Yonsei International Health Clinic (10 June)

With a day off from school, and in absolutely frustration with ongoing stomach pain, I decide to make an appointment with the American doctor at Yonsei’s International Health Clinic in Seoul.  I’m hoping that a more western approach at this clinic will reassure me and finally rid me of the gastritis that I’ve apparently had since mid-March.

While the approach is more western and all of the doctors and nurses speak good English, I can’t honestly say that the appointment is worth the trip or even the expense.  The staff are all friendly and helpful but, at the end of the day, I’m told to get an endoscopy and ultrasound done in Gunsan since I’m unable to come back to the clinic the following week before being given a script for more medication.

If I were to have surgery, I would definitely choose to have it done at Yonsei but for regular doctor’s visits, apart from being more convenient to go to doctor in Gunsan or Jeonju, the quality of the visit seems to be pretty much the same.  

April Fool’s Giddy Girl (1 April)

Incredibly, I’ve forgotten that today is April Fool’s Day.  I had planned the most perfect prank for my students but it required the involvement of my co-teachers and this is where I’ve fallen flat – I forgot to speak to them and fill them in on the prank!  Since my school seems to have only just accepted that I’m actually planning to stay for at least the duration of my current contract, I was going to tell my students that I’ve decided to go back to SA and see what the reaction was.  Apparently this would be a bit mean so maybe it’s a good thing that it didn’t pan out as I’d hoped.  My poor planning didn’t prevent my students from pranking me however.

After my first lesson of the day, I must have decided that April Fool’s Day isn’t really acknowledged in Korea.  I was a little disappointed that my first (and favourite) class hadn’t done some type of prank so I am a bit surprised when Mr Jeong tells me to watch out for student pranks just before I enter my second lesson of the day.  As I walk into the classroom, I see them scurrying to get into position for their prank.  My students have turned their jerseys and ties around and are facing the back of the class.  It’s a well-organised prank and I appreciate the trouble they’ve gone to in organising things so I decide to play along for a few minutes. 

No Ms Kim, It's Not Radiation Poisoning...

My co-teacher arrives about 5 minutes into the lesson and doesn’t seem to appreciate the humour.  With that, the prank is over and students return to their normal positions and bored expressions.  In the scramble for books, I notice one of the boys looks like he’s about the throw up – and he does, right next to my co-teacher who looks horrified and scared.  A couple of the students look concerned to see that he’s thrown up blood, I’m a little confused as to what’s going on and my co-teacher quickly shuffles him out of the room while asking if he’s okay.  My attempts to begin the lesson are in vain as everyone’s attention is focused on the student and teacher outside.  Suddenly, the student jumps up shouting some form of surprise word, which my co-teacher seemed thrilled to hear.  She’s visibly relieved to discover the blood is nothing more than a fake blood capsule and an well-timed April Fool’s joke rather than some serious health condition or reaction to the feared radiation poisoning that heading straight to Korea from Japan. 

The students seem to have planned fairly elaborate pranks for several teachers throughout the day and this is a topic of much discussion among the teachers during lunch.  I’m surprised to discover that today is also my fantastic co-teacher’s birthday.  I find it rather ironic that today is her birthday since I’ve been meaning to ask her for several weeks when her birthday is.  I’m happy, however, that the English teachers – who are all sitting together at lunch today – are actually speaking English and including me in the general conversation. 

Mistranslations and Interesting Conversations 

I leave school early for an acupuncture appointment.  My back is really sore but I’m also, undeniably, looking forward to seeing cute doctor again since it’s been a while.  The co-ordinator seems happy to see me and tells me that it’s been a while since she last saw me.  Cute doctor seems just as happy to see me.  He greets me with, “Long time no see” and comments, in Korean, that it’s good to see me.  I get cheeky for a moment and ask if he’s happy to see me even though it means he has to speak English but, as usual, I speak too fast.  All he says is, “too fast” so I repeat myself at a slower pace, which still doesn’t seem to be successful.  The co-ordinator translates what I’ve said as, “even though you can’t speak English” which seems to prompt cute doctor into proving me wrong. 

He tells me that he saw me about a month prior to this outside Angel-in-us coffee shop, meeting a friend.  He specifies that it was a female friend because he knows I’m single – I’m assuming it was Catfish he saw me with – and that he was very happy to see me then.  I’m disappointed that he saw me but didn’t say hello and I tell him this. His response: “I’m shy boy” which prompts me to sing the Korean pop song ‘Shy boy’, which just happens to be playing on the radio at that moment.  I seem to embarrass him too much because he scurries away for something.  While he’s gone, the co-ordinator tells me that Koreans are shy to speak to foreigners when they see them unexpectedly even when they know the people – it has to do with a lack of confidence in speaking English.  Nevertheless, I make cute doctor promise to say hello to me the next time he sees me somewhere other than the medical centre. 

The co-ordinator keeps disappearing during the consultation and cute doctor seems to be out to prove that he can hold a conversation in English.  He also seems to be trying to say something else but is uncertain of how to proceed.  I’m confused by his comments of “hav[ing] an idea that [I] might not like” and “want[ing] to talk to me lots” despite his bad English.  I’m a little too enthusiastic when I hear this and respond in a manner not too dissimilar to that of a golden retriever pup.  He tries really hard to communicate with me in English and I’m impressed that he’s managed to keep it up for nearly two hours.  He even goes so far as to show me an anatomy book, in English, to try and explain what he thinks is wrong with me. 

Towards the end of the appointment, his confidence seems to have grown and he tells me that he wishes he could speak better English so that he could show me how funny he really is.  He says that he’s actually a very funny person, and has a good sense of humour, but this doesn’t translate well due to his bad English.  I’m touched that he seems so concerned about the impression he makes and assure him that I do find him funny. 

