I go knock on my landlord's door. My landlord is overly excited I'm in his doorway. And I'm just distressed.
"Washer! Storage room! Broken! Help!"
"Okay, okay okay. I look. But Joyce, me no engineer."
So we walk down together. He does the same thing I did. Then he looks at me says,
"I can't fix. I tell my wife. We come see you."
Alright, so he and his wife show up my door about 9 o'clock. They have already been to reexamine the broken washer and they report back to me that it cannot be fixed. So my landlords are going to take my sopping wet clothes out of my washer, take them upstairs to their apartment and rewash them for me and replace my washer the next day. Now doesn't that just sound great? Free laundry service. And she returned it my door. I didn't even have to go get it.
 UM NO! IT'S NOT GREAT. MY KOREAN LANDLORD WASHED MY PANTIES AND IT WAS COMPLETELY EMBARRASSING!
 Okay, on the other side of the situation, I'm not sure why it was so petrifying. Having a sweet 50 year old Korean lady landlord wash my underwear was just not in the plans. She didn't even let me help her. I reached my hand in the broken washer to ring out the water and she slapped my hand away! She said, "No, no! I do! I ajumma, you know?!"
I do know. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm wrong.

So, the moral of this story is: If you super sweet and helpful Korean landlord ever has to wash your underwear, just keep your head up and say kamsahamnida. This can be survived. At least she didn't make any jokes about how big they are. My students definitely would have done that. "Teacher so big! hahahaha!" I hate them.