A Slow Monday.

I’m currently on my laptop, but here’s what’s tabbed up on my school computer: a hockey game (currently streaming full-screen), my G-mail inbox, 2 articles, 1 on drone strikes and Obama’s foreign policy, and another on the finer points of raising taxes for the American public, as well as an hour’s worth of sappy Korean drama, courtesy of YouTube, my Korean listening practice for the day.

You know, the computer I should be doing work on. For school.

Of course, for some of us expats in the Korean ESL industry, especially this time of year, this is a large part of our jobs, a great deal of what we truly have come to be so good at—being at work, but not really working. You see, most of us in the public school system have no classes these days. The kids have all gone again, this time for about 2 weeks, on spring “vacation.” But make no mistake about it, this is not so much a vacation. Not for the students of our school. They apparently go back home, where most teachers attest to a lack of love and compassion, and at times, sadly, a lack of parenting or parents altogether. They go to academies, which see little to no vacation time for both teachers and students. They most certain don’t travel further than downtown Pyeongtaek, and they most certainly get little stimulation outside of a computer game.

Today, and for the next two weeks, I have no classes. But these things tend to, at any other point of the school year, change on a daily, no, hourly, no, as-the-seconds-tick-away basis.

Upon hearing the faint rumble of what could possibly be our English room door opening (which by association means my “co-teacher” will soon step into our office and observe what I’m so curiously busy doing), I turn the volume down on the stereo speaker that, up until this moment, blasted the sounds of skates and sticks and hip checks into the boards. St. Louis leads Vancouver, 3-2, late in the 3^rd period. Vancouver has about 20 seconds left on the power play, and still shows plenty of life.

Turns out that rumble was not our door. Crisis averted. Sound is on again.

Such is the nature of a day with no students, no classes, and barely any teachers in the school. If not for the humming of the ceiling heater, one could all but hear a pin drop in the English room office.

It’s 1:31 p.m. on a Monday afternoon. My co-teacher has made exactly 2 trips to the English room today, each time alerting me that she’ll be spending most of her day in the teachers’ room. There, she’ll answer phones, make schedules, kiss a little vice principal ass, and generally stay busy and as informed as she can about all the happenings around the school. She does this because she has to. She does this because, in Korean schools, those below the principal and vice principal work their entire lives (and, consequently, their entire asses) off for a mere crack at the opportunity given to the education system’s most superior figures (one of my vice principals last year would kick his feet up the sound of 9:00 a.m.’s class starting bell, open the newspaper, and break from this routine only to stroll down the hill for lunch). My co-teacher is the head of all the school teachers at our school, and as such, she spends most of her free time back and forth between the principal and vice principal’s offices, doing a little brown nosing and staying overly diligent.

Vancouver’s really peppering St. Louis in the offensive zone now.

So today, and this doesn’t happen too often, there is no one in the office with me for the better part of 8 hours. At my job, it’s as cool as it is sad. While I was initially thrilled at the chance to mindlessly internet surf, read books as I pleased, even watch movies or catch up on recently missed episodes of useless TV shows as I saw fit, I tried to spend a great deal of this time writing, studying Korean, and preparing some classroom materials that, for myself and my co-workers, at least give the impression of an honest day’s work. I can remember a few conversations in the last month or two in which we, Pyeongtaek’s expats, asked each other “so, what do you tend to do while deskwarming?”

I watch hockey at my desk, too. I can’t deny that. But you can bet that, when I hear that distant door slide open, the volume’s off and the Korean study book is opened to a seemingly complicated page, full of new words and reading practice.

Vancouver just tied it…and we’re heading to overtime.

Christmas In Korea, Year 2

     Greetings from my desk!  Wow, it feels great to say that.  After 16 months in Korea, I finally have 1 school at which I can absolutely desk-warm while students and teachers are on vacation (as opposed to 5 schools that demand attention to different programs each day of the week, as was the case last year).  This means that I have some time to plan English camp, and plan next semester (diligent thinking!), as well as some time to catch up on anything else I'd like to--movies, music, blogging, reading, anything!  So I'm happy to write this from my desk on a frigid Thursday afternoon.  My camp planning is complete and I think it's fair to take an hour of my time and tell you a little bit about Christmas in Korea.

It's come and gone.  
Christmas for a 2nd straight year in Korea.  