Out of the blue, he asks if I have any Korean friends and seems somewhat taken aback when I confirm that I actually do although most of them live in Seoul.  His next question is how I know people who live in Seoul followed by whether or not my Korean friends speak English (yes again) which seems to intimidate him – especially when I try to make him feel more comfortable by telling him that most of them are English teachers or deal with foreigners regularly; unfortunately, this seems to backfire rather than work as I’d hoped.  Despite this, he continues to talk to me and informs me that he is currently doing his compulsory military service; that is how he ended up working at the Gunsan Medical Centre. 

When he asks me how he can improve his English, my brain shouts that this is the perfect opportunity to say, “Let’s hang out” but I don’t and the opportunity quickly passes while I proceed to kick myself repeatedly.  Again, he seems rather concerned about the impression he seems to be making on me and is eager to clarify that he actually had good marks for English when he was at school but that he is now old (32) and English is difficult.  He’s also quick to apologise for causing me pain during the treatment when he asks if I hate him for hurting me before repeatedly telling me that he doesn’t want to hurt me – a common statement from oriental medicine doctors who recognise that acupuncture is rather foreign to many westerners. 

At 5pm, I feel a bit guilty that he’s still working with me although he seems quite content.  I’m relieved to find out that, as of today, the medical centre is open until 6pm so I have nothing to worry about.  After confirming another appointment for the following Friday, I text Catfish and we arrange to meet for dinner at Hoa Binh.  Not having brought my yoga things with me, I have to rush home to change and get my things before heading back to Naun-dong at 8:20pm for yoga. 

Not So Pleasant News

By the time I finally get home for the evening, I’m exhausted.  I switch on my computer to check e-mails before heading to bed and my delirious mood takes a sudden nosedive at the news awaiting me.  My mom has e-mailed to inform me that my cousin’s dog was cruelly murdered and thrown into a dumpster near their house and that my cousin, with whom my parents are currently staying in Cyprus, has been rushed to hospital for an emergency operation to have a rather large ovarian cyst removed.  I feel torn between my elation at today’s conversation with cute doctor and the disturbing news of my cousin and helpless in the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do until at least 4pm tomorrow afternoon thanks to the time difference. 

Happy to See Me? (17 February)

My back is incredibly tense and, cute doctor aside, I do firmly believe that acupuncture makes a difference.  The fact that the oriental doctor I visit happens to be an absolute sweetheart and cute is simply a bonus and one that I thoroughly enjoy.  Since we are currently working semi-flexi-time at school, I ask to leave school early on Thursday afternoon in order to have a doctor’s appointment.  It’s only been about three weeks since my last visit but I really miss chatting with the cute doctor.  The coordinator/translator at the Medical Centre seems to think that I only make appointments with the cute doctor because I like him but she’s more than happy to oblige when I text her with a request to make the appointment for me. 

 

I arrive at the Medical Centre’s Oriental Medicine Department and am greeted in the usual friendly manner.  As I chat to the coordinator, the nurse joins the conversation saying that she has the same symptoms as me which, honestly, is something of a relief to hear.  We probably only chat for about 10 minutes as I sit with the suction caps on my back which, I’m told, draw blood to the surface and help to improve circulation.  While chatting, I’m aware of the fact that cute doctor is in the cubicle right next to me treating another patient.  As he finishes with that patient, he seems to also become aware of the fact that we’re speaking English in the very next cubicle and I hear the curtain behind me move as a rather excited Dr Kim exclaims something in Korean followed by my name over and over again.  I don’t have to understand much Korean to know that he’s asking if it’s really me who’s back and he soon changes to English as he greets me while struggling to contain his apparent enthusiasm.  With the suction caps on my back, I’m hesitant to turn around lest I accidentally loosen them so I simply lift a hand an wave while saying hello.  Within a minute, he’s gone around to enter my cubicle from the front and seems to have regained his composure slightly; this time he greets me a little more calmly with a "Long time no see" as the nurse leaves with a huge smile on her face.  I get the impression my visits to cute doctor are something along the lines of an entertaining Korean drama for the staff in this department.

Long Time No See

As cute doctor asks the usual questions about my symptoms, the translator tells him that the nurse mentioned that she has the same symptoms as me.  He seems surprised and calls the nurse over to tell him what her symptoms are because, clearly speaking Korean, it’s easier to hear this from another Korean person than from a foreigner via a translator.  He decides that my qui is blocked and hurries to fetch a larger needle than the usual ones for acupuncture.  With increasing trepidation on my part, he explains that he is going to use this larger needle to try and unblock my qui which he thinks is causing the tension and pain in my back; I’m not too happy about this new approach but I trust his judgement despite the cautionary voice somewhere inside of me that tells me that this is going to hurt like hell.  The voice is right….

Each stab of the needle feels like a hot knife being pushed into the most painful parts of my pain and then wiggled around a little bit to help unblock the passageways that are currently obstructed.  I understand that this is not a deliberate attempt on his part to hurt me and cause me further pain but I can feel the tears rapidly springing to my eyes.  Pride will not allow me to cry in front of cute doctor but when he starts prodding around my neck with the big needle, I can’t help but freak out a little.  I’ve always been sensitive about things done to my and particularly when they involve needles – even more so in the last two years since going through a biopsy for thyroid gland problems leading to surgery to remove my thyroid gland just over a year ago.  The neurotic part of me decides that even if this cute doctor, he’s still not going anywhere near my throat with that needle and I sense his hesitancy when I try to express this. 

Before I know it, the appointment is over and I seem to have offended him in some way.   As I get dressed again, I can’t help but feel a little despondent that today’s appointment has ended so abruptly with him once again returning to the sanctuary of his office.  It’s quite a surprise then that the translator insists on me saying goodbye to him on my way out, and even knocks on his office door to tell him that I’m leaving.  I’m rather relieved to discover that he is still friendly and happy to chat to me despite my earlier hesitancy with the treatment he recommended.  I leave the Medical Centre with a spring in my step and head to the ESL bookstore next to the CGV cinema to purchase our Korean grammar books for our lessons thinking of how much I enjoy just chatting to the cute doctor and wishing that I could see him outside of the hospital sometime.

