So what's it like to be pregnant?

If you want to, you can ask a random stranger on the internet about their pregnancy experience. Or you can ask me. I've realized at this point that every single pregnancy is different for every single woman. No surprise, really, considering that all babies are also different. For instance, as I'm writing this, my baby thinks it's cool to punch me repeatedly in the bladder. Please excuse me while I go pee for the fifth time since I started writing this.

Okay, now that that's taken care of....This post is for all three of those people who want to know how the baby's doing, but aren't really sure how to ask. I've realized that a lot of people (male coworkers in particular) have literally no idea how babies work. Thus, I'll get the same guy repeatedly asking, "Can you, like, really feel it moving? Is it moving right now? What does that feel like?" I've also had one guy offer several times to give me his sister's leftover folic acid, which is really nice and all, but I haven't need folic acid supplements since the first trimester.

I've also had a few comments that make me laugh, not because they are funny, but because they're the kind of comment that a completely clueless person would make when they are trying to say something nice but have no idea how. For example, "Wow, you know, I heard that most pregnant women are crazy hormonal, but you're really normal and not crazy!" Also, "Theresa, you're so amazing. You're working even though you're pregnant!" (Because being pregnant makes it impossible to teach?) Again, not that these people are dumb, but they just don't know.

So how is pregnancy? You often hear all sorts of horror stories about every little thing that could possibly go wrong. And...none of that has happened to me. I almost feel sorry for my doctor. She orders all these tests, and they always come back negative. She has nothing to do! Well, until this past week. This past week (I'm now at 38 weeks, which is considered full term. If the baby were born tomorrow, he would be perfectly healthy!), she discovered that I'm anemic. In other words, I have a shortage of iron in my blood. At once, my awesome doctor jumped into action! I now have to take extra IRON supplements, eat more IRON-rich food, and get an IV of IRON once a week.

So how about the rest of it? Now that my stomach is so large that it knocks things over and prevents me from having good posture, it's hard to recollect those early weeks and months. I remember a few mornings of nausea, and having to wear a face mask every time I left my house because my sense of smell had become much too powerful. Everywhere I went, I was assaulted by the stench of soju, rotting garbage, cigarettes, and vomit. Soju smell was especially bad because literally every man on public transit smells like soju. It was at times like these that I desperately regretted living in a city with a population of 10 million.

Then there were the days when I had irresistible cravings. There was one week when all I wanted/all I could stomach was tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. After that, I moved on to pizza. Then there was Mexican food, a brief flirtation with pickles (during which I made my own dill pickles because Korea only has sweet pickles, which are an abomination), a few ice cream binges, and the one time I went out to eat duck at a fancy restaurant with Park's family, but was only interested in the roasted sweet potatoes. In fact, this whole pregnancy, I haven't wanted Korean bbq at all, a fact that has made Park very sad and his father very confused. (Park's father is the kind of man who considers bbq parties to be the highest good in the universe) Early in my pregnancy, when we weren't sure if our baby was a boy or a girl, I had a sudden craving for fruit, especially Korean plums. Park's family took this as a sign that the baby was a girl, and they were delighted. Finally, a girl! The Park family curse of nothing but boys was finally lifted! In celebration, they bought me box after box of plums and peaches, until I was so sick of them that I still would rather eat just about any fruit except a plum. Alas, their hope was short-lived. A few weeks later, ultrasound revealed that this baby is most definitely a boy.

Second trimester was awesome. I quickly resolved that if this is how all of my pregnancies will feel, I am super okay with having a lot of babies. My hormones were leveled-out, I now had a very clear baby bump so people knew I wasn't just fat, and I had endless amounts of energy. Park took me shopping for maternity clothing and waited patiently while I gleefully tried on dresses that actually fit me. At work, I was bouncing off the walls, planning stuff and volunteering for conferences just because I could. I was ravenously hungry all the time, and each new dish was a delight to consume.

Third trimester has been a lot like second trimester, except that I'm a lot fatter now. I need help putting my shoes on. My lap is completely inaccessible to affection-hungry cats (Did I mention we now have three?). I have sudden, strong urges to consume large quantities of chocolate. I can't get out of bed. I just sort of roll out. My stomach is massive. Planet-sized really. And the baby, who we affectionately call Chewbacca, has become increasingly active.

We have been incredibly blessed. This has been an incredibly easy pregnancy, and, most importantly, our baby is perfectly healthy. Now here's hoping for an easy delivery!

On Funerals

Park's grandmother died last Sunday, and, while it was in no way unexpected, it was still a difficult time for everyone. I've written before about Korean funerals, and now I'm going to write some more, based on my experience. Last time I attended a funeral, I was just a visitor. Now, I was part of the family, and it was much more difficult. One could even say brutal or grueling.

