Korea is called the Land of the Morning Calm. And there’s a saying here among the American rank, file & families…the Land of Not Quite Right.

That whole ‘close, but no cigar’ bit.

Trying to recreate the American experience, take the 4th of July for example, on foreign soil can never be quite right though.

It’s true. But it’s also true of any culture transplanted into another one.

Do you think your town could pull off an authentic German Ocktoberfest to impress a Berliner? Would you expect China to know how to throw a rodeo that would make a cowboy proud? Or Egypt to replicate your grandmother’s banana pudding?…Shoot – do you think Virginia Tex-Mex restaurants taste anything like real Tex-Mex? Or that I could make kimchi so delicious that the Lumber Barons would beg for the recipe?

I’ll give you a hint – NO!

Oh, everyone could get close (in varying degrees) but it wouldn’t be quite right.

And that’s the only way to describe our 4th of July this year – not quite right.

Homesickness is a powerful thing. Whether you’re stationed in South Carolina missing Arizona, or in South Korea missing Texas. It comes in cycles (as I’ve said before) and it can be the worst during American holidays.

It’s worse because, believe it or not, you have built-in expectations of what the holiday should look like, feel like, smell & taste like. And yes, every American’s expectations are slightly different – but when you boil it all down, I would bet you they’re all the same.

But back to the story at hand…

It was hot. Sticky hot. There were sticky hot melting people as far as the eye could see.

And as the sun went down & the evening show was about to start it finally began to cool a bit…and then things began to drift a little “not quite right”.

From out of the blue – with no announcement whatsoever, in English or Hangul thank-you-very-much - the Korean orchestra began playing the American national anthem.

Military personnel & families popped up left & right as we were all caught off guard…hurrying to stand at attention or put their hand over their hearts. While the Koreans sitting through out the field & bleachers remained in their seats, whispering to one another, wondering if they should stand up, too. It was awkward…for everyone.

But that’s when it hit me.

I was standing up…and they were sitting down.

There was just something about standing up to be counted among the Americans when standing on foreign soil.

And in that act of standing up I felt an overwhelming flood of emotion.

Home. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home right now & I was umpteen thousand miles away. And as all those thoughts raced through my head I realized two things: no one was singing (granted, the guys can’t while at attention) & that the lack of voices made it seem so much more hollow.

And a tear or two rolled down my cheek. I tried to quickly wipe it away, but nope…Eric caught me.

[damn]

So here’s a hint for the guys: Sometimes us girls just want to shed a tear without it being seen…without it being pointed out. It’s usually because we know our emotions are getting the best of us & we don’t want to be caught looking silly – crying over the odd thing here or there.

So if you catch us…ok, ok, if you catch me…do me a favor. Don’t make a big deal of it. Don’t ask me to explain why there are tears rolling down my face. Just move on. The explaining is only going to make me cry more.

So he & I went through the whole exchange:

Eric: ‘Are you crying?’

Jenn: ‘No’

Eric: ‘Yes, you’re crying’

Jenn: ‘Ok, I’m crying’

Eric: ‘But why are you crying?’

[damn it]

Jenn: ‘I’m just homesick.’

Thankfully the traditional Korean music & drummers began to play & I didn’t have to continue explaining. I’ve already showed you clips of both groups. They were really great & they gave me a chance to redirect my thoughts away from home.

Shortly afterwards the General got up to say a few words & announce that due to an expected inbound storm they were going to have to change the rest of the night’s line up.

The orchestra would play the 1812 Overture first, the fireworks would follow(really wish it could’ve been timed together, but oh well) & afterwards the orchestra would continue with the rest of their scheduled performance.

I held my breath…yes, I know it’s silly. I haven’t heard the overture live in several years & this was the moment…the moment I was going to commit to memory to stave off homesickness.

And as I closed my eyes the strings began to play.

…da dum da dahhh dah-dah….da dah dah da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-dah dahhh dah dum…

[pictures of a neighborhood farm]

So back to the story of the gift.

I was getting what turned out to be a partial at-home-spa treatment for free!