Surprise! Surprise! Sur…huh? (7 February)

Back at school after a great vacation, I’m disappointed to discover my scratchy throat seems to be feeling worse and my voice seems to be undecided as to whether or not it’s still on vacation.  Fortunately, I’m only deskwarming for the next three weeks so I’m not too concerned about my rapidly disappearing voice.  Fate, however, seems to have other plans as I soon discover when, at 10:50, Mr Jeong phones me to tell me that we’re following our regular timetable this week since it is the final week of the 2010 academic calendar.  This means that I have a class in 10 minutes.  While he apologises profusely, stating that he thought we’d already been told about this week’s timetable, I run through possible lesson ideas.  I’m actually glad that we’re following a proper timetable again and, as I later tell my co-teacher and Mr Jeong, at least we were given 10 minutes warning instead of only hearing the news after the class has already started.  Their response is that I’ve completed adjusted to Korea and settled in at school. 

With a hastily formulated conversation lesson, NZ1 and I head to the first lesson where we end up just chatting to the students.  I spend a lot of the lesson telling them about my vacation trips to Jeju, Countdown Seoul and Phoenix Park and the students seem to enjoy my anecdotes of my failed ski attempts.  I don’t mind poking fun at myself when it makes students respond and I’m glad the seem to be enjoying the break from their otherwise rigorous timetables. 

By the end of the day, I’m in a good mood and my thoughts quickly return to the cute doctor.  I’ve posted so many comments about the cute doctor on Facebook that friends have asked for a photo of him.  It’s not like I can whip out my camera in an appointment though and take a photo of him – well, I can but I’m not outgoing enough to take this approach.  Instead, I settle for trawling through the Korean version of the Medical Centre’s website until I finally hit the jackpot: A photo of cute doctor with a few key points of where he studied.  I also discover that more than half of my appointments with him have been on days that he’s not the scheduled doctor for outpatients yet still he saw me.  This partly explains why he could spend so much time chatting to me and yet, I find myself more confused than ever before….

Curiouser and Curiouser (31 January)

Having spent the weekend in my apartment studying Korean phrases and talking myself up to chat to the cute doctor even more today, I arrive at the Oriental Medicine department feeling very confident.  When I text the translator to tell her that I’m at the right department, I even tell her that it’s okay if she needs to attend to other foreigners or paperwork because Dr Kim and I can understand each other.  Within minutes, she’s walking towards me with a big smile and greeting me.  A doctor stops her and asks her something while pointing at me, pointing towards Dr Kim’s office and then showing blushing cheeks while asking something in Korean with a wide grin – she’s asking if I’m the foreigner who made the cute doctor blush in December and Sunny affirms this with a broad grin. Apparently all of the doctors on the first floor have heard the story of how I made the cute doctor blush!  Sunny then sits beside me where she notices my nails and comments on them favourably before we move inside.

We Can Communicate!

We continue to chat while the nurse starts the first part of the treatment and then later while we wait for Dr Kim who is busy doing hospital rounds.  The nurse has already told me that it’s going to be a long wait which I don’t mind; I come from a country where waiting hours for a doctor is common practise and I’m chatting to the translator anyway about a variety of topics.  Just before Dr Kim arrives, the nurse pokes her head into the cubicle and says something to the translator who jumps up and excuses herself to use the restroom.  Within a few minutes of her departure, Dr Kim greets me with a big smile and seems far more relaxed today. He notices the book in my hand and makes a comment about my studying hard.  I place the book behind me with the rest of my things where he sees the cover and seems surprised that it’s a Korean phrase book.  He tells me that he studied English over the weekend and I take this bit of information as a good sign. 

The translator is gone for quite a while but cute doctor and I manage to communicate fairly successfully with one another.  He even mentions that my birthday of the previous week and wishes me a belated happy birthday.  I’m slightly disappointed when the translator returns and I expect the conversation to return to Korean entirely as the two of them chat over me.  Surprisingly, the cute doctor continues to alternate between English and Korean which I appreciate.  When he proceeds to give me an injection in my elbow, he pauses long enough to warn me that it may hurt slightly since there’s very little space in this particular part of the body.  I anticipated that it would hurt but the pain is worse than I imagined.  I don’t have a high pain tolerance and I cry fairly easily.  My ego won’t allow me to cry in front of this doctor so I start laughing which is what I do when I can’t cry. 

My arm feels like it’s on fire!  As I move my other hand to massage my arm slightly, cute doctor takes my arm and does it for me.  He then positions the needles in my back and asks where I’m going skiing – everything I’ve told Sunny has been relayed to the cute doctor.  He chats to me briefly about where I’m going skiing and then tells me to enjoy my trip and “take care” before he leaves again.  I struggle to hide my disappointment as I say goodbye thinking that this is probably the last time I’ll see him.  Within minutes, he’s back and eager to chat some more. 

So...Let's Chat

He asks if I had a birthday party so I tell him of the surprise party that my friends held for me a week before my birthday.  He then gleefully tells me that he’s slightly older than me which I proceed to tease him about.  Had I been able to think quicker on my feet, I would probably have commented that I have to do everything he says on account of his being older than me but that doesn’t come to me at the time.  He then asks if he may look at my Korean book and pages through it with interest, asking if I can read the Hangeul or if I only read the romanization of each phrase.  I can read Hangeul and actually find it easier to decipher the pronunciation.  I watch as he seems to look for something in the book before he turns to me with a cheeky grin and says that he thinks I’ve only read the first 30 pages.  Conveniently, he’s opened the book to a page that has an old bus ticket as a book mark although that’s not a true reflection of what I’ve read in the book.  When I respond that I’ve actually read through the book three times already, he nonchalantly tells me that I still need to read it 97 times.