     I wish I could tell you that it cured my homesickness, but has not.  However, this was really as great a Christmas as I could've expected with some folks that I, without hesitation, would certain call a semblance of a family here in Pyeongtaek.  Last year, I had a really nice brunch with some good friends, but spent the majority of the day sitting on floor heating, waiting for a chance to Skype with some family, and generally feeling sorry for myself.  

     It goes without saying at this point that the homesickness reaches its peak around the holidays--namely, in my case, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  While there's no need to inform you about the brilliance that is the Hurd Christmas agenda, suffice it to say that it involves a midnight choir service (complete with the classic, candle-lit "Silent Night"), some morning gifts from relatives, football watching and playing, Christmas music on repeat, about 25 friends and relatives packing into houses that can't possibly accomodate such a crowd, a little shopping, some historical bumming around and bar crawling in Philadelphia, and, consequently, more cheesesteaks, hoagies, and hot wings than you can shake a stick at in a year's time.  The only thing that we're usually missing on that trek to Pennsylvania is snow.  

     So you can imagine Christmas in Korea is...well, a tough sell.

There's no right way to do Christmas. You just do it. 
The best way you know how.

     Completely inconsequentially, I was watching "Shrek the Halls" with my students not a week ago (in part because it's kid-friendly and runs for approximately 28 minutes, and in part because it's the only Christmas-themed movie I could find that had subtitles attached).  

     Although I grew sick of the movie, one line stood out.  Puss, to a saddened, sorry Shrek who has never experienced a "real" Christmas, says softly and confidently,

     There's no right way to do Christmas. You just do it.

     It sounds simple and ideal, but I think it rings true for almost anyone.  I cannot truly and simply explain to anyone, exactly, why we do what we do on Christmas and Christmas only.  I cannot truly and simply explain to anyone why the 1 day of the year on which I feel comfortable and even joyful going to church is Christmas Eve.  I cannot truly or simply explain what connection, if any, stuffing myself with hoagies and chicken wings have to Christmas.  This is the beauty of Christmas, I think--it's different for everyone, and that's what we take such pride in.  It feels quirky and comforting that the things in which I take the most pride in over the holidays have come to mean nothing as far as the actual "Christmas" part of it is concerned.  It's not like we couldn't do such things on any other day of the year, but we only do them around Christmas.  It's a powerful holiday.

Christmas in Korea.

     So as homesick as one might be abroad for the holidays, the best thing one can do is exactly what one would do at home, no?  I've been watching college football bowl games at my desk, eating a bit more Western food this week (shameful), and [prepared some gifts to exchange with my girlfriend.

     But it is always people who make such things memorable, and I cannot thank my friends--no, my family here in Pyeongtaek for making this Christmas as memorable as it could have been abroad.  My good friend Cheng hosted a great potluck dinner and gift exchange night, and for those 6-7 hours, with some of my best friends in Korea, I didn't once think about what I might be missing at home (no offense).  In that moment, there was, truly, no right way to do Christmas.  We just did it.

     With food.  And more food.  And friends (family).  And gifts.  And card games.  And lots of picture-taking and goofing around.  And hugs.  And more food.  And alcohol.  And lots of alcohol.  And Christmas decorations.  And even a dog.  And more alcohol.  And more food.  And friends (family).  

     Thanks to everyone in Pyeongtaek who helped me have an amazing Korean Christmas.

     And thanks to all friends and family back home, who served as a most powerful reminder of just, exactly, why there is no place like home for the holidays, and who I can confidently say I will be returning home to next year for Christmas 2013.  

     Here are a few pictures from the holiday here in Korea.  A Merry Christmas to you and yours.

     Love,
     Sam.

     

Korean Food Spotlight: 부대찌개

     It's time for another edition of my slightly-less-than-weekly "Korean food spotlight."  We'll continue with the relatively simple concepts, in this case a giant soup in which the dominant ingredients are hardly traditionally used Korean materials.

     This dish is called 부대찌개, or "budae jjigae" if you prefer (sounds like BOO-DAY-JJEE-GAE).  The translation of this is a little amusing; 부대(budae) refers to a military base, while 찌개(jjigae) refers to any particularly thicker Korean stew.  This can be a little confusing until you hear the story of 부대찌개's inception.

Why eat this?

     No one thoroughly enjoys talking about the U.S. military presence in Korea, foreigners and Koreans alike (it seems), but 부대찌개 is one lasting memory of the United States' military presence in the peninsula.  How can this be?