In my experience, American funerals are a rather simple affair. There is a wake or viewing at a funeral home, followed by some sort of memorial service or funeral Mass and then the burial. Funeral homes tend to be somber in color, filled with cushy chairs and tissue-stocked alcoves, where mourners can converse in private. Wakes are held at certain hours, during which visitors can offer their condolences to the family and catch a last glimpse of the deceased, whose body is tastefully displayed, perhaps robed in a favorite outfit and clasping some sweet-smelling flowers.

Korean funerals are completely different.

As I've mentioned before, Korean funerals last three days, and those three days begin as soon as the person has died. There is so much to arrange and to do that there is an entire industry built around the planning and efficient running of funerals. All large hospitals in Korea have a separate wing of what we would call funeral homes, although they are very different from our Western idea of a funeral home. Since many funerals could be happening at once, each family gets their own hall.

Our first evening was spent planning and preparing the hall. We set up the tables and arranged plates as best we could. The funeral planning company provided all of the supplies, including clothing for us to wear. The men wore suits and the women wore black hanbok. I found the hanbok to be quite comfortable, actually. By midnight, all of the preparations were complete, and the family was ready to sleep. According to Korean tradition, the family must stay with the body until burial.

By 7 AM the next day, everyone was up and hard at work. Flowers and even a few visitors were arriving. We hired a crew of ladies to prepare and serve food for the guests (and essential part of every funeral). By far the most emotionally difficult part is what came next. Around 10 o'clock, we gathered in the mortician's room to watch them prepare the body for burial. To me, this was a beautiful and special moment. Many years ago, when Park's grandmother was still healthy, she had made her own burial clothing for herself and for her husband. It was beautifully made in the Buddhist tradition, and every detail and necessary article had been considered. As they dressed her, I thought that, really, death isn't anything to be afraid of. Meet it as you would an other part of your life. Park's grandmother was prepared for this moment; she was not afraid. Her body was wrapped in several layers of cloth and then tied up like a package with strips of colored cloth arranged in patterns, almost like flowers. They placed her in a simple coffin, and then attached several prayers to the outside as a way of keeping her body safe. It was a difficult moment for the entire family.

The rest of the day was spent in the back-breaking work of greeting and feeding visitors, hundreds of visitors.

At the entrance of the funeral hall is a shoe closet (one must always remove one's shoes) and a desk where a member of the family will greet visitors, and visitors can sign their name in the guest book and leave a donation to help defray the cost of the funeral (a very practical and wonderful tradition that we should adopt in the West, by the way). After entering, visitors must pay their respects to the deceased. In Korea, they do not display the body. Rather, most people at some point in their lives will take what is called a "funeral portrait". This portrait is to be displayed at the funeral. It's a nice way to help remember that person as they were before they became sick.

At a Buddhist funeral, visitors first light a stick of incense then bow to the ground twice and then once at the waist. Protestants refuse to bow because they think it's idolatry, so they lay flowers instead. Once you're done paying your respects to the dead, then you bow to the ground in greeting to the family. They will likewise bow back. I thought this part was especially hard on Park's family. The men of the family are responsible for greeting visitors, which means that Park's father and uncles (and sometimes he and his brothers) were getting up and down almost constantly throughout the day. A tiny closet of a room was set aside for family members to rest out of sight of visitors, but hardly anyone had the time to use it. The visits were never-ending and only increased as the day went on and approached dinner time. We had to rent out two halls just to fit all of the people.

Unfortunately, my narration has to end here. I had a violent allergic reaction to the incense, and had to go home. By the end of the day, my skin and eyes were burning, red, and swollen, and I could barely see. Park drove me home. Around 6 AM, Park was brought home too. After working until 3 AM, he had taken a short nap and woken to discover that he couldn't open his eyes because they burned so much. His brother had to lead him into our house. Final funeral rites began at 4:30 AM, and the family departed for the burial site on the family mountain at 7. Grandmother was laid to rest next to her husband. A local temple will continue to pray for her soul for the next 100 days. Park and I had to miss all of this, though, because we were both physically incapable of seeing.

As I said, Korean funerals are hard.

This title is purposely vague

One of the most difficult things about living abroad is the realization that life back in your home country does not stop when you leave it behind for awhile. You cannot press the pause button and then hit resume when you're ready to go back. That was difficult for me to understand at first, but now I really enjoy surveying the social landscape and seeing how my many friends and acquaintances have progressed since we last me. We are becoming adults, a thought that used to terrify me in my early 20s, but now I find exciting.

I have friends who have studied and worked all over the world, from Russia, to Austria, Nicaragua, Liberia, England, Ireland, and even Iceland. I have a friend who is living her dual dream of raising exotic reptiles while working as a researcher at the Field Museum in Chicago. I have at least three friends who are becoming priests, and one friend who is about to become a Dominican nun. I have friends who are studying to become doctors, nurses, and teachers. I have friends who are budding writers and philosophers, journalists, actors, fashion designers, and even one friend who works on Broadway. Many of my friends have gotten married, and I've had to miss the weddings and rely on photographs to see the joy of their union. Some of my friends even have children of their own, and are proving to be the excellent parents we always knew they could be. In my own family, we've seen quite a few marriages and even more births. I ache to hold and play with the chidren, knowing that if I don't come back soon, I'll forever be only a distant aunt or cousin.