The cute doctor seems quite content to just sit and chat to me and the translator despite the fact that my appointment is pretty much over.  Eventually I’m told to change back into my clothes so that he can do the final, and my favourite, part.  The other doctor is busy finishing the treatment of a patient so we wait a few minutes and continue chatting about nothing in particular.  During the final part, the translator once again leaves the room and the cute doctor tells me to be careful skiing because he doesn’t want me to get hurt.  I somehow manage to maintain a calm exterior while my heart thuds in my chest.  By the time he finishes the spine and neck adjustment, the translator has returned and it’s time to leave.  However, the cute doctor seems eager to continue the conversation and keeps asking questions like why I came to Korea and how long I’ve been here.  When I tell him that I’ve been in Korea for four months, he asks why he hadn’t seen me in the first three months.  What answer do I give?  Eventually, it is time for me to leave having been at this appointment for over two and a half hours!

I leave the Medical Centre in a giddy delight and hurry to Catfish’s apartment to tell her of my morning’s adventures.  We have lunch together at the Kimbap restaurant near Lotte mart before I have to head back to the Medical Centre for the nerve test that I was referred for to assess the numbness I’ve been experiencing for the past month in my left hand.

Nerve Test and a Sadistic Doctor

The first part of the nerve test involves an electromagnetic pulse stimulation that feels a little strange but generally does not hurt.  Since the first part of the test goes so well, and the doctor is very kind and considerate, I don’t really give much thought to the second part of the test until I’m lying on the bed with my hand stretched toward the doctor brandishing an ominous looking needle.  I ask if there will be only one needle in this test but I’m out of luck – it involves three needles.  I’m not quite sure of what to expect in this part of the test since it’s not common practice to question doctors or ask for explanations of medical things in Korea; everyone simply trusts that doctor’s know better. 

The first needle is pushed into the muscle at the base of my thumb.  Not only is it pushed in hard, but the doctor then proceeds to dig it even further into the muscle while wriggling it around.  Anyone who has had a needle moved while it is partially inserted into any part of your body will know just how painful this can be – in a muscle, it feels even worse!  The pain is incredible and I can feel tears welling in my eyes.  This is not a very friendly or sympathetic doctor and I don’t quite know what to expect next.

The second needle is jabbed into the muscle on the side of my hand in line with my little finger.  Again, it is dug deeper and deeper into my hand while this sadistic doctor makes wide arcs with the needle.  I look at him in terror as I anticipate the third needle and I can’t help sobbing in pain as he grinds the needle into the muscle of an already aching hand.  The third needle is just as bad and I now know that he’ll be just as ruthless so I find myself clenching my body while he tells me to relax.  I can’t help thinking, Here’s an idea: Let ME ruthlessly dig needles into YOUR hand muscle like I’m attempting to uproot a rather old tree and see if you can relax!  I’ve never been more relieved to have a procedure over as I am when this torture ends.  Without a word, the doctor gets up and leaves and the translator enters just in time to see me sobbing slightly hysterically in pain.  My hand is throbbing painfully!

You Pass

I’m told to go back to the first doctor who will do the first part of the test on my right hand to compare the results.  The sadistic doctor will then give me the test results.  I pass this particular test as he tells me, “Everything normal” before returning to his paperwork.  With only two words, he’s done his job in conveying the test results to me, made it clear that I’m not worth much of his time (less than the three minutes Korean doctors usually spend with patients) and dismissed me like a naughty schoolgirl.  Sadistic bastard! is all that I can think of as I leave the Medical Centre wishing I could go back for more acupuncture, and a chat with the cute doctor, to make myself feel better!

Don’t Leave Me… (28 January)

After one too many late nights and busy days, I allow myself to sleep in until 10:00.  When I finally do get up, I’m still thinking about the confusing conversation that took place on Wednesday morning.  I’m tired of feeling confused about everything so I’m determined to ask the translator to clarify a few things for me when I see her this afternoon for my acupuncture appointment.  In the meantime, I try to learn a few essential Korean phrases that I should probably have learnt months ago.  KiwiKat has suggested that being able to use a few Korean words or phrases might also make the cute doctor feel a bit more relaxed with me as a patient since clearly having to try to speak English is stressful.

The taxi ride to the Medical Centre is yet another bizarre one.  Finding a taxi when it’s slightly colder than usual or snowing is almost impossible.  When a taxi finally stops for me, I notice that there is already (presumably) a passenger in the front seat. It’s fairly common for drivers to take more than one passenger if they’re both going in the same direction so I assume that this is what’s happening as I get in.  On the way to the Medical Centre, I’m asked the usual five questions: Age, nationality, am I an English teacher, how long have I been in Korea, do I have a husband / boyfriend.  I feel very proud of myself as I manage to answer most of these questions in Korean and my study time this morning seems to have paid off.  It also boosts my confidence in speaking Korean and I’m certain that this confidence will carry me through my acupuncture appointment. 

On My Own

As we round the last corner to the Medical Centre, my phone rings: It’s the translator; she’s ill and isn’t at work today so I’ll be alone with the cute doctor.  Gulp! If Sunny had phoned me before I left my apartment, I would probably have just re-scheduled the appointment but I’m already here so I step forward purposefully and with false bravado.  I’m not feeling quite as confident as I enter the Medical Centre and head to the Oriental Medicine Department.  Clearly this news has already reached the department because the nurse looks at, grins and says, “This is going to be fun!” as she ushers me to a cubicle and sets up the initial part of the treatment.  I take out my phrase book that I’ve thankfully brought with me and start frantically attempting to memorize vocabulary and phrases that I think I might need to use today.

By the time Dr Kim arrives, I’m feeling a little more confident and smile encouragingly when he greets me: I can do this! He then tells me that the translator is not in today which I already know and half-jokingly follows this with a rather stressed yet comical, “Oh my god” and I can feel my confidence waiver slightly.  I’d like to think that I’m fairly perceptive and good at reading people but I don’t know what to make of this particular doctor.  He seems a little unnerved too at the prospect of having to deal with me by himself and keeps excusing himself to fetch things he’s left in his office.  This makes me feel even more self-conscious and I wish I had re-scheduled the appointment because I really feel sorry for the guy.  I wish I knew enough Korean to be able to communicate with him so that he wouldn’t have to use only English with me. 

