Friday, February 14, 2003

Tired. Saturday morning should not be spent at work.

Well, okay, it's not THAT bad when you don't HAVE any work, and you can write emails and blog entries instead.

Last night had dinner with Haruway, the Japanese kindergarten teacher from my class last quarter. She saved up for a couple years so that she could spend these five months in Korea, and is going back home at the end of the month.

I wish I could capture for you her wonderful, delightful charm. She's 29 but has the self-described heart and nature of a kid. (Well, let's make that a really good-natured kid, like my second cousin Gyu-hyun.) Cheerful (but not in an overbearing way), finding something to laugh about in practically everything (but not in an inane way), hardworking, empathetic and earnest. There is a certain ... I don't know -- innocence? -- about her, and an absolute lack of cynicism or world-weariness. Every new fact is something really marvelous, and every new experience amazing.

She went to Tokyo over the holidays to spend time with her 21-year-old boyfriend (she says the age difference is fine since she's more a kid than an adult) and actually fought with him a lot, which I can scarcely imagine. Some of the things they fought about are so universal, they're funny -- he doesn't want to ask for directions when he's lost, and he's embarrassed when she wants to take pictures of things or of them.

We agreed that these things will probably improve with age.

Haruway had been to Korea 5 times before this time, but has never stayed as long as this. I asked her last night about the most important thing she learned during her stay. After thinking for a few minutes, she said that she liked staying in Korea and learning Korean, but that she realized her true love was teaching kindergarteners.

I also asked her what she thought had changed about her since she came to Korea. She replied that she came to value her family and her boyfriend more, because she was all by herself in Korea. And she realized, as her money supply dwindled, that she didn't need the materials things that she always coveted when she was in Japan.

I told her about the Dalai Lama's advice to want what you have, and how that helps you lead a happy life. I suppose it sounds rather new-agey or maybe new-therapy, but it's up there with "Good is good, but done is better" as one of the wiser sayings I've encountered.