Life is wonderful, ever-changing. I came to Korea a little more than 3 years ago. I was almost 23 years old, fresh out of college, and my primary concerns were the last vestiges of late-blooming teenage angst and whether I would find a good place for Liturgical Music. That was three years ago. Since then, I've become a pretty good teacher, a bomb cook, and the proud owner of two cats (a kitten followed me home a few days ago) and a hamster. Two years and a half years ago, I met a man at a hookah bar in Gangnam. A year later, he traveled all the way to America to meet my family. Shortly after, he asked me to marry him. Seven months ago, I married that man. And in February, we'll be expecting the newest addition to our family.

My dearest friends and family (the people who read this blog, I guess.), we're having a baby!


*applause*

Now, I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, so I'll go ahead and answer them now.

Yes, we will have our baby in Korea. There's a lot of reasons for that. For one, it's a lot cheaper. Second, the care here is really excellent. There's a top-notch women's hospital near our house, where I can go for all of my check-ups, etc. Our doctor is very professional, and she speaks English, which is really a must. Each check-up starts with an ultrasound, and the video of the ultrasound is saved, so I can go back to watch it later on my phone. They also LOVE to do tests, so we've had to say no to a number of them, simply because they are so unnecessary. (Why test for Down Syndrome? Would you really love your baby any less if it were disabled? If so, you probably shouldn't be a parent.) After giving birth, most Korean women spend 2 to 3 weeks in a recovery hospital. They take care of all of your needs and help you out with all baby-care. I think it's a great way to help women recover, rather than our American way of rushing you out the door. I plan to stay in one for at least a week, until my mom arrives to help out.

Pregnancy in Korea is a Big Deal. That is the advantage of having a baby in a country with a low birth-rate, I guess. I have received care packages from several government agencies in addition to 500 dollars to be used for pregnancy-related medical expenses. The community health center also provides free pre-natal vitamins and a plethora of also free child-care classes. The Seoul Metro has specially reserved pregnant women seats, which these days have been color-coded bright pink. Random people, upon hearing that I'm pregnant will offer me special foods, and certain adjummas have developed a tendency to pat my butt. In some cases, it's become rather overwhelming. While all of this attention is well-meaning, I don't like being told, "you should rest more" (if I slept any more, I would be a bear) or "make sure you eat healthy" (yes, I'll get right on that after I finish throwing up), or "don't carry things" (are you volunteering to carry everything for me now?) or (my favorite) "don't dance around so much", as if the sudden movement of my body will somehow damage our baby. At seven weeks of pregnancy, I was even barred from going down a water slide. These days, I feel like a Special Citizen. Sometimes it's good, but mostly I wish people would realize that I'm still a normal person.

Park's family is, naturally, incredibly excited. This will be their very first grandchild. Park's mother is always stopping by with some fresh fruit. She buys me peaches by the pound. Park's father delights in taking us out to eat whatever it is I crave. Sadly, I mostly crave American food, so he can't always help me there. My parents are also excited, but in a different way. This will be their tenth grandchild, after all. At least they're experience!

We don't know the gender yet, though we're pretty sure we will be able to tell by our next check-up (I'm at 16 weeks now). Korea is a little bit awkward, though. Even though abortion is illegal, some unscrupulous people might still be inclined to get one if the baby's gender isn't what they'd hoped. Therefore, doctors in Korea aren't allowed to specifically tell you the gender of your baby. They can, however, give you hints. For example: "Hey doctor, should I buy blue or pink clothing?" "You should buy blue." Bam. The doctor has told you the gender without telling you the gender. You're good to go.

Finally, I'm sure there is some curiosity about what citizenship our baby will have. Korea does citizenship by blood, whereas American does citizenship by blood and location. Therefore, as a half-Korean, half-American, our baby will be granted dual citizenship. Of course, if it's a boy and he wants to stay a Korean citizen, that also means he will have to join the army when he gets older. But that's something to worry about later.

Well, I think that covers everything. Until next time, ta ta.

Korean Wedding Photography

Guess who's back?

It took me a long time to come back here. There are a lot of reasons for that. For one thing, planning a wedding is a terrible, horrible thing. For another thing, life. Life, in the words of Dr. Malcolm from my favorite movie about dinosaurs eating people, finds a way. In this case, life found a way to keep me from writing. But not more, life! You aren't the boss of me! I shake my fist at thee!

So, in case you're wondering, the wedding happened. Park and I were united in Christ at Holy Transfiguration Church in McLean, VA. Holy T, as we members affectionately call it, has been my home parish my entire life. If you're ever in the area and want to see authentic Eastern Rite worship, Divine Liturgy is at 10:30 on Sunday. Go. You may be lost (I can't see the priest!). You may be confused (Why is everything in Greek and Arabic?). But it will be fantastic. Just make sure you wear some comfortable shoes.