     The main ingredients are all too familiar to most Americans, and include spam, hot dogs, cheese, beans (baked, kidney), onions, mushrooms, and peppers.  How do they make it into a Korean dish, you ask?  During and after the Korean War (1950-53), Korea's countryside masses turned to foraging for food they could not grow themselves--as one might learn from being here, the heavily bombed landscape that already includes 70% mountains doesn't leave an ideal amount of land on which to grow food.  Thus, people gathered leftovers from U.S. army rations (specifically from bases in and around my particular area, Pyeongtaek, which is loaded with these kids of restaurants), and did what many Koreans choose to do with a bevy of diverse ingredients--stew them in a soup.

What the hell am I looking at?

     The result is all of those sausages, spam, beans, vegetables and cheese, plus, of course, kimchi and pepper paste that we here in the peninsula refer to as 부대찌개.  Here's some visual context:

 In this particular 부대찌개, you can see some sliced spam, hot dogs, cheese,
beef, onions, rice cakes, mushrooms, and...of course, kimchi.

Heat up your portable table stove, and you've got a good 

broth started.  Yet, you're still missing one Korean favorite

that often goes in 부대찌개: ramen.  Throw it in and you're

good to go.  This particular restaurant, in Seoul, provided 

unlimited ramen per table!

In goes the ramen and some further onions, and it's ready to eat within 

minutes.  A nice little boil started, the spicy broth starting to roll...

     Budae jjigae (부대찌개) restaurants don't differ too much; depending on the place and the garden ingredients available, you'll see small variations.  One time I literally saw cans of Bush's Baked Beans (for the 'Merikans) being dumped into the broth, while on another occasion, I was lucky enough to have some freshly cut tofu blocks stewed in.  Here, you'll see some macaroni that I failed to mention:

Even though we're working with largely familiar, American ingredients, you're

still looking at one relatively healthy dish, all things considered.  This is one of

those meals that makes you feel just connected enough to come, but still very

much Korean.

So how does it taste?

     I think the idea of 부대찌개 gives many an instant thought of "well, this is good, but I'm not really eating Korean food, am I?"  The answer, intuitively, is no.  No, you are not eating Korean food.  But when you think back to the reason this is a popular, comforting dish in the first place, and you think about how proud people here are of their food--proud enough that they would keep the ingredients that some folks were allowed to subsist on when their rice fields were burned, cabbage, radishes and other crops were rotten, etc. and still find ways to "Korean-ize" it with their own tofu, kimchi, and spicy ingredients--you're not eating something that feels remotely foreign when you're finished.  Let it be known, this is most certainly still Korean food.

     And, as just about everything else here, it's awesome.  It has that perfect amount of spice and medicinal (the kind in which your nose just clears and clears) effect of warming and giving life and spices to your whole body.  And it's decidedly fun to eat, as all 부대찌개 restaurants differ from each other just a little bit.

     Give it a try!  Thanks for checking out this week's "Korean food spotlight."

My Students Aren't Always Cute...But When They Are, I Take Pictures.

     The title pretty much sums up my thoughts as to the general behavior of most of my students this semester.  I know they mean well, I know they're naturally playful, but class can generally be a struggle with 20-25 kids who tune in as quickly as they tune out.  I'm tired of having conversations about Korean education vs. U.S.A. education policy and practice, but I will say this: my kids get away with more than I'd ever like during class time, and I'm surprised my co-teacher isn't as angry about it as I am.

     That being said, here are some pictures of my students doing their thing in their cuter moments, i.e. those in which I'm not shushing them, asking them to stop writing on their desks, and sending them out of the room, to their homeroom and to the principal's office.  I've always said, and sometimes continue to say, that for all the bad days, all it takes is a cute smile or deed or some funny Konglish from a student to make you remember why you do this 40 hours a week.  

     Without further yammering, enjoy some cute 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th graders of Songhwa Elementary:

Moving Beyond K-Pop...For Now.

     I admit it.  K-Pop (the lady variety) is some sexy stuff.  K-Pop is also, at times (the dude variety) some androgynous stuff.  For all its powdered and reconstructed faces, catchy beats and moves, and general, seemingly impossible, duality of both sexuality and innocence, K-Pop is simultaneous eye candy and headache.  Those who know me know that I'm only a K-Pop fan to the extent that it drops my jaw, helps relate to my students and other Koreans, and occasionally makes my girlfriend or even my sisters roll their eyes and think "get off it, Sam...enough already."  Those who know me know that I'm as cynical and critical (if not more so) about the industry as I am actively, happily engaged in it.  But that's neither here nor there.

