Okay, people!!!!!

PAY ATTENTION (if that's still free)

I have had some help to explain the commenting.

Thanks, Grampa Bernie!!!!

Just an observation for those who seem to be comment challenged. For everyone except Brad, pay attention:

(A) You do not need to register as a blogger to add a comment. No username / password needed.
(B) To add a comment, click on the "n Comments" at the end of a specific blog.
(C) When the "Post a Comment On:" screen appears, first thing you do, click on the "Other" entry under the "Choose an identity" topic on the right of the screen. This will change the screen so that the only thing that you need to fill in is "Name".
(D) Key in the colored, wavey, word verification string as it appears on the screen. This is to protect the comment screen from automated (programmed) responses (a major source of SPAM).
(E) Type in your comment in the box at the top of the screen on the right. Type as much as you wish (or as much as you can stand). Use the scroll bar on the right to preview your comment.
(F) Proof your comment (this is not required, but will be appreciated by those who attempt to read it once posted).
(G) Click on the Orange "PUBLISH YOUR COMMENT" button at the bottom.
(F) It may take a while for your comment to actually get posted. And, unless you back all the way out, you browser may retain screens in its buffers (and not refresh when you look at them again).

Once again, no username/password registration needed. If you don't wish to identify yourself, then press the "Anonymous" button instead of "Other" in step C. It's nicer to identify yourself. Some blog masters will not allow anonymous postings. It's nice that ours is so accomodating.

Thank You, Bernie!!!!! You're a big help.
One more thing, I moderate all comments.
They come to me and I will publish them or reject them.
It's to keep boneheads selling cheap car insurance or stock tips from posting.
I will generally publish everything, but it is at my discrepancy.
So, if you wan to to say something, say it.
I may not censor, but it is my right to.
I am the 'Thought Police' in this instance.
I am also, Judge, Jury, and Executioner, which I just looooove.
MMMMM, POWER.
Good Night and Good Potatoes.

Take the hand-off and follow the little old lady off tackle.