Anyway, the wedding was awesome, but even more awesome is being married. My students tell me that I think this because I'm still in the honeymoon phase. This may be true. However, I feel as though when you're committed to each other, when you know that there are struggles ahead, you have a certainty that everything will work itself out. Every time we disagree about something, there is a foregone conclusion that, by the end of the day, we'll be okay. We have to be.

But enough about that. I'm not here to tell you about how to have a happy marriage (hint: I don't know the answer to that question) or even to bore you with tales of the mishaps at our wedding (there were oh-so-many). Instead, I'm here to tell you about the wonderful world of Korean wedding photography.

We woke up like this.

Korean weddings are, to be honest, quite boring by American standards. There is some kind of ceremony, during which most guests play with their phones, and then there is a giant buffet. In order to get into the buffet, guests must give a monetary donation. Then you eat and leave. That's it. Korea has a whole industry of wedding halls set up just for the purpose of these weddings, and they are probably much easier on everyone involved. How, then, to create interesting and lasting memories? That's where the photographs come in. These photos are taken several months before the wedding.

To get started, you first need a planning agency. Well, you don't really need one, but it makes everything so much easier. Fortunately, Park used to work as a part-timer for a wedding planner! So we went to her to employ her services. Now that you're at the planner's office, you need to look through albums and pick 1) your photographer 2) your dress company 3) your hair and make-up studio.

Several months passed. Then, two weeks before the shoot, we got to pick our clothing. In Korea, brides make the incredibly wise choice of renting their wedding dresses. Of course, I mean wedding dresses plural. Our photo shoot needed two wedding dresses, an evening gown, a cocktail dress, and our hanbok. Since these dresses are for photo purposes only, the do not have to be in any way practical. Thus, every dress I wore made it impossible for me to walk unassisted, and sitting was mostly impossible.

Sitting yes. Walking no.

Now for the day of the shoot. Call time was 6:30 AM. We arrived at the salon, and the awesome people there got right to work. For the first time in life, I appreciated the effort that must go into making celebrities always look good. Make up took one hour. I didn't think make up could ever take that long, but it did. They went all out. There was a woman who specialized in foundation. Then I was passed on to a woman who specialized in eyes. She even gave me fake lashes. Finally, there was a woman who specialized in lips. Now on to hair. I think Korean salons have an apprentice system. I started with two apprentice hair stylists. Then, when all of the necessary preliminaries were in plance, only then did the master stylist take over to finish. Meanwhile, the others stood back and watched in wonder while my hair met its fabulous fate. I will maintain that I have never nor probably will ever look as good as I looked on that day.

Time for my daily selfie.

Meanwhile, Park was also in the make up and hair chair, but, being a man, it didn't take as long. Two hours later, we both looked great. The first dress and the tux arrived, and we changed right at the salon. It is important to mention now that all of this dressing and undressing and walking is impossible by myself. This is why, for a nominal fee, one can also hire a lady whose sole job is to help one with these things. Which is exactly what we we did.

We arrived at the photography studio and got right down to business. The studio was a giant room with various backgrounds and settings. In one corner was a book store. In another corner was a Victorian living room. There were lots of props as well, such as bouquets, bicycles, benches, giant chairs, and a large rabbit head. Typical studio stuff.

This was Park's favorite picture because he didn't have to smile.

Then we took pictures for the next six hours. There was no time for food. No time for coffee. No time for the bathroom. Just a quick succession of photos and quick changes and then more photos. When our time in the studio was over, we went for a walk in Apgujeong, one of Seoul's more affluent and cute neighborhoods, and took more pictures in our regular clothes. I was so impressed by the photographer's ability to get us to pose just right and smile just so. He also had a really good eye for how to make everything look beautiful. We were in the middle of a city, and yet we looked like the only people there.

A few weeks later, we went back to the studio to pick out the photos for our album. These photos would be lovingly photoshopped and be ready in time for us to display at our wedding.

So there you have it, folks. The Korean wedding photo industry. I wish they had such a thing in the states. These photos are going to be a great memory when we're older. We can look back and see how we looked and how we looked at each other. They're also cute! And, in the case that the photos at one's actual wedding don't turn out the way one wants, there's always these photos to fall back on. So, what do you think? Worth it?

On the campaign trail

Hello, my name is Park SangHong, 2-가. Please take this card. Thank you.

Wait. That's not me. Sorry. Let me start again.

Greetings, sentient life-forms! It's easy to forgot how you're supposed to talk to people when you've spent your last two months on the campaign trail. For those of you who don't know, MyungSoo's father, SangHong, ran for Seodaemun district council. Seoul has 25 districts, known as a gu, each with their own slew of elected officials. Seocho, where I work, and Gangnam, where I used to live, are some of the wealthiest gu's. Seodaemun district falls somewhere in the middle. It's not too rich, and it's not too poor. It's just right, really. And it's far enough away from the center of Seoul to make the people much nicer and nature much closer. A ten minute walk can get you to a hiking trail, and five minutes later you can completely forget that you're in the middle of a city of 10 million.