     I've recently come across some other Korean music that I find absolutely groovy; music to which I cannot stop jamming in my apartment at 6:00am or 10:00pm.  The only difference is that this music doesn't blow up on YouTube, sell millions of tickets worldwide, or find its hands tied by singers who desperately try to project any personality they are allowed, and by deep-pocketed executives and record labels who seem to own and control every move, every tweet, every scandal and every cute, posed photo.  Maybe it's not music that's exciting and frustrating me today.  Perhaps I'm just having a bad day.

     Anyway, lately I've been listening to Primary (프라이머리) and Bye Bye Badman (바이바이배드맨)  lately.

     

     And they don't disappoint.  Here's Primary laying down some beats and vibes for his friend Zion T, who (in all fairness to Korean women in music videos, K-Pop or not) sings to a woman as dangerously good looking as any on the scene.  This one's called "Meet."

     How tasty is that song?  Simple, funky as can be, with a full horn section, some sneaky, cooly-spit lyrics and a foxy lady.  

     Here's Primary and some other friends, Zion T included again, laying down some funk that my good friend here in Pyeongtaek, Scott, could only refer to as sounding "like a dead ringer for Jamiroquai."  Nothing wrong with that.  This one's called "See Through."

      Scott had it right on that one.  Again, cool, relatively simple video.  Again, some good looking women and fly clothes I wish I could pull off.  I remember hearing this outside a Pyeongtaek burger joint last Monday thinking all this song makes me want to do is shoot soju and dance for hours.  And if you know anything about me, you know that takes a very specific, very saucy tune.

     Then there are these folks, from whom I've only heard a few tracks: Bye Bye Badman.  I'll have to read up a bit more on them, though that kind of info is hard to find!  All I know is they look like a bunch of kids right out of, or still enrolled in, the baddest, artsiest, fartsiest high school in Seoul.  Just a collection of cool looking kids who use plenty of English lyrics to spice up their garage-band sound.  They even drop a "fuck."  This is called "Low."

     Again, I know little of these folks beyond the fact that they occasionally play at offbeat Hongdae haunts.  Sign me up sometime, though.

     So just to set the record straight, there seems to be plenty more great music coming from this ever-complicated country--at least, for a change, some that transcends the silicone and superficiality of K-Pop's finest.  I hope this kick lasts, and I'll continue to post any solid stuff I find in the near future.  Because I can't resist talking K-Pop for more than, oh, 5 minutes without cueing up a tab full of legs, here's my sign-off.  Until next time.

Pyeongtaek: My New Home

     Thanks for checking out the blog again, folks!  It's been a while, and having been back in Korea for 3 weeks, I'm ready to get the blog rolling.  Officially flew back on August 29th, after spending just over 20 hours in transit. Hopped in a late-night, hour-long shuttle from the airport to my new city (and yes, the driver even had a card that read "Samuel Hurd" at the airport...always wanted that!) and arrived at my apartment around 10:00 pm.  My co-teacher and her husband, who coincidentally have previously rented this apartment out, were waiting for me at my new home for the next year.  After reviewing some apartment procedures, I proceeded to not sleep for what seemed like days.  Of course, I was asked to report to school immediately the next morning, where I met some of the staff and handled some new paperwork.  Over the next few days, I failed to sleep, but successfully eked out a new work visa, new ID card, and made some new friends.  So began my time in my new city, 평택.

My new city, Pyeongtaek, in all its glory.  This photo was taken from atop AK Plaza, 

which is the catch-all name for the train station and 10-floor shopping center of downtown.

     So what is there to tell you about my new home?  First of all, it's called 평택, pronounced PYEONG (think "p" + "young") TAEK (think somewhere between "tech" and "take").  Pyeongatek, in Korean, translates, more or less, to something flat.  And that holds true; whereas my older home of Hampyeong, like most of Korea, was extremely mountainous, my new home lies on a relatively flat plain with few mountains in sight.  This is a bit of a strange concept in a country comprised 70% of mountains.    

As you can see, the flat plains extend to the very edge of the city.  That's one thing that has 

been very comforting so far: for all the resources and excitement that come with living 

in a larger city, a 5 minute walk lands me right back in the rice fields.