The clock was running and the crowd was getting restless, which can be easy, because there are 3,917 people anticipating the arrival of the train to Nowhere.
Dashing, darting, and deciding the route overtakes the thoughts.
Who to follow?
The little old lady with the cane?
What about the one with the shopping bags?
How's the one with the seaweed concoction in her hand? (I would get out of her way)
The one who's bowl-legged looks menacing, or is it her scowl?
The Adjumas (Romanized for those who don't speak Hangul) are the most entertaining of them all.
I have told you how they stop a speeding car with their hand, how they prepare Kim-chi on the streets, how they plow their way through a crowd, and how they cut in line in front of you.
But have I told you how they walk?
NO.
You see, it is my theory (and another guy's theory) that they are bowl-legged because they spend most of their lives seated cross-legged (we used to call this 'Indian-Style', but this term is outlawed).
Perhaps it's because they don't get enough calcium in their diet-I could make a killing selling calcium supplements. Black Market, anyone?
Either way, these cane toting Grammas are the cheapest form of entertainment I have found--including the scooters running into the back of taxis.
The Korean society is patriarchal and these ladies have been used and abused their whole lives and they intend on getting 'theirs' before they go wherever their beliefs take them.
And this, Folks, is why I love them.
They are tougher than a schoolyard bully, meaner than a pulling Guard going after your knees, stronger than Magnús Ver Magnússon (World Strongest Man), and mightier than some of the people waiting for tables at Jalapenos (you people could take some lessons).
Hours of funny antics.
Minutes of excruciating pain.
Mere seconds before you get blasted off the subway platform.
Example:
I am walking towards a train the other day, behind little Schoolgirl, a future Adjuma, and we are both heading towards the same platform.
Now.
I have no reason to run this girl into a wall nor do I want to, but we are moving at a pretty good clip.
Why?
Dunno, the train won't be coming for five minutes, so there is plenty of time.
Then.
Out of NOWHERE, she appears.
The Grand Duke of Adjumas and she has fire in her eyes and her shoulder dropped.
I spied her early enough to back off my speed, Schoolgirl wasn't as lucky.
My iPod's volume may have been on high, but my senses made up for the fact.
I sensed danger. It was in the air.
My eyes darting, the hair on my neck stands up, and BOOM, there she was........
SAVE YOURSELF, my mind says.
And I do.
I'm looking out for NUMBA One and that's ME.
Schoolgirl didn't know what hit her.
I did.
Adjuma.
The shoulder squares, the teeth bared, the attitude stronger than little Katlyn's or Devlin's in front of the candy selection at Hy-Vee.
Adjuma rams into little Schoolgirl and she goes-a-flyin'.
Adjuma doesn't even flinch.
This is good for me.
Now.
I don't profess to be a NASCAR fan, I don't see the purpose of turning left all day, but I have learned one thing in my quest for a great crash at Daytona, go between the cars that have just collided.
So I did, substitute the Rainbow Warrior and Jimmy Jack Paul (or whatever Bubba's name is today) and fly on by. ("Watch Goose, I'll slam on the brakes and he'll fly on by....." "C'mon Mav, quit screwin' around")
So.
While Schoolgirl is spinning out of control and flying past me, backwards, I take the inside shoulder of Adjuma and find my opening.
I see daylight and lots of it.
Adjuma is scowling.
Not at me.
Thanks to the powers that be.
She's attacking Schoolgirl with such venom a Navy SEAL would run.
Again, I may not know what she's saying, but I know WHAT she saying.
Schoolgirl is fighting the tears, huddled against a pole, cowering (it's part of the Adjuma training course).
Adjuma is WAILING.
All this is in my rear-view-mirror. Just where I like it.
Yet, I turn.
My laughs fill the platform, my pointing is obvious, and my 'HA-HA!!!' is as loud as loud can be.
Then the glare.
I should not have turned around, I've read Greek Mythology (plus, I saw 'Clash of the Titans') and I know the power of Medusa and she ain't got nuthin' on Adjuma.
Leave well enough alone.
Nope.
Not me.
As I am pointing and laughing, Adjuma's head spins on her shoulders--just like in the movies.
I let out a little scream.
I fear Adjuma will come after me.
Turning to run, I spot another Adjuma, little pink wearing coat Adjuma.
Dare I look her in the eye and be turned to stone or a pillar of salt?
Nay.
I am too smart for this or at least my Mommy tells me so.
So.
With Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes blasting in my ears (Teddy P's got it goin' on) I high-tail it to the end of the platform and hide behind a column to wait it out.
It works, but other Adjumas are about.
They smell blood, like Hyenas on the Savannah.
I'm like the Antelope (or Oryx), I dart and dash away, saving my arse for another day.
Schoolgirl isn't as lucky.
She is being ripped to shreds by a pride of Adjumas.
Poor thing.
She didn't know what hit her, which is good, no one wants to die a painful death.
So?
What have we learned?
We have learned to stay a distance away from Adjuma, don't look them in the eyes, DO NOT feed them, and when you see the shoulder drop, go left or right or backwards or drop to the floor and feign death.
The entertainment will take care of itself.