Somehow we manage to get through the appointment with me writing down a lot of things and using lots of gestures accompanied by very simple sentences.  As I move to the chiropractic bench for the final part of the treatment, I’m actually relieved that the appointment is almost over and I conclude that I’ve seriously misunderstood Wednesday’s conversation.  I’m relieved that I didn’t embarrass myself on Wednesday on clarifying what I thought (and hoped) might be happening.  There’s a mutual silence as Dr Kim starts the final part of the treatment which is my favourite part because it’s relaxing. 

Conversation Time

The slightly awkward silence is broken by him asking me if I’m satisfied with the treatment I’ve received.  He seems slightly bashful when I confirm that I am and that I think he is a very kind and nice doctor.  He seems to be thinking very hard about something and I’m trying my best to understand why he’s suddenly talking to me; is he relieved to have survived this appointment without a translator?  He then asks me if I’ve had a particular Korean dish; I’ve never even heard of this dish much less know what it is.  He tries to explain and then stands up to face me and tells me that he had this dish for lunch so he hopes his breath doesn’t smell.  I can’t help laughing at this unexpected conversation and his expression which seems to ease some of the tension – apparently he wants to chat!  

I ask if he’s from Gunsan and he tells me that he’s originally from Seoul but has been in Gunsan for nearly two years.  I then tell him that Seoul is too busy for me and that I like Gunsan because it’s quiet.  He agrees that it’s quiet and tells me that, now, he likes Gunsan.  We chat about a few inconsequential things and the appointment is soon over.  We seem to have got into a routine of thanking each other at the end of each appointment and he waits a few moments while I say thank you and goodbye.  I then surprise him by wishing him a good weekend in Korean and he matches this in English before finally bidding me farewell.  As he leaves the room, he murmurs something to the nurse who looks at me and smiles.  She asks me to take a seat while she quickly assists another patient before turning to me with a broad smile and saying that she has to try to get me back here on Monday.  We schedule a time and I ask her to write down the code that I need in order to pay for the appointment on the second floor.

As I leave the Medical Centre, I’m elated that I’ve managed to get through the entire appointment without a translator and realise that things aren’t quite as hard as they may have seemed at the time.  I’m in a good mood and lost in my own thoughts.  As I start walking towards Catfish’s apartment, I hear a very enthusiastic English “Hello” and turn to see three high school, or possibly university students, sitting on a flight of stairs and waving at me.  I return their greeting thinking that this is probably the extent of their repertoire when they surprise me by asking me where I’m going.  Unsure as to how to answer this question, I grin and tell them I’m visiting a friend at which they express their disappointment and ask me to sit and chat to them for a while.  I decline with the excuse that I’m late and wave goodbye – if they only knew just how much older than them I actually am!

Pamper Time

Catfish and I have finally managed to secure an appointment to have our nails done and we’re looking forward to some girly salon time.  I can’t help but feel ashamed of the condition of my nails and hands in general as the manicurist gets to work on my cuticles and all of the grooming things that need to happen before the actual paint job.  I’m relieved that Catfish’s nails seem to take just as long and relax to enjoy being pampered.  It’s a lot of fun choosing different colours to try out and I can’t resist admiring my nails as they visibly improve with each step of the manicure. 

Our salon experience runs into dinner time and we merrily make our way back to Lotte mart and Hoa Binh, the Vietnamese restaurant that I’ve come to love.  Instead of our usual platter and rice wraps, however, we choose individual dishes that come with some complications for me.  The fried rice on pineapple looks mouth-wateringly delicious but contains shrimp to which I’m allergic.  I’m not in the mood for a possibly allergic reaction even if we are just down the road from the local hospital so I ask if I can order the dish without the shrimp – our server is familiar with us by now, automatically understands my request and assures me that this won’t be a problem.  Catfish decides on a seafood pho and we sit back to chat while we wait for dinner. 

Under the Sea

When the food arrives, I’m touched to discover that they’ve substituted the shrimp in my meal with chicken; we’d ask for something like this to be done in our own countries but trying to make such a request in Korean is just too difficult so it’s impressive to see that this has automatically been done at this restaurant and I really appreciate it.  Catfish’s dinner is a little too ‘under the sea’ with whole shrimp that stare accusingly from the plate, and she seems less than impressed to discover what she calls “an alien” (baby octopus) on her plate.  The staff probably think she’s crazy for not eating most of the seafood in this dish!

As is customary, dinner is followed by coffee at Doctor’s Coffee which serves the most amazing white hot chocolate.  We can’t help but laugh at the decorative topping that Catfish’s coffee receives and immediately reach for cameras to document this amusing sight.  We’re not at Doctor’s Coffee for long, talking about JH, when Catfish decides to text him to confirm their meeting place tonight.  It’s nearly 21:00 and she suddenly recalls arranging to meet him at Angel-in-us coffee which is further down the road so we say a quick goodbye, promise not to meet over the weekend so that we can have a break from each other before she runs to the next coffee shop where JH is already waiting, and I head home for the weekend. 

Remember Me? (26 January)

I have five days of vacation starting today.  Thanks to a administrative mix up, I had three months worth of pension payments deducted from my December salary so I’m not able to go to Japan for my vacation as I’d hoped.  Instead, I’m staying in Gunsan until 1 February when I’ll go to Seoul for a ski trip.  Until then, I’m just going to use the time to catch up on blog entries and relax.  To kickstart this vacation, I have an acupuncture appointment.

As I arrive at Gunsan Medical Centre, I can’t help wondering if the cute doctor will remember me after nearly a month.  I corner the translator before we get to the Oriental Medicine Department and ask her if she remembers that I made the cute doctor blush in December; she immediately starts laughing and comments on how amusing it was so I ask her if I offended him at all.  I’m pretty sure that I didn’t offend him – only embarrassed him – but I want to make sure that this is not an issue in Korea where hierarchy, respect and saving face are all highly valued.  She assures me that there’s nothing to worry about and tells me that he blushed because he’d said I was beautiful and kind.  Such a Korean answer!