     What else can I tell you?  Pyeongtaek covers quite a bit of ground, bounded by the main highway artery toward Seoul on the east side, to the Yellow Sea on the west side.  In the most recent census, Pyeongtaek was declared home to just under half a million people.  Pyeongtaek consists of 2 "eups" (읍), or towns, 7 "myeons" (면), or villages, and 13 "dongs" (동) or neighborhoods.  I live in the main "eup," which contains the train station as well as downtown, in Hapjeong-dong.  Here's what the Wikipedia  article about Pyeongtaek.  I don't know just who wrote the briefing on Pyeongtaek for that page, but here is the vital information they chose to include:

Pyeongtaek was founded as a union of two districts in 940, during the Goryeo dynasty. It was elevated to city status in 1986, and is home to a South Korean naval base and a large concentration of United States troops. The Korean government plans to transform Pyeongtaek city to an international economic hub to coincide with the move of the United States Forces Korea (USFK) to Pyeongtaek. During the Korean War it was the site of an early battle between US and North Korean forces, the Battle of Pyongtaek.

     As you can probably tell already, Pyeongtaek is predominantly known, in Korean circles, for its military history.  If one travels throughout Korean, and one lists "Hampyeong" (my previous residence) as one's stomping grounds, a look of pure confusion, disgust, or nostalgia emerges on the faces of Koreans.  Sometimes all 3.  If one travels throughout Korea and expresses loyalty to Pyeongtaek, on the other hand, only one question seems to surface immediately.  "Are you a soldier, or a teacher?"  

     Of course, locals here seem to know the difference, as it largely goes without saying--the haircut, the dress code, maybe the Korea savvy, who knows.  Anyway, it was only a concern of mine because, in certain areas of Korea, suffice it to say that United States military personnel don't retain the staunchest support and good will of all.  There are 2 military bases within a stone's throw of Pyeongtaek (Camp Humphreys, southwest of town and Osan Air Base, north of town), though they're pretty well situated in the countryside, such that you don't just see soldiers walking through town...hence the pretty relaxed attitudes of the locals with regard to the matter.  While there are various reasons for that, into which I refuse to delve for now, I remember thinking: well, time to really grow my hair out so as to make that difference crystal clear.

     Where was I?  I was telling you about my new home.  And here is a good place to start:

AK Plaza, which contains 8 tracks of trains that run to nearly every

corner of Korea, as well as 10 floors of coffee shops, restaurants, 

shopping and public space.  It's no mistake that it's the focal point

of the city, and really what put Pyeongtaek on the map in the first place.

     This is AK Plaza, which is more or less the driving force of Pyeongtaek.  Years ago, this city was nothing more than a train station.  In 2012, that train station has been transformed into 10 floors of shopping, eating, movie watching, and just about any kind of entertainment under the sun.  It's a busy place, and a pretty solid walk from my apartment, so I don't venture inside as often as many, but it's nice for its practical uses.

In front of AK Plaza is a large 
public space, where taxis can 
be summoned, buses can be
taken, and traffic flows.  All 
public transportation generally
flows past the train station.  On
the right is a picture of the scene
just outside of AK Plaza.  It's 
about a 25-minute walk due 
straight west of my apartment,
so I more often take a bus or a 
taxi.  Public transportation in 
Pyeongtaek, as well as most
parts of Korea, largely rocks.

Here's one more broad look at the city, from the "Sky Garden" (스카이가덴) atop the 10th floor of AK Plaza:

This gives you a good feel for what the city architecture looks like.  Although 

dominated by concrete like any other Korean city, there are some cool structures

of glass that shake things up a bit, and countless, similar looking apartments 

farther away from the downtown area.  As a relatively new city with lots of new

wealth, Pyeongtaek actually doesn't maintain a lot of old, traditional architecture.

     The next practical part of Pyeongtaek I should definitely show you is Tongbok Market, or 통복시장.  I'm not positive on the total area of Tongbok, but let's just say you can find anything you need.  I've probably exhausted many of you with pictures of stomach-churning and mouth-watering (sometimes at the same time!) food from Korean markets, so here's a look at just one of Tongbok's countless long wind tunnels of market vendors:

Fresh fish, fresh vegetables, and plenty of household products.  Everything

you would want from a Korean market, and plenty of things you wouldn't.  

I say this every time I walk into a Korean market, and it really rings true: 

for as shy as Koreans can be about speaking to a foreigner in public whatsoever,

they are incredibly keen to chirp incessantly if they see you so much as bat 

an eye at their collection of fermented fish or bean paste.