OK
Adjuma is out of the way.
No we go to ''Likes to try to fight Drunk on Soju Korean Guy".
Funny.
Worse than two lunkheads at the Brooksider posing for their friends, butnotactuallydoinganythingbecausetheydon'twantoriptheirBananaRepublicshirt.
Words.
More words.
Sigma Chi Guy (or the Korean Guy version) holding lunkhead back.
As if the guy is really going to do anything.
Screaming like little girls, posturing, feathers in an uproar.
This is what I witnessed on the way home from the bar the other night.
And it was funny.
Four lunkheads in the Dance of 'Not-Wanting-to-Fight-but-I-sound-Pretty-Tough'.
Falling down, stretching shirts, swinging like a blindfolded dork at a Pinata.
What a joke.
I've seen more action outside of The Brooksider at Three AM, er, Midnight, I never stay out that late, Mom.
One hits the ground after being spun out by the guy holding his shirt, another backs into a wall, hitting his head.
One of the 'holders' is talking fast and probably saying,
"Yeah, you could kick his ***, but I am not going to let you."
"Aw, c'mon, he started it!!"
"Yeah, he's a jackass, but he's not worth it. Besides, he's your boss."
'Doesn't matter, he insulted me!!!"
"Yeah, but you started it."
"No I didn't!!! HE did!!"
(A voice from the background)
"No I didn't, YOU did!!!"
"Nuh-huh, you did!!"
"Nuh-huh, you did!!"
"Nuh-huh, you did!!"
"Nuh-huh, you did!!"
"Nuh-huh, you did!!"
And so on and so forth.
These pansies 'duke' it out for about ten minutes, until one of them is sat down by 'Holding Back Likes to try to Fight Drunk on Soju Korean Guy'.
A nice little schoolyard discussion is had, while the other 'Holding Back Likes to try to Fight Drunk on Soju Korean Guy' is doing his job, the same thing.
All that is missing is a jump rope and a game of Kickball.
No punches were connected.
A lot of name calling.
Some tears.
And stretched shirts.
That's about it.
Another night at The Brooksider and everyone walks away, disappointed.
All I wanted to see was a 'Knock-Down-Drag-Out Brawl' and I got a lot of tail feathers in an uproar.
I don't miss The Brooksider.
Maybe Flo's, at least people hit each other with Escalades up there.
And Jim has Tuaca.
'Nuff said.

So.
As you can see, entertainment is cheap and plentiful.
BUT.

1. Stay out of Adjuma's way.
2. You won't get to see an 'actual' fight.
3. Watch out for puke on the ground. Yes. Puke. Another story for another time.
4. Spit in the ashtrays. Yet another story for another time.
5. And keep an eye out for scooters bashing into the back of taxis.

And your Won will go a long way.

OK.
I have received many requests for pictures of Kauai, however, I have exceeded the storage amount for the web album. I am working on upgrading it, without having to pay money. I love free stuff (which there can be plenty of it here in Seoul).
I am trying to manipulate the 'system' and stick it to the man, wish me luck.
When I get this figured out, y'all will be the first 8,000 to know.
I will do the mailbag, here shortly, but first, let's peek in on "Brad Teacher's" Room.

As you know, I was having off in a wonderful land for a week, recently.
I fought the urge to stay and decided it was best for me and my representation of the USA to come back and show how good I can be.
'Good' as in behavior, which can really be a stretch sometimes.
As explained previously, I have a lot of little kids in my classes and I have become attached, they are too cute, especially when two of them approach me and say, "Brad Teacher is a gentleman!!!!"
I mean, what am I supposed to say to that? I have these little girls fooled, but I wasn't about to tell them, it would destroy their whole vision of me!!!
These children make the worst days seem bright and when I am about to implode and snap, they bring me out of it, without even knowing what they've done.
They grab my hand to walk me to class, they smile, they hug me, they sit on my lap, they want to be near me, they make me happy, and the highlight of their day is being picked up by me, seeing the world through someone my height's eyes.
I was apprehensive about the little ones, I wasn't sure how to deal with them, but they soon put my trepidations aside. They are the funnest classes I have, well, except for the one class on M-W-F at 5:00, they are the little demons Shirley Jackson wrote about.
But I digress.
My day starts with my girls and a boy. They are eager to learn and the homework gets completed before it is due.
Are you reading this HIGH SCHOOL, MIDDLE SCHOOL, AND ELEMENTARY STUDENTS?!?!?!?!?!?!
They DO their homework, BEFORE it is due.
You aren't going to let a bunch of six and seven year-olds beat you, are you?
C'mon, FOR THE USA!!!!!
(Which reminds me, I have a class that chants, "USA, USA, USA, USA!!!!!! With me. it's a hoot!!!!)
These children make the day seem shorter and I cannot wait to enter the class to see them smile. It's like Jalapenos, only I don't have to get their parents more chips and salsa!!!! (Nothing meant by that, so don't read into it).
The questions they have, the self-instruction, the helping of others, it makes me really want to stay in teaching---IN THE USA.
They come into my class on days I do not teach them and when my boss approaches them (when I am around), they walk right by him to me!!!!
A kinda 'Rock Star', if you will.
when I see them on the streets, screams of, "HI!!!! Brad Teacher!!" permeate the air.
I was in 'Lotteria', a so-called 'burger joint' (not to bad, actually) and one of my students was there with a birthday party. The next thing I know, there are 20 kids surrounding me, all talking and wanting to hear me talk. They followed me all the way down the street yelling, "Good-Bye!"
If that doesn't make you feel as if you are making a difference, nothing will.
The kids made the return from Kauai, better, not easier, better. I felt missed and when I am greeted by hugs, I knew I made the right choice upon returning.