I raced around cleaning the house of all the embarrassing left-out dishes, scattered dog toys & dining table junk. I didn’t want them walking in to see a messy house.

Which, off topic, why is it the house always get trashed over the weekend? During the week I’m on it, Baby. Sweeping, cleaning, dusting…I’m near fanatic about it. I have this vision that my tombstone is going to say ‘Here lies Jennifer. That girl could sweep.’

But by the time I got everything looking respectable they were at the door.

My friend, “Mary”, and the spa consultant?…spa expert?…spa practitioner?…I’m not exactly sure what her title is, but let’s call her “Kim”.

The first hurdle in our upcoming adventure was Moo.

One of Libby’s lasting legacieshas been to teach Moo to bark incessantly anytime someone’s at the door. Big…deep…booming…barks.

(The kind that make the Jehovah’s Witnesses think twice about ringing the doorbell.)

So I ordered Moo upstairs, welcomed them in, turned to get the baby gate to put up across the bottom of the stairs & in that split-second Moo started to make her way back down the steps.

In my haste to fuss at Mooch, get her to turn around & go back up, Kim ran into the bathroom to hide, crouching behind Mary who was her last line of defense against the monster living in our house.

I apologized profusely for the scare – Maggie hadn’t even made it halfway down the stairs. But it was enough to frighten her to death. Her’s was the typical Korean response…

“Oh! Oh! Oh!….[pointing]…Beeg dog!…Oh! Oh! Oh no!…[hand over gapping mouth]“

Lovely…hadn’t even got the girl into the living room yet. But things settled a bit & she proceeded to give me an initial consultation before working her magic bag of nickles.

Kim asked the questions in Hangul & Mary translated.

‘Where do you hurt?’….’How long has it hurt?’…’Do you have a lot of stress?’…on & on.

And as the questions were asked Kim began touching my shoulders, feeling my neck…trying to get an idea of how tense everything was. Which was immediately followed by a lively discussion in Hangul between Kim & Mary.

Apparently, I was in “bad shape”. So bad that my partial treatment became a full-on-body treatment. And before I knew it, I was stripped down to my panties, face down on the couch cushions laid out on the floor.

So you have to picture it – my big 5′7″ oversized Texas woman frame all spayed out surrounded by two little petite, perfectly proportionate delicate Korean women.

They began squirting the proprietary gel on my back & with hand-sized gadgets emitting an electrical pulse began systematically pushing the gel into my skin.

That would be the politically correct version.

The reality was that this little, petite Korean girl – all of 25 - might as well have had been pounding on my back with a bag of nickles.

It didn’t really hurt at first…but pound on something long enough & soon you’ll be hurting. I thought it would just be a quick 20, 30 minute rub-down. Afterall, I was getting this for free. But they kept going & kept going & kept going. And I started to worry a bit.

Eric wasn’t home yet – he had no idea I had people over, let alone I would be almost stark naked in the living room with two little Korean women rubbing me down with vibrating electrical devices. And before I knew it I heard…

“Ahh……hello, sexy wife.”

And for a moment, Eric thought he was the luckiest husband alive.

[images of the Lumber Baron's sunflowers]

Ok…so I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell this story now for a couple of days.

I’m in a tricky predicament & want to make sure I both honor, respect & truly convey how appreciative I am for the wonderful gift from my Korean friend earlier this week. But at the same time…it was an experience worth telling in all it’s outrageously funny glory.

So my friend (and you know who you are), if you’re reading this….please, please, please, please, please, PLLL-EASE don’t hate me. I can’t thank you enough for everything you did!

And you were right, the first few days I felt completely exhausted…but I was amazed to recognize how much better I feel today. And all of that is because of you.

So I hope you are able to read this in the spirit in which it’s written…out of great love, respect for our cultural differences and the laughter that those differences can bring.

[ahem]

Without further ado…ladies & now 3 gentlemen of the blog…I bring you the tale of…

= HOW I SURVIVED BEING BEATEN WITH A BAG OF NICKELS =

Monday was a car day for me. Meaning I dropped Eric off at work & I took the one car we share for the day. There was an errand I had to run (which is another story entirely). But in the process of running this errand, I ran into my friend – let’s call her “Mary”.