But I digress. MyungSoo's father ran for election, which, of course, meant that we were immediately signed up as volunteers. At the beginning of the campaign, I had no idea what was going on. Mr. Park would text me something along the lines of, "I miss you! Come over for lunch today!" So I'd come over for lunch, only to discover that lunch was delivery Chinese at campaign headquarters and the price of admission was agreeing to hand out business cards for the rest of the day. Politicians are tricky. Don't trust them ever.

Korea is very strict about who gets to work for political campaigns. Volunteers have to be over the age of 19 and must be registered with the election office, at which point they are given a special name tag that they have to wear at all times while campaigning. Family members are also allowed to campaign, but they still need a name tag. With three sons over the age of 19, Mr. Park had hit the campaigning jackpot. And so it was that the Park brothers found themselves involved in politics for the first time.
 Since I'm not a Korean citizen, I'm not legally allowed to campaign, so I spent most of my time following MyungSoo, bowing and thanking people whenever they took a business card.

No, really. I insist. Take it. Please. I have a lot. Like, my house is full of them. I can't sleep at night because I'm surrounded by SangHong's face.

You may be wondering why I was even part of the campaign. That was part of Mr. Park's devious strategy. First, the potential voter sees me. I smile. They smile back (who can resist the charming smile of a determined American girl), then Park introduces himself as the son of a candidate and hands over the business card before anyone can say no. Then we smile and bow and thank the voter together. If we were lucky, this would frequently devolve into a conversation something like this:
Voter: "Who's this?"
Park: "This is my fiancee."
Voter: "Wow, so pretty. What country?"
Me: "I'm American."
Voter: "You're so lucky! So who is this guy on the card?"
Park: "That's my father."
Voter: "He's so lucky too!"


SangHong was already famous in the community before his election. He's been a volunteer for the community for many years now and had friends everywhere (Literally everywhere. It's actually kind of creepy.). His reputation is perfect, and it just got better and better as the campaign continued and other candidates started pulling out dirty tricks. It wasn't long before our campaign became the one to beat.

I was a problem. Due to legal reasons, I was not allowed to campaign. However, voters clearly associated me with the SangHong campaign. One candidate sent a worker to follow me and take pictures of me in an attempt to catch me doing illegal activities. While campaigning from the back of a truck, we noticed a car following us. As they drove past, MyungSoo realized that the passenger had been filming me. After that, I had to stop campaigning on the truck. I wasn't the only target, though. Things got downright nasty one Sunday morning. MyungSoo was campaigning on a street corner with a bunch of other volunteers from different campaigns. Suddenly, a worker from the 1-나 candidate's campaign attacked the daughter of the 2-나 candidate. She accused the girl of being a prostitute and insisted she was there illegally. She tried to rip the girl's name tag away from her, all the while shouting profanities. MyungSoo stepped in and told her to calm down. She didn't. Meanwhile, another worker had called the police. By the time I showed up, the police were mediating between the two candidates, who were demanding apologies, while MyungSoo stood by as an official police witness. A few days later, the same candidate sent a volunteer to take pictures of MyungSoo's aunt. As a member of the family, she was allowed to campaign for her brother. However, no one recognized her, and assumed she was there illegally. The aunt became incredibly upset about such an invasion of privacy, and called her brother. Mr. Park arrived in all his wrath and demanded a public apology. He got it, by the way. The candidate apologized and deleted the pictures.

There is so much more I could talk about. I could talk about the campaign trucks. In order to reach the most number of people, candidates stand on trucks and drive slowly through the town, making campaign promises, while volunteers wave. I could talk about how every campaign is color-coded. Volunteers have special hats, gloves, umbrellas, etc. and stand together in the street holding signs and bowing to passersby. At the start of the campaign, which is legally limited to very short time period, candidates fight to get the best spots to place their banners. Mr. Park sent workers to hold his spot starting from 5 AM and kept someone there all day until midnight when the banner could finally be unfurled. Going to church on Sunday is like running a gauntlet because every candidate sends people to stand outside every major church. Mr. Park kept trying to encourage me to go to Mass at the large Catholic church in the neighborhood. MyungSoo and I politely declined because it was an incredibly ugly church and it's pretty tacky to switch churches for political reasons.

Remember that time Mr. Park forced us to dance to Gangnam Style at the neighborhood singing contest? Turns out that someone took a picture and decided to use this as part of our campaign.

The election board posts pictures of all the candidates together so that voters can see their options.

The campaign truck. These things are so awesome.

On the night of the election, we all gathered at campaign headquarters to watch the results come in. It was a big election, as the post of Seoul city mayor was up for grabs, a position that in some ways is even more powerful than that of the president's. The results didn't come in until around midnight, but they were exactly what we wanted. Sweet, sweet victory. Mr. Park made a short speech and gave flowers to his family. KwangSoo, MyungSoo's younger brother, got special thanks. He suspended his semester just to help his father and rarely complained, even when he should have. Then a bunch of enthusiastic adjusshis got their hands on champagne, and sprayed everyone and everything. Poor MinSoo had to clean it up.