So, I am back into the full-swing of things, teaching, talking, laughing, and being 'popular' and I wouldn't have it any other way if I am going to be away from home.

NOW.
Questions.

Susie asks:
Is it me or is 'Flat Ben' like a Rock Star?
Not just you, Susie. As you know, we had a blast with him in Hawai'i and it gives excuses to take thousands of pictures. That guy goes EVERYWHERE!!!

What is up with the monkey on the Beer and Whiskey sign?
Monkeys are considered to be outgoing and popular. If you were born in the year of the 'Monkey', like me, it is said people will like you. Tell that to some of the people at Japs who requested NOT to sit in my section. Their loss.

What goes on in the Grass and Field experiencing room? (at the World Cup Stadium)
Preparations. Stretching. Warming up. At least when there's a match, otherwise, kids and people like me run around, screaming, "GOAL, GOAL, GOAL, GOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!"

What constitutes 'American Sushi'?
Don't know, they probably serve ketchup with it.

It looks cold there, is it? You know where it's not cold? Kauai
It is not as cold here as it is in KC. It's actually in the 50's here (close to the 10's for you Celsius freaks).
And no, it WAS NOT cold on Kauai. It was beautiful and soooo many of you missed it. Too bad, so sad.

Jason's statement:
They all seem to be dressed in pastels to resemble Easter eggs.
Yes, they do. in fact, I have a student I call 'Pink', she is ALWAYS dressed in head-to-toe in pink. Everything is pink. The others wear light blues and purples and other pastels, I haven't quite figured it out.

Veronica, um, asks:
Geez, Louise, Brad, would you like a little bread and cheese with your whine?
Keep it up, Veronica, keep it up. And your knowledge of music will be smaller than it already is.....

Aren't your little students the cutest?
Yes, they are. And they're all mine!!!!!

What is 'MONKEY VOMIT'?
An old family recipe, my dad named it, because it looks like 'Monkey Vomit', but it is OH so delicious. However, it rips up your stomach and I can really only eat it once a year. During The Super Bowl.

Jennifer and Ken inquire:
You said you teach adults, too. Where are their pictures?
They don't like to ham it up for the camera as readily. I'll get pictures and post them someday.

The classroom doesn't look much bigger than your apartment. Is your classroom really that small? And cold? All of the kids seem to be in their winter coats.
It's not too big, but it works. YES, it IS cold. I have a portable gas heater (with an open flame--try THAT in the States) and it does a good job of heating the room up. The kids wear their coats all of the time. I wear mine sometimes, too.

How cold does it get there? Probably not as cold as it does here lately(KC)?
Chilly, not shaking in your boots chilly, but I wear long underwear all of the time. Good thing I have lost some weight, my jeans are loose.

What was X-Mas like? Is it celebrated there like it is in the States?
They celebrate it, but not with the vigor of the 'Country Club Christians' in the USA. However, there is a place, Myong-Dong, where at ten minutes to midnight, they turn off the lights and it's called, "Kissing Time", the lights are out and those who have a partner, make out for ten minutes and when the lights are turned back on, everybody cheers. I didn't make it.

Bergs noticed:
After looking at the stadium I was wondering what recreational sport do you see being played the most. You know I remember my old stomping grounds in stl and you would see street hockey and fuzz ball, soccer and maybe a little "kill the man with the ball". What do these kids play?
They play soccer up at the park near my house.
BUT.
They usually stay inside and play 'Computer Games' all of the time. when asked if any of them want to come to the USA, they reply, "NO. Your internet is too slow."
There is baseball and other stuff like that, but it is relegated to parks, which you don't always see. But mostly, the little buggers play computer games.

