So to catch everyone up…in case you’re just now joining…I was sharing that I tend to be a little biased when I attend events – any events, big or small.

Just as a seamstress can spot a crooked hem, a police officer can point out security gaps, I see the background details of event management.

Don’t get me wrong, I was no big wig during my time then…just another grunt in the planning & executing background. But I got to watch & over the course of 2 years I learned a lot.

So as excited as I was to attend Freedom Fest this year (we missed the majority of it last year), I tried to adjust my expectations. But I couldn’t help it…I was excited.

The information put out by the base said that the Korean Ministry of National Defense Philharmonic Orchestra… (put that on a business card)…would be playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture – the quintessential American 4th of July experience.

Music…fireworks…food…it was gonna be great. A chance to finally feel…if even for just a moment…American again.

[sigh]

I’ve come to learn that the longer & longer you live overseas, the less & less you feel like an American. It can’t be helped. You’re living in a foreign country submerssed in a completely foreign culture.

You’re just so removed from everything familiar that you find yourself clinging to any chance to feel American again. And it’s normal. So for all you wives heading this way, just be prepared & know that you’re not alone.

But Tchaikovsky & fireworks!?!…It couldn’t get any better.

True…the program also included traditional Korean music & performances…but still.

I crossed my fingers that the orchestra had coordinated with the base to have cannon fire in the background to really help sell the overture, but I didn’t hold my breath. I figured that might be expecting too much.

I imagined closing my eyes when the music & fireworks were going full blast just so that I could picture myself at home. Transported by the sound of it all.

And I was going to set every detail, every sound, every boom to memory. It was going to sustain me when the homesickness cycle kicked in again.

That was the plan.

That was not, however, how it worked out.

My old boss had a saying…

‘THERE WILL BE WEATHER.’

It was his way of letting us know to expect things to turn on a dime should the skies open up, the heat melt everyone into puddles or high winds knock all our hard work down.

And in July…in Korea…weather means monsoon season…

Sticky, humid, melting, monsoon season.

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I know, I know…I’m leaving you hanging on two fronts now & I’m sorry. But I thought you might like to see another glimpse of the music performers at Freedom Fest since I’m really out of it today.

This is a clip of the drum solo during the traditional Korean music presentation & I loved watching their faces. You can tell they really enjoy what they do.

As for me…my headache came back around 10 this morning & I’ve not been able to get it to go away yet.

It makes me fuzzy. It’s hard to think straight & all I want to do is sleep.

So we’ll try all this again tomorrow.

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Last night was Freedom Fest at Camp Humphreys.

And among the American holidays celebrated here, this one’s the biggest.

It was a great experience with a few great pictures to share – along with this video – but I’m still not exactly sure how I want to tell the story of it.

But for now, I thought you would enjoy a quick glimpse of the traditional Korean drum troop that performed.

It goes a little fuzzy in the middle for a sec, but it will clear up again.

Enjoy! And I hope you had a great Fourth!

(And yes, I’ll pick up the story of the gift tomorrow.)

Life at Humphreys is like life in a very small town.

You’re constantly running into people you know, people you live next door to, people in the unit.

There’s just nowhere you can go incognito when you need a little private time.

[case in point]

Heading to Osan the other day our old hooptie turned in front of me.

Same license plate as the one we got a year ago.

Same faded gray paint.

Same cracked dashboard with no working A/C.

But the guy behind the wheel was not the guy we sold it to. It had changed hands.

This was a husband, wife, little boy & the family dog with his head out the window.

In calculating both the time we’ve been here & the average time for Humphreys hooptie ownership, I figure it’s been bought & sold anywhere from 4 – 6 times this past year.

Part necessity – part environment.

You just don’t see very many big, shiny, flashy cars here.

There’s no ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ in Korea – at least not around Humphreys.

No one snickers because you’re driving a 1993 Hyundai Exel with faded paint, a cracked dash & no A/C – here they ask if you’re going to be selling it anytime soon, because they’d like to buy it off you.

One of the things I like about small-town Korea & one of the things I’ll hate when we get back home.

[outside the KATUSA Snack Bar on base]

I’ve had this post written in my head for weeks now. But every time I sit down to write it out, I get stuck. Something holds me back.

(It also doesn’t help that every time I think I’m finally ready…the dogs want in, or out as the case may be. Fudge it…hold on. Libby wants out.)

But tomorrow marks the 365th day I’ve been in Korea.

A solid year.

A year I wasn’t sure I could survive.

A year I didn’t want to spend here in the first place.

And that’s the truth of it…I didn’t want to come to Korea.

But our previous station had been a nightmare in more ways than I can count.

Eric’s mandated time as an Army Recruiter in Oklahoma was a nightmare I can’t even begin to describe & wouldn’t wish on anyone else. And by sweat, tears & near blood he finally got released early.

But being released early meant “needs of the Army”.

Needs of the Army: Another bit of lovely Army lingo. It means you go where they send you. No choice, no suggestions, no pulling strings. It’s a roll of the dice & you hope it doesn’t come up snake eyes.

Needs of the Army turned out to be Korea.

And I had no choice.

Well…ok, I take that back. At the time it didn’t feel like I had a choice. I was an Army wife. I went where the Army sent us.

The truth is that Eric could’ve done a year while I stayed with family. A year apart & we’d back together stationed in Texas.

But I had made a promise. I promised the day we married that I would “go where you go” & that promise out-weighed any misgivings I had about Korea.

Of course it didn’t help that it took 5 months to get our command sponsorship approved so I could join him. And it didn’t help that there was no information from the wives’ perspective on what to bring, what it’s like, what to expect.

I came over blind.

I fought & struggled to survive the first 3 – 6 months. I was a ”wife in a box” & I was very resentful.

Over time the struggle lessened. Days came when I felt at ease…almost at home. And days came when I cried myself to sleep desperately wanting to go back home.

So I’ll tell you a secret…since I’m confessing everything here anyway…choosing to be an Army wife is choosing to give up control over your own life.

And it sucks.

I was a career woman very much accustomed to plotting my own course. And as an Army wife you have no hand in anything.

So you begin to crave control.

(Well, I did anyway.)

And when you can’t control any of the big stuff, you cling to the little things you can control.

And for me…it was the KATUSA Snack Bar.

KATUSA Snack Bar:(cah-too-sah) A Korean restaurant on base for the Korean soldiers serving their time with the US Army to go & eat local food.

Yep…how ridiculous is that?

I flat-out refused to go. I didn’t care how much Eric wanted to. I didn’t care how much he’d say I’d love it. I wasn’t going & you couldn’t make me.

It was the one thing I didn’t want to give up.

I had given up family, friends, my career, my truck, my Tex-Mex, my independence, and now my country…all for love.

But damn it, something of me had to remain. There had to be something that I controlled.

So I refused to go to the snack bar.

354 days later…I went.

And I loved it.

(Ok, so maybe not the Kimchi. Still haven’t acquired a taste for it.)

Coming to Korea was hard. Staying in Korea was harder…at first.

But I feel more at ease now, more relaxed. As of tomorrow I’ve officially spent a year here. I know what to expect and I’ve already helped a couple of wives make the crossing as well.

(Turns out when you Google “life at camp humphreys” the blog comes up.)

So if you’re a wife looking to know more about life in Korea, shoot me an email. I’d be glad to cut through the Army propaganda & answer any questions you may have in order to make your own decision.

But whatever you decide…the one thing I can tell you, is that I recommend the beef fried rice.