Well, still freakin' tired, but have just had a new burst of energy brought on by my dad coming home with groceries, including some Pepperidge Farm cookies. Cookies! Haven't had those for a while.

So yesterday I wrote all this stuff, and lost it all, and was very very frustrated, so I went to bed. Now, I am wondering, should I try to write again what I wrote yesterday, or should I just let it go?

Let's see... did anything of note happen today?

Well, I was freakin' tired (not new), so I slumped through class and work and the ride home, and stopped by a store just outside the subway station that Myung-soo had recommended I check out, and saw some things that may work as Christmas presents for John's second cousins (is that the right word for your cousin's kids?). Must remember that Brianna likes purple and Olivia likes pink. And they like girly things. How do I know this? Got home and received a call from John, who said he'd woken up, saw the time, and thought, "Hey! Helen would be awake now!" Awww.

Thought strikes. The subway. Been meaning to talk about it for a while. Specifically, the scrubbed-clean sparkling quality of the subway. The vending machines in the subway. The way people line up to enter the cars. The way that they CAN line up, because the train actually stops exactly where it is demarcated on the platform. The troika of trash receptacles (paper, plastic, and waste).

How does the subway keep its sparkling clean quality? By being scrubbed, of course. Older women in pink rubber gloves literally wash the steps and floor. Yesterday I saw a woman crouched down, digging dirt out of the grooves in the floor.

Yeah.

Trash: Korea is serious about recycling. Not only do you have to separate your trash at the subway stations, you also have to do it at home. The sanitation department here will only pick up your trash if it is in the proper bags (again, paper, plastic and waste), which you have to buy yourself. It's really quite admirable. Even human waste (don't read this if you're squeamish) is separated from paper products, if you know what I mean. If you don't, well, I'll spell it out for you: after you wipe, you don't toss in the toilet. You toss in the plastic container provided for you in every stall. Sort of like the leave-no-trace policy of hiking organizations.

I've even seen ads in the subway calling on people to take recycling seriously (at least, I think that's what they say). I'm going to get my hands on one of those posters before I leave Korea; the picture in the ad is of two dung beetles rolling bags of trash away.

Dung beetles! Yay!

Another poster I'd like to get my hands on is an ad for Bulgaris yogurt. The ad extolls a most interesting virtue of the yogurt, which is that it helps with constipation. (Again, at least, I think so.) The cartoon shows a man, toilet paper in hand, outside a W.C., with a pained expression on his face and a thought bubble: "Hok! Hok! I can't stand it anymore!" The banner over the drawing reads: "If you're plugged up, it'll make you go!" (Roughly translated, that is.) At first I thought it was the guy standing outside the W.C. who had drunk the yogurt, thereby necessitating the trip to the W.C., and I didn't understand why the ad would want you to identify with the pain of waiting when you, ah, really gotta go. But upon closer reading of the ad, I think it's aimed at the guy inside the W.C., who's make the "Hok! Hok!" guy wait so long.

I think it's hilarious.

Yes, I'm aware that this blog entry has concerned itself with potty issues twice now.

Okay, then, I'll just go back to what I wrote last night.

Last night I went to dinner with some people from the Foundation: five people who started working there within the last six months or so. Funny enough, they're all unmarried women aged 25-30 or so. We went to an Italian restaurant, La Lieto, which had a very pretty atmosphere, but dear me, Italian food here is certainly not like Italian food in America. (Which I will guess is certainly not like Italian food in Italy; you'd think I'd actually know since I did go there seven years ago, but when you're a college student on a budget, you're able to actually live on bread and Nutella for two weeks, missing out on a great deal of foreign food.) Everyone cleaned their plates and said it was quite good, but I must admit to being a bit disappointed. Where's the butter? The fat? The heavy cream? They do not live here, my friend.

If I had not been quite so tired, I might have enjoyed the evening more. Everyone does speak English, and I suppose I could have asked them to converse in it, but I felt I should practice Korean, so I didn't. But then I felt too shy to actually speak up in Korean, and you know, the longer you wait to say anything, the more you feel like what you do say in your horrible broken Korean will be even more idiotic, so ... I ended up not speaking much. I guess I caught about 65-70 percent of the conversation, which isn't too bad, but there's a lot more work to be done.

I've had considerable interaction with three of the five women: Myung-soo lived in Canada for three years as a kid, takes French lessons in the morning, is a big church-goer, and sits a few feet away from me; Ja-young does the Foundation newsletter and is also getting a masters in international education at Sogang, the university where I take Korean language class; and Hye-Jong went to American University in DC for a year, helps run the fellowship program, and has the cutest dimples I've seen this side of the Pacific. I can't tell if it's her personality, which seems very sweet and gentle, or her actual looks, but I think she's absolutely beautiful. She just started taking taekwondo lessons. (The other two women I haven't worked with yet, so I don't really know anything about them. They must take their documents to Mr. Aoki, the fulltime editor at the Foundation.)

You'll note that everyone is pursuing some other type of activity outside of work, which I really admire. Several weeks ago, I wrote about going to a concert with Soo-hyun, who is taking a French class, a Korean history class, sings in her church, and manages to go to six or seven concerts per month at the Seoul Arts Center. Crazy. I told my dad about her, and he said simply, "Koreans like to learn."

I like to learn too, but I find it incredibly difficult to balance everything: class, work, friends, homework, writing, hiking, concerts. I had hoped, when I moved here, to reflect, pursue certain interests I've harbored for a long time (writing, photography, taekwondo), explore the city. Rest. But things are as busy as ever. I want to do so much, and I don't enough time or energy! This week, for example, I saw a fantastic drum performance, went out to dinner with colleagues, and moved to my dad's place. I did homework on the subway -- when I wasn't nodding off -- and I've managed to get everything done, but dear lord, I am so tired because of it.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not complaining about the amazing opportunities I have. I just marvel that at this age I still haven't learned to prioritize activities or interests, and still want to do everything, when I KNOW that's just not possible. How do people manage?

Something for me to ponder as I toddle off to bed.

Oh yes, bed. Things are good here, on my second day in my grandmother's apartment, where my dad lives. I moved on Wednesday night, and with my dad's help, it took under 30 minutes. You know how I was afraid that Ajuma would be upset about me leaving so abruptly? Well, I needn't have worried. I left the house a few presents (two types of tea and some chocolate) as a farewell present, and gave the keys back to Ajuma with: "It was fun living here. Thank you." She said, "Yes, okay, go well," and closed the door.

And that was that.

No present from Uchidashi or Aya, but Aya did text message me later that night: "I'm sorry I couldn't help you move. Did it go well? Live well, and I will see you tomorrow." Aw. Have I mentioned how much I like Aya?

I unpacked my stuff with sense of contentment. There's always something nice about setting up house in a new place -- all those feelings of hope that hang around fresh starts and new beginnings. Dad gave me one of the two pieces of furniture in his room -- a cabinet/shelving unit that fits nicely in the corner of my room. No bed here, just thick blankets for the floor. (I adore Korean blankets -- beautiful bright silk/polyester coverings. Must bring some back. Or find some in K-town.)

Speaking of bed, that is where I am headed. Really. Now.