Victory and champagne!

Funeral Rites

Two years ago, Park's grandfather died. I hadn't met Park yet at this point, so I never had the opportunity to meet the man. However, I was able to come just a bit closer to him this past weekend. There's a Korean tradition, which is Buddhist in origin, in which the family prepares a giant meal for the soul of the deceased each year on the day before the anniversary of their death. Traditionally, this meal includes more than thirty different dishes and is served at midnight.

The rite is usually done at home, so we drove out to Yesan, where Park's grandmother still lives alone. She's one of those stubborn ladies who refuses to quit working, despite old age and the chronic pain that accompanies it. She's a very humble woman and a devout Buddhist. This weekend was also Golden Week, a time during which almost all schools and companies are closed, so, unfortunately, the roads were hellish and terrible. Park and I left Seoul at 10 AM via train and arrived in Yesan shortly before. Park's mother and brothers left Seoul at 7 AM via car and arrived at 2 PM. I hate driving in Korea. Upon arrival, Park's father picked us up, and we went to the traditional market to buy all of the ingredients. Traditional markets are so exciting. There's every type of food imaginable. Fresh vegetables and fruits, still covered in the dirt from the farm; live octopuses and crabs climbing over each other, clams squirting water in every direction; a table sagging under the weight of freshly plucked chickens, their owner wielding a large knife, ready to carve them up to order; strange fish that look like alien face-huggers, medium-sized sharks, and dried anchovies; every type of kimchi; flowers and vegetable plants for one's own garden; and dog. Yes, there was someone selling dog meat. That was the first time I've ever seen dog for sale. It did not look appealing.

Blood sausage, anyone?

Formal stores are for wimps. Real shoppers do it on the street.

Fresh fish, owned by a lady who really knew how to use a knife.

Anyway, after buying our ingredients, we headed back to the house and proceeded to cook. It was like cooking for Chuseok, except there seemed to be even more of it. I chopped things, fried things, took a nap, then fried more things. I don't know how the other members of the family were able to keep working without keeling over. In fact, the other ladies of the family made me look like a downright wimp. By 10 PM, everything was finally ready.

While the ladies of the family cooked the food, the men's responsibility was to arrange the food. Presentation and quantity are very important in the rite. Red foods are arranged to the west, while white foods are arranged toward the east. Certain numbers must be avoided, such as the number four (the Chinese character for four is the same as the one for death, so four is a very unlucky number). Other numbers, such as three or five are considered lucky, though, so it is important to arrange the food in these quantities. Park's father did most of the arranging, until his grandfather's oldest brother's oldest son (the senior member of the family) showed up to help him. It's the responsibility of the oldest man in the family to manage family rites, so he's the expert in this matter. They also spent a good deal of time showing Park's oldest brother, JeongSoo how to arrange the food, since it will be his responsibility eventually.

Mr. Park, cutting the watermelon. I'm not sure why, but it's important to cut the tops off.

Mr. Park arranging the fried stuff. See those? I helped make those. All 300 of them.

Grandmother Park cutting up some kind of pancake. Notice the fancy bowls and plates. Those are only used for the rite.

Almost all of the dishes.

The small table in front is important, as you will soon hear.

Once the food was finally prepared and arranged, they placed a small bowl on the table in front of the food and lit some incense. The incense is meant to tell the the spirit that it's time to come over for his meal. Once the family was assembled, it was time to start. Every bowed 2 times to ground and once at the waist. Then, the senior member of the family knelt in front of the table holding a cup. Another family member pored alcohol into the cup, not all at once, but three times. Then the man holding the cup passed it around the incense three times. Everyone bowed 2.5 times again, and then we left the room. The belief is that while everyone is out of the room, the spirit of the deceased can come eat his meal. After a short time, we came back. The alcohol on the table was poured out, and we repeated the process of pouring alcohol again and bowing. Each family member, from highest to lowest held the cup and passed it around the incense three times, then bowed. Since I'll soon be part of the family, I was also allowed to participate. However, Park did all of the cup-holding, since he's a man. Some might find that discriminatory or old-fashioned, but I think there's a sort of dignified beauty about it. When everyone was finished, the rite was over. The huge upside of all Korean traditions is the food. Grandfather Park was done with his meal, so now it was up to the living to enjoy it.

I love the idea of the funeral rites. I think it's a beautiful way for a family to remember their deceased parents and grandparents by getting together and praying for their souls. And, most importantly, it's a rite that also sees to the needs of the living. Once the rite is over, everyone who helped prepare it gets to eat. If you don't see your family often, it's also a way of making sure that you regularly do see each other.