Sue asks:
Are all of your students girls?
A majority of them are, there are a few boys, but in MY classes, I have a lot of girls and they seem to be better behaved. For the most part. There are instances when they 'Chew' one another out, it's a funny thing. Like I have said, I don't know WHAT they are saying, but i know WHAT they are saying. Their eyes give it away and when one of them starts to cry, I know EXACTLY what was said. The kids here like to cry at the weirdest things and all I can do is try to make them stop, usually by putting them on my lap and talking softly to them, it sometimes works, but not all of the time. Then. There are the times I just let them cry it out. I had once instance where 'Pink' started to cry (she's kind of spoiled) and the rest of the class ignored her. I became concerned, until I saw her peeking over her arm and realized it was all for attention, she has the fake cry down pat, but the rest of my girls called her out and told her to quit it, THAT made her really cry. I hated to laugh, but I did.
Ya gotta love the kids!!!!

Now.
I have questions.
Did Jalapenos close?
Is Papa Kenos open at Gregory and Rockhill yet?
Is everyone stoked about the Royals as I am? Except you, Bergs.
Anybody, besides Gramma Pat, going to see The Dead Sea Scrolls?
Anybody been to the new museum at Liberty Memorial?
How's Downtown looking?
The Sprint Center?
Has the 75th Street Brewery run out of Brown Ale, again?
NHL or NBA?
Rocks or Frozen?
Sour Cream or Guac, or Both?
Anyone know of teaching positions (preferably in Social Studies or English or ESL or any others, besides Science) for a tall, good looking, smart, outgoing man who was born in the "Year of the Monkey"?
Anything I else I should know about?
New restaurants?
New places in Waldo?
Brookside?
The Plaza?
Anywhere in KC?


Okay.
I have bored all of you enough, but don't get used to the constant updates, they ain't gonna happen this frequently.
I hope this finds all of you freezing your tails off, it beautiful here today!!!!
Good Day and Good Luck.

Kauai
Heaven on Earth, but you should all go to Maui, you'll like it MUCH better.
I have pictures, but none of you can see them.
Unless you beg.

It was good to get back to the United States, if only for a moment.
The miles on my NWA account will come in handy someday.

The best part?
Debby.
I talk to her on a regular basis, but to be able to spend some time with her, without a microphone in my face,
priceless.
I got to hang out with Gavin, Susie, Stuckey, Mike, and Melissa, which had a calming effect on me.
I was glad to get away and experience Sportscenter again.
To drink water from a faucet.
To hear English, albeit, with a Polynesian accent.
To have a beer with my girlfriend and friends.
To be a part of something.
I feel energized and ready to finish out the year.
Although, the time is craaaaaaawling.

We started in Honolulu's airport, where Brad had a bunch of Guinesseseses.
We finished in Honolulu's airport, where security had to tear me apart from Debby, kicking and screaming.
What happened in-between was the best vacation I have ever had in my life.
Bar none.
Better than the trip through The Badlands.
Better than the trips through Montana and Idaho.
Better than going to the Grateful Dead in Cleveland or Chicago.
Better than The Allman Brothers Band in Tinley Park
Better than going to Wrigley Field.
Better than going to the 75th Street Brewery. (Yep, I'm serious)
I have never had a trip like this.
Sunshine.
Debby.
Light rain.
Debby.
Kayaking.
Debby.
Mountains.
Debby.
Waimea Canyon.
Debby.
Beaches.
Debby.
Body surfing (or some resemblance to it).
Debby.
Hiking.
With Debby.
Debby.
Dinners in the condo every night.
Debby.
Red Stripe.
Debby.

See where I am going with this, people?
I had the time of my life (great, another song to get out of my head).
And nobody put Debby in a corner.