Mary has been very sick for the past couple of months. Like me, she was trying every doctor, every treatment available to her…and unfortunately, she too was getting the run around.

The doctors couldn’t pin-point what she had, what was making her sick in the first place or how to treat it. So they decided to “manage” the symptoms with medication.

The medication left her near comatose…walking around like a zombie when she was awake. She was exhausted, pale, droopy-eyed, slurring a bit and emotionally spent.

But when I ran into her Monday it was like night & day.

She looked GORGEOUS!

Beautiful clear, glowing, youthful skin – and she had NO make-up on. Her eyes were bright & alert. Her speech was excited & she was happy. Even a total stranger could tell how healthy & vibrant she looked.

She had found an alternative treatment for what ailed her…and for her…it had worked miracles. She was completely sold on it and rightly so.

In fact, she was so convinced on how great a treatment this was, that she immediately told me I needed to try it. Given all the headaches I’d been having earlier in the year…the lack of diagnosis for what’s ailing me…she thought this might help me, too.

So before I knew it she was scheduling time to come over to my house with the girl who treated her in order to give me a partial treatment – just my neck & shoulders – for free.

It was her gift to me…and I had no idea what I was getting into.

[part 2 tomorrow]

Confession – I’m horrible at thank you’s.

[hand to God]

Horrible.

I always want to say something special, something well-thought/well-crafted, something that shows the deep respect & care in return that was shown to me.

And I suck at it.

I wind-up hesitating because I tell myself, “give it a bit & it will come to you”.

But it never does.

And inevitably, time passes…MUCH too much time passes.

Then it becomes downright awkward & more embarrassing to say the simple ‘thank you’ that was really all that was needed to begin with and I wind up never saying it at all.

So! Now that I’ve confessed my procrastinating gratefulness sin, let me thank everyone at once in no particular order.

(And if I’ve accidentally missed someone, please forgive me! It’s not intentional – just headache induced amnesia.)

Thank you, Lisa
Ahh…Lisa. My Chica. My Best Friend. The friend that sends me bottles of BBQ sauce and boxes of Ding-Dongs and still loves me even though I didn’t get her birthday present in the mail on time. (Ok, at all - yet.) Oh, how I love you!

Thank you, Aunt Terri
You are my kick in the butt. My ever-smiling, ever-constant source of happiness. You fill the hole that was left in me almost ten years ago & for that I am ever grateful.

Thank you, H-Girl
While you don’t know it, I cannot thank you enough for being a “real” blogger. Your courage to write both the up’s & down’s of life makes me feel less weird for thinking I’m the only one who isn’t Miss Molly Sunshine 24/7. I just can’t do the dog & pony shows. That plus I want your life. Wanna trade?

Thank you, Cynthia
I don’t even begin to know where & how to thank you. You’ve become the biggest blessing of my life and for that you will always be in my heart.

Thank you, Val
I think you were my first non-family/non-friend commenter and believe me, you have NO IDEA how thankful I am that you’ve stuck around through all my rants & raves.

Thank you, Debbie
Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts & prayers. I remember being so thrilled to find another “Tex-Pat”…(Texan living outside the state). Someone who could relate to the indescribable nuances there are in life away from home.

Thank you, Gen
You always have such great things to share & make me feel like my little idiosyncrasies about life overseas aren’t just me. That other people have experienced this, too (ok, so maybe not the big, fat American bit).

Thank you, Sandra
I was SO disappointed to hear the run-around you’ve been getting about the medical position over here. And as much as I wish I could say I’m surprised, I’m not. It seems nothing here is simple & straight-forward…even a simple paperwork request for a second vehicle – which I’m sure Cynthia will tell you all about.