The next day, we returned to Seoul, laden down with rice cakes, fruit, and lots of fried goodies. We also stopped off at the vacation home of a politically significant guy that Park's father wanted to meet with. I think it's okay to mention now that Park's father is running for Seodaemun district council. We've been helping out his campaign by passing out his business cards, going to meetings, and introducing ourselves to everyone under the sun. I've become the campaign mascot. It's sort of embarrassing, actually. I do a lot of awkward smiling and bowing as Mr. Park proudly introduces me as his future daughter and everyone marvels at "the American". Anyway, this was one of those meetings. The guy and his wife own a beautiful vacation home in the countryside, where they have frequent barbeque parties for their friends and acquaintances. I wish I could do that too. That sounds like an awesome retirement. As we made our way toward the food table, I was in for a shock. Lying on the carving board was...dog. And next to it was a giant cauldron of spicy dog soup. Fortunately, there was also pork available. We opted for the pork.

On Being Happily Engaged

For the longest time, I couldn't think of anything to write. Then spring came, and my desire to be in front of a computer diminished rapidly. But now I'm back at last because I can finally write about what I've been dying to share for months now. Park and I are engaged! Officially!

The whole purpose of our trip to America, though my parents had no idea, was for Park to ask them if we could get married. Despite being an unconventional sort, I feel very strongly about marriage traditions. So when Park first brought up the possibility of marriage months and months ago, I was initially terrified, and then told him he had to ask my parents first before I would say yes. This gave me the extra time to really pray, consider, and discuss with various friends and priests the true implications of marriage. Of course, Park's sincerity and determination eventually won me over, and one night in Virginia, over homemade apple pie, he asked my parents if he could marry me. My dad was smiling and nodding before Park had even finished. My mom was pleased, but also shocked. This is so soon, she cried! But, in the end, she said yes too. Just as Park won me over with sincerity and determination, so too did he win over my parents (though I'm sure they were also charmed by his cooking and cleaning skills and his expertise in the handling of firearms). My brothers had already suspected the purpose of our visit, so they just assumed Park would eventually join our family. As they also approved of him (he is very skilled in the handling of children), we came back to Korea full of confidence in our future prospects.

However, being a traditional sort, as I said, I wanted an official proposal. Perhaps I am vain. Too bad. I wanted to be able to tell everyone about the exact moment when Park asked me to marry him. I not only got an official proposal, but also a beautiful ring. Park designed it himself, and a jeweler friend of his mother's made it. They gave Park a nice discount and inserted a larger diamond than the one he had paid for. Even though Park just got a job, we're both very limited financially, so it was a wonderful surprise.

Behold it's golden glimmering!

Because Easter is my favorite holiday (How could Christ's victory over death NOT be your favorite holiday), Park had planned on proposing over dinner. However, we spent most of the day lazily eating chocolate, ice cream, and vast quantities of meat while watching Ben Hur, so the moment didn't seem right. So the next day, he came over after work with some candles and a bottle of wine and I made the leftover steak wrapped in bacon from our Easter Sunday festivities. Yes, I cried. Yes, I stayed up until 3 AM calling various friends and family members to relate the news.

Now you all probably have questions. Here are some answers.

Where will the wedding be?
We were originally hoping to have a Melkite wedding at my home church, Holy Transfiguration Melkite Greek Catholic Church, but the logistics of planning a wedding while not physically there, of flying to the US to get married, then immediately flying back, and of paying for all of this while still paying off student loans was too daunting to think about. Yes, we could probably save up all the money and make it work, but we would probably have to save for several years. The first bit of advice my priest gave me was to not be engaged for more than a year. I'll take that advice. So, the wedding will be in Seoul, Korea! No idea yet which church we'll use, though.
Also, if you just despaired because that is so far away, fear not! We'll have a vow renewal ceremony in the US the next time we're over there so that everyone can come. 

Edit: Just kidding, folks! It's going to be at Holy Transfiguration in McLean, VA! Your dreams of crashing our wedding can finally come true!

When will the wedding be?
 Not really sure yet. Hopefully, this year. We're waiting on a few factors before we decide. Those factors include the results of the upcoming Seodaemun district council election in June, in which Park's father is running for a seat (I've been helping with the campaign. Lots of bowing, handing out cards, and smiling while I'm introduced as the future daughter-in-law. I'm sort of like the campaign mascot), and whether or not Park's family decides to follow the old tradition in which the oldest son needs to be married first before the younger ones can marry. I'm a huge fan of tradition, but, in this case, I hope they decide to set this one aside. If all goes well, Park and I will be married before this year is over.

Edit: Hurray, we have a date! January 2nd, 2015. 

Where will you live?
Park just got a job with a Korean company. I have a very specific skill set that enables me to easily get a job in Korea. Even if I left my current job, I wouldn't have to spend very long looking for a new one. So, yes, we will be in Korea for at least another year or two. However, we do plan to come to US eventually! For a long time, Park's dream has been to live and work in the US. We want to start our own business and make a life together. Right now, that life will start in Korea, where we can hopefully save up money for future investments.
As for a house, the Korean tradition is for the groom's family to buy a house for the new couple. Park's father had the foresight to buy houses for each of his four sons, and he manages them by renting them out. When we get married, we can move into our very own house. As is to be expected, that house is only about a ten minute walk from Park's parents. Quality time with the in-laws!