     Tongbok is only about a 10 minute walk from AK Plaza, and the area between is littered with great restaurants serving up old, cheap Korean classics, from dumplings to hangover soup (I can explain those in a later post).  I only opted to buy some green onions for a stew, but they were, of course, of the hulk variety--alas, I could not find enough uses for green onions in 3-4 days' time.  Tongbok Market is open 7 days a week, as far as I'm concerned.  Some of the personnel even opt to sleep the afternoon or evening away inside these vending stalls when pedestrian traffic is low.  

The sun is setting on Tongbok Market.  Here's a look at one of Pyeongtaek's

many busy intersections, from inside the market.  Food tents and fresh fish

make it a pretty inviting place.

     While there is plenty happening in Pyeongtaek that is worth discussing, the downtown area around the train station and market really dominates the "things to see and do" conversation.  So I believe it's time to show you where I really live.

     Like any big Korean city, Pyeongtaek maintains pockets of large, downtown areas as well as quieter residential areas of small, old houses and high-rise apartments.  I'm somewhere in between, in a neighborhood that offers a good balance of apartments and houses, without any giant skyscrapers obstructing views and blocking good sunlight.  As one walks due east of the train station, Pyeongtaek gets quieter and quieter.  About 2 kilometers later, my neighborhood comes into view.

Leaving the downtown area for quieter streets.

A prototypical street in my neighborhood.  This photo was 

taken at dusk, just after some torrential rains.  The end of

summer is a pretty tumultuous time, weather wise, in Korea.

It was difficult to find much favorable weather in which to 

photograph my new home.  You can see some apartments 

and neon signs indicating karaoke halls, restaurants, grocery 

stores, and pubs.

     My neighborhood is relatively standard, as far as Korea-scape goes.  A few small grocery stores, convenient stores, karaoke halls, and plenty of restaurants.  It consists mostly of older couples and young Koreans who generally call Pyeongtaek home whilst studying or working elsewhere.  As far as I know, there are no other foreign teachers within about a 6-block radius, and that has made for some surprising conversations with the locals thus far.  Nice, quiet people in this nice, quiet neighborhood.

Here's a view of my street from atop my apartment.

     I'll tell you this: housing in Korea, whether you live in a palace of an apartment or a crumbling house that is centuries old in tradition (still plenty of these, though found more often in places like last year's haunt of Hampyeong), is often not pretty.  Concrete architecture dominates, and a certain uniformity and simplicity in design prevails.  However, in Korean maybe more so than any other place I've been, looks aren't everything, and there is certainly more than meets the eye.  Here, for your viewing pleasure, is my apartment complex...the Hapjeong Art Billa.

See?  Nothing to really write home about--though, ironically, I am currently doing

just that.  I'm on the 2nd floor, right in the middle; if you squint your eyes, you might

see my backpacking gear.  As far as I can tell, I'm the only person who actually lives 

here throughout the week.  I think most residents are in and out, depending on the 

day, week, month, or even year.  One thing that is a little charming is the view I get

immediately outside my window, that of a small garden maintained by this friendly 

dude.  Some tomatoes, peppers, corn, and pumpkins as far as I can tell!  This little 

garden space separates my apartment from one of Pyeongtaek's many west-east 

routes, but things stay pretty quiet throughout the day.

Here's the view from the rooftop, looking down on the garden patch and the main

street.  Just in this 20-meter stretch of road and patch of street view, 4 restaurants 

are housed.  And that, my friends, is one of the small beauties of Korea: anywhere

you may be, there is surely good food within just steps.

     So those are the vitals on Pyeongtaek--surely enough to get you started on imagining life here.  I'll save a later post for some introductory pictures and explanations of both my apartment and my school.  I apologize for the lag in updates, but for my friends and family, that should be nothing new.  I always vow to improve this, and I will keep doing so.  Maybe there's just more to do here, and that necessitates more blogging.  Maybe once you've lived here for a year, you feel the need to dig into things that don't just include enticing food pics and old temples.  That stuff is still pretty cool, though.

     I'll leave you with a parting shot from my rooftop, looking west toward the setting sun and downtown Pyeongtaek just after a storm last week.  All is well for now.  Thanks so much for reading about my new home, and be sure to keep checking back for more stuff.  

     안녕히계세요!