Uh Oh...

When we arrive at the department, he doesn’t look very happy to see me and I again start to wonder if I inadvertently offended him in addition to embarrassing him.  The nurse, however, is as friendly as always.  I’m rather quiet as Dr Kim tries to work out the best approach for today’s treatment and I understand a few words of the ongoing conversation between him and the translator.  Soon, we’re joking around and I start to relax as I realise that he’s probably just very shy and not comfortable speaking English.  He doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave either despite there being numerous patients at the time.  Instead, he and the translator seem to be discussing something (me) at great length and I’m starting to get very curious about what’s being said. 

I Don't Understand (Again!)

Eventually, the translator turns to me with a serious expression and I can see she’s thinking very carefully of how to phrase something.  She proceeds to tell me that he didn’t have much reason to speak English until now so he and I should spend a lot of time together.  As she’s speaking to me, I notice Dr Kim watching me very carefully from the furthest corner where he is fidgeting with various things.  He’s seems slightly embarrassed when she finishes conveying everything and tells me, “just joking” with an embarrassed smile.  I’m confused.  Is he asking for English lessons or does he want to be friends?

This doesn’t dissuade him from spending a lot more time with me in this appointment than is perhaps necessary.  The nurse comes in several times to relay information to him in Korean and he sounds fairly dismissive with each “Ne, Ne”.  Each time it happens, the nurse looks at me and laughs and I’m even more confused as to what is happening.  He’s seems overly attentive in this appointment and I get the impression he definitely remembers me from my last appointments at the end of December.  He’s also telling me that I need to come back the next day.  I ask if I can rather return on Friday since I don’t really want to have a doctor’s appointment on my birthday even if it is the cute doctor. 

Trying To Work It Out

I leave the Medical Centre even more confused than I was in December and meet Catfish at Angel-in-us where we spend several hours discussing the events of the last 24 hours under the pretext of working on our respective blogs in the coffee shop.  Naturally, there leads to dinner at the Galbi restaurant where, once again, we’re treated to very attentive servers who seem to dote on as we continue, unsuccessfully, to try to puzzle out Korean men. 

Happy New Year (31 December)

It’s New Year’s Eve and hopes are high

     Kiss one year in, wave one goodbye…

Engaging With A Cute Doctor

Once again, my day starts with an acupuncture appointment with the cute doctor (last photo on the linked page).   I now know what to expect and where to go so I’m not really paying attention as I enter the Oriental Medicine section.  Out the corner of my eye, I see someone else approaching the department from the opposite direction but I’m busy sending a text message to the international coordinator to let her know that I’m at the right department so I’m somewhat surprised to realise that the person opposite me is in fact the cute doctor who is now greeting me.  He seems to have come in early just to fit me in this morning because I’d said that I’m leaving for Seoul this morning.

We’re soon going through the now familiar steps of the acupuncture procedure and I get the feeling that the cute doctor and the coordinator are talking about me.  I’ve understood a few random words to know that he’s asked what I do, where I work, where I’m from and the usual five questions I’m asked on a regular basis.  He occasionally throws in an English word or two for my benefit which I appreciate so, when he excuses himself to attend to another patient, I ask the coordinator how to say “Doctor” in Korean.  She tells me and, having asked his name the previous day, I practise saying “Thank you Dr Kim” in Korean. 

The final step of the procedure is a somewhat chiropractic manoeuvre that apparently is intended to re-align the spine or something similar.  Usually, the coordinator is with me each step of the way but, for some reason, she has excused herself from this final step and drawn the curtains around the cubicle in which I am now alone with the doctor.  When Dr Kim finishes this part of the treatment, he seems uncertain as to what to do next since he’s not comfortable speaking in English and, as far as he knows, I don’t speak or understand any Korean. 

I Don't Understand!

I’m determined to thank him in Korean because he’s the first Korean doctor who has actually treated me as a person and not a non-entity which I truly appreciate.  I hastily jump up, bow and say the line that I have so diligently been practising for past twenty minutes.  I’ve barely finished speaking when I hear several women laughing just outside of the cubicle. Dr Kim resembles a deer caught in headlights and I’m surprised to see him blushing furiously. He seems too shocked to say anything more coherent than “Oh” at first and seems to quickly think of something else. “Enjoy your party,” is all he manages before fleeing, leaving me more confused than ever. 

I hear voices outside amidst the laughter so I quickly grab my coat and bag and step outside to see what’s going on.  The coordinator seems to have rounded up all of the female staff in the Oriental Medicine Department because they’re all standing there talking and laughing at Dr Kim.  He’s in the middle of saying something to them when he sees me, blushes even more while re-enacting the deer-caught-in-headlights look and literally runs out of the room, across the hall and into his office where he quickly closes the door.  The only response from the women around me is to laugh even more and point out how much I’ve made him blush.  The head of the department, and Dr Kim’s immediate supervisor, asks me if I’m happy with the treatment I received: I’m very happy with the acupuncture but very confused as to what is currently happening.  Clearly, I’m missing a vital piece of information. 

While I talk to the head of department and a nurse, the coordinator goes across the hall to Dr Kim’s office and, while trying not to laugh too much, tells him something that I don’t understand.  I understand that I seem to have embarrassed the cute doctor but I don’t understand why so I step into the hall to wait for the coordinator.  Dr Kim’s eyes seem to widen further and further each time he sees me so the coordinator quickly takes my arm and ushers me out of the department as the laughter follows our departure down the hall.  When I ask her to explain what just happened, she simply laughs and tells me that I made him blush – I already know this; what I don’t know is why.  As she ushers me through the accounts section and to the front door, the only answer she seems willing to leave me with is: He’s worried about how much Korean you understand.  Instead of reassuring me, I leave the medical centre wondering what he could possibly have said that would make him blush so…..