What do his parents think of you?
A lot of people mistakenly think that Park's parents would be suspicious of a foreigner bride who has charmed her way into the heart of their beloved son and who doesn't even speak Korean. Park's parents love me! Aside from the stream of text messages asking me to hang out, go shopping, or eat dinner together, they also send me frequent gifts. When I moved into my new apartment, Park's father came over with a year's supply of toilet paper (A truly life-saving gift. Seriously). When I was low on cash, Park's mother sent me a bag of rice from their grandmother's rice farm and a huge supply of sweet potatoes. When I told her I liked her kimchi, she sent me a huge tupperware of the stuff. Even though we can't easily talk to each other, there has never been a time when I felt unwelcome at their house. Park's family is incredibly kind and generous.
Of course, Park's mother was suspicious at first. There are plenty of dumb foreigners who come to this country looking for an easy hook-up. But then Park told his mother that I am Catholic, and she instantly relaxed. Even though his family isn't religious, they love Catholics. Catholics have a great reputation in Korea. The Church does a lot of good works and their love of tradition sets them apart from the often abrasive and over-zealous Protestants. Possibly because of this, Catholics and Buddhists usually have a good relationship, meaning that the older generation, who are mostly Buddhist, also like Catholics. It's a wonderful dynamic. This is probably also why Park's Buddhist grandmother didn't mind his conversion to Catholicism.

Will you wear a hanbok at your wedding?
Yes. I love hanbok. I have been dreaming of getting a hanbok ever since I first saw one. The usual tradition is for the bride and groom to wear Western style wedding attire for the actual wedding ceremony and then to change into hanbok for a second ceremony afterwards, in which they bow to their parents. So I assume Park and I will also do that.

Your children will be beautiful. 
That's not a question. But, yes, I know.  And, God willing, we will have many of them.

How does this whole citizenship thing work?
Honestly, I haven't looked into it much yet. But apparently, I can get a dual citizenship. Park, unfortunately, cannot. He wants to keep his Korean citizenship, though, so when we do move to the US, he'll just get permanent residency. As for our children, they'll have both. Unfortunately for the boys, that means that if they want to keep their Korean citizenship, they'll have to do their two years of Korean army service. I'm okay with that.

Do you ever have trouble communicating?
Of course, just like every couple ever, we sometimes have trouble communicating. But then language and culture make that even more difficult. Park will be the first to admit that his English isn't perfect, and my Korean is so abysmal that I can barely stutter out a few lines of conversation before running out of things to say. When we first started dating, we did have a lot of culture-related miscommunications. I constantly worried if we would be able to understand each other. But after awhile, I realized that my fears were unfounded. When you base your communication upon mutual trust, that trust can make up for any linguistic failures. That, and spending as much time together learning about how the other person thinks and feels. When my mom met Park for the first time, she was astonished to discover how well we compliment each other. Anyone who's married will tell you that good communication is key to a good relationship. We've worked really hard to make sure we have that.

How does Park feel about America?
Park thinks America is pretty cool. He especially enjoys the variety of each state and region. American food is awesome, he says.

How did you meet?
At a hookah bar in Gangnam, which goes by the name of Rainbow. One could best describe it as a dimly-lit dungeon with marijuana-inspired decor that smells like incense and hookah smoke. On weekends, they have live music and psychedelic DJs as well as bongo drums for the musically-inclined. You take off your shoes and sit at your hookah with your drink and enjoy the feeling of being in Seoul but completely outside of it. At least, that was our plan. No sooner had Sarah and I sat down, when a young Korean man came over and asked if he and his friend could talk to us. He added that they would pay for out hookah and drinks. We said yes. This young man was, of course, Park. Later that night, after going to karaoke, Park walked me home. About twenty minutes later, he texted me to ask me out on a date. I was charmed by his honesty (raise you hand if you hate it when guys ask to "hang out" when you know they really want to go on a date but are too afraid to ask because they're worried you'll say no), so I accepted.
The true humor of our story, though, is the reason why Park was there. Earlier in the evening, Park and his friend SungPyo had been drinking together, when SungPyo said he wanted to go to a hook-up bar, a bar where one meets girls, essentially. SungPyo called up a friend, who recommended Rainbow. But Rainbow is not a hook-up bar. It is a hookah bar. Upon arriving, the two friends realized their mistake, but were still determined to salvage the evening. After losing at rock-paper-scissors, Park was sent over to our table to initiate conversation. The rest is history.

Here's to a good future.

I realize that many of my friends haven't been able to meet Park, and that makes me sad. But never fear. He's every bit the gentleman. I hope one day everyone will know that from experience.

Final note: I never dreamed in a million years that this would be my life. When I started this blog, I thought I would be in Korea for one year, share my experiences, and go home again to do something else. I don't want to turn all preachy on you, but, seriously, you never know where God will take you next. Don't count on anything. Don't plan too much. I'm so glad this is my life.