Thank you, OK Granny
I loved your posts about the winter weather. As corny as it sounds, seeing your shot of the weather man’s weekly forecast from the TV screen made it feel like home. We don’t get AFN at the house & I’ve come to find out that even if we did, we still wouldn’t get a traditional weather report. But isn’t that a funny thing to miss? A simple Al-Roker-esque update on whether or not I should dash to the commissary for milk & more dog food one more time before the weather dumps on us?

Thank you, Karen
You’ve been so great to keep reading through all my madness & have been very kind to put up with all my “hate the system” negativity.

So…knowing I’ve probably missed like another 10 people…but not remembering who, I’ll end this post with two things:

1) Got my MRI scheduled for Friday, March 5th and the Neurology consult for the 23rd. I figure if the Radiologist finds something big & scary in my head, he’ll be able to make the call to the Neurologist to get me in pronto.

2) Worst ‘thank you’ moment of my life was 2007.

I had employers who thought it only fitting & sentimental after a big corporate event to have everyone thank the person to their right…going around the whole room…whether you actually worked closely with that person or not.

And while I can’t remember exactly what I said (I had worked 120 hours in 7 days), I do remember coming to the realization a few days later that I had absolutely, positively said the wrong thing.

Somehow the phrase, “even though she had no experience at all” came in there somewhere. And ever since then I get completely humiliated even at just the thought of it.

So Camilia, if you ever happen to read this…please, please, PLEASE forgive me.

*Before you ask, yes…still in pain. Tomorrow makes 2 weeks straight & I’ve decided everyone is tired of hearing me complain about my head hurting.

So no more! We’ve got important things to discuss here, people!

Like how I’ve had so many embarrassing moments while living in Korea that I’ve officially had to start counting them to keep them all straight.

It’ll be great…our own inside joke system. I’ll say ‘Number Twelve!’ and everyone will roll around on the floor laughing.

[ok, maybe not so much]

But here it is….Number Twelve….in all it’s absolute, horrifying, want-to-go-hide-in-a-corner-&-never-come-out glory.

I’ll call it….

= THE BIG FAT AMERICAN =

A few weeks ago Eric & I decided to swing into Charley’s to grab some lunch to go.

Charley’s is a staple of the American military food vendor system – everywhere you go, there’s a Charley’s.

It’s a cheese steak kind of place, where they cook up hot beef or chicken sub sandwiches.

But you’ll notice that this Charley’s isn’t in the PX food court – it’s attached to a Shoppette (their word, not mine) not far from the mail room.

Shoppette: Kid you not, the official term for all the base’s 7-11 like convenience stores. I mean really, could they think of a more silly word for a bunch of testosterone-pumping Little Green Men to have to use on a daily basis.

For example, ’Hey, I’m goin’ to the shoppette – you want me to pick you up another strawberry-mango wine cooler & some cherry chapstick?’

And because the two businesses occupy one non-descript military industrial steel building, there’s a pass-through inside.

See?…

Just turn left & you’re smack dab in the middle of the shoppette.

So here is where our story begins.

Eric & I walk in…and before heading up to the counter to order he says,

“Get me a regular Philly Cheese Steak with extra sauce – I’m going next door to get us some chips & drinks.”

So I saunter my happy butt up to the counter to find Ms. Korea 2003 working away in her perfectly starched size extra-petite uniform as she says in her broken English,

“Yew-ah ordeh?”

‘Yes, please – I need one regular Philly Cheese Steak with extra sauce and one regular Chicken Buffalo.’

“Yew-ah wannta comm-bow?”

‘No, thank you – just the sandwiches.’

Without batting an eye she punches in the order & meekly steps to the back to fiddle with the fry machine.

As I’m standing there in line waiting for them to finish up the orders of the soldiers in front of us, Eric finally makes his way back across to the Charley’s side to stand in line next to me.

At which point, Ms. Korea 2003 turns to see us together.

Suddenly she let out a very big, yet still highly feminine laugh – almost doubling over..looking me dead in the eye…and says…

“Ohh…yew-ah…ordeh…forah…tewh!!!”

[deep, dramatic bow with sweeping hand flourish]

Ladies & 2 Gentlemen of the blog, I give you Number Twleve.

Thank you & Goodnight.