Hello Again...

I head straight back to my apartment to meet Freddy so that we can meet Catfish at the bus terminal.  We’re soon on a bus and heading to Seoul where we’ll meet up with NZ2, his friend and KiwiKat in Itaewon.  The subway isn’t nearly as busy as it was the previous Friday but thanks to slow moving passengers, I’m the only one who manages to get onto the subway before the doors close – Catfish and Freddy simply wave goodbye from the platform and I mime getting off at the next stop which is Jamwon…and completely deserted.  We quickly communicate that I’ll get on the next train and either find each other on the train or at the station where we change lines. 

Out the corner of my eye, I glimpse a coat that seems familiar but my brain registers that it’s not who I’m looking for so I don’t pay closer attention. As I look up and down the carriage for my friends, I hear an incredulous voice say, “I don’t believe it!” and I look up to find myself looking at the man Catfish found herself inadvertently nestling against on the overcrowded train on Christmas Eve.  He then asks me where my friend is and I quickly text Catfish who thinks I’m making a joke about the subway being too busy.  Little does she know that I’m actually standing next to Mr Pillow man which is precisely what I clarify when we finally find each other at the station where we change lines.

From there, it’s a smooth trip to Itaewon where we stash our belongings in a locker at Itaewon station (a very convenient and cost-effective overnight storage option!) before heading to What the Book? to meet the Kiwis and co. Along the way, we encounter high school students who need to interview English speakers as part of a winter camp project so we happily volunteer our services. After a quick look around What the Book? where we purchase two incredibly funny Korean books that read like bad romance novels (Making Out in Korean and Dirty Korean), KiwiKat shows me the ‘Plus Size’ store in Itaewon where she buys all of her clothes and introduces me to the woman who runs the store.  When I hear that the store will be open the next day, I tell her that I’ll be back then since we’re going straight to the party and we’re once again on our way so that Freddy can have a haircut, I can look for new gloves, and we can all do general errands that are just so much easier in Itaewon. 

Countdown Seoul

With our errands complete, we head to Yeongdeungpo where the concert is being held in Seoul’s Times Square (Kyungbang) which is basically a large shopping centre.  We discover that we need our reference numbers (which were emailed at time of booking) in order to collect the tickets.  KiwiKat has the reference numbers for the three tickets that she booked but Catfish hasn’t written down the numbers for our tickets.  The solution: We head to Starbucks where people are working on personal laptops and she approaches a Korean man and asks if she may borrow his computer for a few minutes to write down the reference numbers.  Fortunately, he agrees and we’re soon heading back to the ticket counter where we discover that we will not be able to collect our tickets for another hour.  Not to be deterred by this, we decide that a proper dinner is in order and head back towards the subway and on to TGI Friday’s for some western food. Unfortunately, too many people seem to have decided on this and we’re not able to wait an hour for a table which is how we ended up eating KFC for dinner on the last night of the year…

Our hunger semi-sated, we stop by a local bookstore to look for cardboard and markers to make Free Hugs and Kisses signs.  We leave with no cardboard but a new confusion about the "Elglish" language section as we once again head back to Times Square to collect our tickets.  Catfish and KiwiKat get into the queue while the rest of us fool around and tell them to hurry up since we’re cold.  I surreptitiously attempt to take a photo of a cute Korean guy standing in the queue (much to the amusement of my friends) but, after several failed attempts, I give up. Tickets in hand, we head inside and find a spot to take over while we orientate ourselves with the layout of the venue and the schedule then we get ready to party Korean style…

…or maybe not!  We head upstairs to the club room since the performances downstairs will only start at 22:00.  Upstairs, we’re treated to the sight of a handful of people standing in the centre of the dance floor bopping only their heads to the music, and most people sitting on the chairs along the wall.  If this is Korean style partying, we’re bound to be disappointed.  We commandeer a table in the centre of the room and proceed to pile all of our jackets and bags on top before getting our first drinks.  It doesn’t take long for Catfish to meet a cute guy…much to the disgust of his girlfriend who seems to be watching Catfish very carefully.  Each time we encounter Alex and his girlfriend that evening, she is quick to move him along and discourages any conversation.

Will You Kiss a Fish?

 

The DJs who start off the evening’s entertainment aren’t too bad even though one resembles an elf in his beanie and looks like he’s not even legally old enough to drink never mind be the entertainment in a bar.  We seem to be the only foreigners in this section but that doesn’t discourage us from having a good time and soon, more people have joined us on the dance floor.  By 22:00, almost everyone has arrived and we move down to the first floor where the main groups are going to be performing.  Catfish and I end up somewhere in the middle of the crowd where before we know it we are preparing to count in the new year.  Catfish has been chatting randomly to some Korean girls next to us and so, with the knowledge that the new year is only minutes away, she turns to them and asks if there are any single men.  The entire group start laughing and pointing to one guy who is blushing furiously and slowly starts backing away and we’re soon counting down the last 10 seconds (in a combination of English and Korean) to midnight.

In America, Catfish tells us that the New Year’s tradition is to find someone – anyone it would seem – with whom to make out.  This is precisely what she’d been hoping to do but, unfortunately, ended up with only me with whom to welcome in 2011 while balloons and paper confetti fell from the ceiling.  When she tells KiwiKat this tradition, KiwiKat leads the way determined to find someone for Maggie to kiss.  They find random Korean guys and ask if they’ll do the honours: two of them happily agree and the second guy even agrees to having the kiss photographed when his friend enthusiastically takes out a camera prompting KiwiKat to follow with her camera – and issue instructions ensuring the moment is captured perfectly even if it requires more than one take.

By now, the excitement of the new year has worn off and I’ve realised that I’m simply too old to still be attempting an all-night party – plus the current DJ is truly awful making it even more difficult to stay awake! The only act that I still want to see is 2PM. A K-pop band that is fairly popular with older teens and young adults, 2PM is not really one of my favourite groups but I ‘m hoping that having seen them perform live might just improve my street cred with my students.  Staying awake until they perform, however, is a far greater challenge than I’d anticipated and one that I ultimately lost as I wake just in time in the corner in which I’ve curled up to sleep. 