We started our vacation by getting lost on the way to the condo.
Poor guy who told us we were in the wrong place.
When we finally did arrive, after beer and grocery shopping, we hit the deck and did Soju shots and caught up with each other, Debby never an arm's length away.
I had TWO Saturdays, I love the International Date Line.
I actually got there before I left.
Sunday was a day of checking out stuff.
Where do we want to go?
What do we want to do?
Did you know 1,200 eggs can last you a week?
Neither did we, until know.
We hit the beach.
We drove around the island.
We had shrimp at a little shack on the west side.
We looked at the ocean.
Jealous?
You should be.
Every night, no matter what was going on, we had dinner together, just like families should.
A round of "What did you do today?"
And "What are we doing tomorrow?"
Just like families used to do.
Only, this time, I got to put my feet on the countertop.
People snorkeled.
People went zip lining.
People went kayaking. (with a cute guide, as far as Susie and Debby were concerned)
People went hiking<--- Debby and I did an eight-mile hike up the Na Poli Coast. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!!. If you're ever up there, look for the numerous bamboo trees I etched our initials into. Debby broke her camera, but it was my fault. You see, I made a smart-assed comment (yes, yes, I did. I was shocked, too) and she playfully knocked my shoulder, but missed, hitting the camera. We watched as it slowly went through the air, sunlight shimmering off the gleaming metal, slowly turning and rolling as it struck the rock we were standing on, bouncing into the only water puddle in a ten foot radius. I quickly pulled it out of the water, got the memory card out and saved the battery, however, the LCD screen was damaged beyond comprehension. Sorry, Debby!!!!!! As for the hike, there is nothing on this planet like it. The most beautiful views, foliage beyond your imagination, paths as wide as your foot, with a two hundred foot drop-off on your left. Mud, mud, and more mud. A private beach, where numerous people have died trying to swim. Obviously, we didn't. Swim, that is. We wanted to die at the end of the hike, but the sunset we watched saved us. And BOY-HOWDY!!!!!!!
What a sunset.
Nothing in the way, but a cloud.
And it enhanced it.
A quiet beach, with a hundred of our closest friends (or closest strangers) and the sun diving into the horizon, as the temperature dropped a bit, and the mist from the waves crashing creating little dots of of Angel's tears falling to the fine sandy beach.
All with no shoes on.
Not the hike, the sunset.

If you ever have a chance to go to a luau,
GO.
If not for the food, but the people watching and the scantily clad hula dancers.
The girls said there were almost naked guys, too, but I didn't notice.
Polynesian welcoming dances, hula, screaming, landlubbers getting on stage and dancing with the group, old-timers having the time of their lives, and a group of seven in the back, drinking free booze and walking away when a hula dancer approached our, er, their table, to ask if they wanted to go on stage, fire dancing, and Haupia.
Enough said.

Again, as the time before, we were all wanting to make a phone call home, sell our stuff and settle.
I still haven't figured out why we left.
Another question, never to be answered.

Then.
It happened.
It ended.
I have done some hard things in my life.
Too numerous to list, but leaving Debby standing in Honolulu's Airport was, BY FAR, number ONE.
You know the feeling you get when you leave someone for a day or two?
Well.
Add to the fact I am not seeing her until May, when she comes here, and add to that the BEST week EVAH.
Well, you can see how hard it was.
Tears?
Why, yes. From Debby, too.
Plenty.
Heartbreak?
It cracked.
Pain.
Yep?
I didn't listen to my iPod at all on the 11 hour flight home.
I was a ball of nerves heading back over that International Date Line.
I lost part of a Saturday and most of a Sunday.
I hate The International Date Line.

Can I say it was good to get back to Seoul?
I could.
But, I won't.

Don't get me wrong, I like it here, I am enjoying myself, I am learning about myself, I am learning how to teach, I love my kids, I love my job, but the vision locked into my head is Debby standing there, waving is a hard one to let go. But I have it saved and I refer to it when this place gets to be too much.
So.
I got that going for me.
Mahalo.
Thanks for reading.
Pictures to come, forthwith.