2PM @ 2AM

There is a significant irony in the scheduled performance time for 2PM although it’s a stroke of genius from a marketing and management point of view.  2PM is half of the group that split up in order to form two new bands: 2PM and 2PM; together, they form A Day (I don’t actually know if that was the original group’s name but it makes sense!). 2AM is apparently slightly more popular but 2PM was actually pretty good.  It’s ironic, however, that 2PM performed at 2:00am for 20 minutes but a stroke of genius in that it was the one truly big name performances and after the subways had closed for the night which ensured people would stay at the countdown until 5:30am when the subways re-opened.

Of course, I don’t understand most of the lyrics in K-pop and I couldn’t see very much of 2PM considering I was standing near a human mountain but overall, their performance was good and their dancing energetic.  It was interesting to see that their dance routines are exactly the same as those of their music videos.  In addition, they would stop between each song and chat onstage which meant that they only sang a couple of songs. Catfish and KiwiKat were lucky enough to be standing very close to the stage where they could get fantastic photos and even decent videos of the performance.

With 2PM’s performance over, we all felt age taking it’s toll and decided to catch some shut-eye until 5:30am when we could finally leave in the bitter cold.  Dozing in and out of sleep, I was aware of various people standing near our group and can’t help but wonder how many embarrassing photos random Koreans probably took of us sleeping on one of the biggest party nights of the year….

How Did You Do That? (28 December)

As much as I would like to sleep in this morning after a really busy Christmas trip and getting home late last night, I have made a doctor’s appointment.  You’re probably thinking Another doctor’s appointment but this one is just a routine visit to have a blood test done and get a new prescription for my thyroid medication.  It literally takes 20 minutes although correcting the appointment takes a lot longer since the new International Coordinator at the Gunsan Medical Centre mistakenly makes the appointment with a different doctor. 

The Kindest Doctor Ever...

I then speak to her about the tingling and numbness that I’ve had in my left arm for the last two weeks.   It’s really starting to worry me and I think that I should see a doctor to have it checked out but I’m not sure which specialist I’ll be sent to since Family Doctors (or GPs as we call them back home) seem scarcer than hen’s teeth.  The coordinator suggests trying acupuncture about which I’m a little hesitant.  It’s not that I’m scared of needles – I’m just not a fan of them.

I find myself agree to try this and ask her where I should go.  She happily tells me that there is an oriental medicine department in the hospital and shuffles me off in the direction of this department.  Any doubts that are sprinting through my head as I sit outside the doctor’s office are squelched an hour later after this particular doctor has done a full examination.  Not only does he speak directly to me (even though he’s speaking Korean), but he takes the time to listen to the problem, ask questions, do a physical examination and a couple of on-the-spot tests which is very unusual compared to all of the Korean doctors I’ve seen so far.  By the time we get to the needle part, I actually feel quite calm as a result of his impressive bedside manner. 

Just a Short Walk

Several hours later than I’d planned, I finally leave the Medical Centre and head home to get ready for a friend’s visit.  I do a very quick clean of my apartment and then head to phone store to try and get a new cellular phone since my one appears to have died completely.  At the store, I’m told that my phone can be repaired but not in-store.  I’m given verbal directions that simply amount to around the corner and approximately 1km down the main road so I head off rather confidently in this general direction.  I walk and walk and walk until I see the tunnel that is officially the end of my neighbourhood. I’m pretty sure that I’ve already walked more than 1km so I enter the very next SK store that I pass and ask for help.  The women draws me a map since I clearly don’t know the name of the major intersection that I need to cross and then writes down the name of the repair centre.  When I finally reach the centre, I realise that I’ve walked halfway to Lotte mart – definitely further than 1km down the road.  However, the news that my phone simply needs a new cable and will take 10 minutes to fix and only cost 18 000 won is fantastic!

As I leave the service centre 15 minutes later, I’m so absorbed in reading the text messages that have accumulated over the last 24 hours that I’m not really paying attention to the fact that a snow storm has suddenly started while I was indoors.  Walking down marble stairs with fresh snow and a distracted step is guaranteed to result in an unexpected tumble down the stairs which is exactly what happens.  As I stand up once more, I realise that I’m directly opposite the Samsung Digital Centre so I make my way across the street to try and find a power cable for my laptop.  Unfortunately, it’s the wrong size!  Determined to figure out just how far I’ve actually walked this afternoon – and since I don’t know what to tell a taxi driver in order to get back to the phone store where I need to recharge my airtime – I decide to walk back to Soryong-dong.  Now that I know where I’m going, I realise the walk is probably only about two and a half kilometres although it’s an extremely cold two and a half kilometres tonight!

Miscommunications

Back home, I half-heartedly sort out a few more things in my apartment before I have to leave for the bus station to meet my friend.  It’s only then that I realise that I have no flight details for him and no idea what time the bus arrives.  All I can do is estimate an arrival time which means I’ll probably be sitting at the bus station for a while tonight.  I pack a book and head back out into the cold to, hopefully, meet my friend.  Forty minutes later, with no way of contacting him (I’ve even tried his Japanese phone number to no avail), I start phoning and texting everyone I can think of to get ideas on what to do. 

As I’m walking back and forth between the intercity and the express bus terminals, my phone rings: My friend is standing outside of what he thinks is my apartment!  As he describes the door, however, my relief returns to anxiety as I suddenly wonder which apartment building he’s standing in since the description doesn’t match mine.  Reassured by the fact that he can see Wolmyeong Park behind him, I can only conclude that he’s at the right complex but in the wrong building as I hurriedly grab a taxi and head home to meet him.  How he managed to successfully get from the bus station to my apartment via taxi which my address written in English is beyond me – there are days when I can’t even get back to my apartment and I provide the address in Korean!