Home Plus

I really wouldn't call it a plus. I would call it a riot. Not as in funny, but as in "tear gas, police beat downs, and Abbie Hoffman taking a boot to the face from Pete Townshend" type of riot.
(But there are some funny things that happen).
This is South Korea's version of Super Target, Wal-Mart Supercenter (from what I have heard--don't really care too much for Wal-Mart), and/or any conglomerate where you buy your tires, deodorant, salad fixings, Chapstick type of place.
Only this is multi-stories.
And one can get lost.
And then go up the escalator the wrong way, then make an wrong turn, then run over a little kid, all while waiting for your sushi.
Chili.
I wanted chili.
I want William's Chili Seasoning.
Stewed (by someone other than me) Tomatoes.
Red Beans.
HOT peppers, not pepper paste.
WHITE onions, that don't squish when I check them.
(No, Veronica, this isn't whining. It's an observation. I'll remember the whining comment the next time you e-mail me with a music question. We'll see if Jennifer (if she's still alive--I haven't heard from her in a while) or Gavin can answer your question AND give you more information than your really want.)
So there.
I want a 'Helpful Smile in Every Aisle"----try to get that song out of your head, go ahead, try it.
I want Hy-Vee.
I want JoCo soccer moms with crying babies, screaming 8-year-olds, and the little girl standing in front of the candy section throwing a fit, while her mom takes every piece of candy off the rack, trying to satisfy little Devlin, Katlin or whatever her name is.
However.
I get the Korean version.
It sucks when you cannot understand everything they are saying.
You know what they're saying, you just don't know WHAT they're saying.
Get it? Good.
Home Plus is C-R-A-Z-Y.
That's putting it lightly.
You see, I have been grocery shopping since I was in High School.
Not because I was abandoned, but because I worked at Hy-Vee, therefore, I knew where everything was and could get in-and-out of there in no time.
Easy when Mom hands me a blank check.
(She still doesn't know I was adding to my baseball card collection. SHHHHH, don't tell her)
I like my grocery store structured.
I want everything where it should be.
I want canned veggies near canned fruit cocktail.
I want Hamburger Helper across from the salad dressing.
I want Argentinian Beef, even though we have the best beef in the world down the turnpike.
I want Hy-Vee Skim milk across from the sour cream.
I want the chips and pop in the same dang aisle.
I want to leisurely shop.
Down EVERY aisle.
I want to see the same Soccer mom with the same out-of-control kids in the Race car cart in every aisle I go down.
I miss that.
Home Plus doesn't afford me that luxury.
BUT.
It is the closest I will come to driving in this city.
So I got that going for me.
Nothing is where it is supposed to be.
Rather, where I want it to be.
And everything is in Korean.
The nerve.
Several times in my life I have been on the verge of a Nervous Breakdown.
(Usually when the Royals are mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, on April 7th.)
This trip to Home Plus had me looking down into the bastion of nerves, shaking, fetal position, and thumb sucking.
It had everything I described, but in Korean.
How am I to laugh and point?
Rolling your eyes in English doesn't have the same effect (or affect. Hell, I teach the language and I cannot even remember).
60,000 Won later, I had some chili fixins' that didn't measure up, but I got out of there without crying.<---Don't worry, Mom, I bought other things, too. But I forgot the Peanut Butter.
Or at least letting them see me cry.
Aisle after aisle, people running you over, getting in front of you, pushing me out of the way, hitting my heel with their cart <---reason number one as to why I will wear my boots shopping there NEXT time.
There is nothing structured about that place.
A freakin' madhouse.
Good for a laugh, though.
If this were JoCo, there would have been brawls and hair pulling.
Oh, NO, not here. There are more aisles dedicated to ramen noodles than anything else. Pictures?
Are you crazy?
My camera would have been knocked out of my hand, right Debby?
Box it yourself, if you can get to the boxing counter before the little old ladies.
Saturday afternoon.
AND no threat of snow.
Could you imagine if there was a forecast of snow?
The weathermen here don't own stock in grocery stores.
I made it out alive, barely.
I didn't suck my thumb, there at least.
I didn't cry, about that.
And I didn't hit anyone, although, I shoulda (family joke).
Next time you're in Seoul, since you all come over here soooooooo often, go on a Tuesday night.
Would ya?
Oh!
The chili was alright.