Approximately 11 pm Chicago time
I am currently sitting in the Chicago International Airport, on a five hour—well, currently four hours—flight transfer.
The flight from Indy to Chicago went fast—it’s only like 38 minutes in the air. It’s almost silly. Up and down. I will let you know that having these noise-canceling headphones have been a blessing! You can sort of hear direct sounds—like if someone is trying to get your attention. But any background noise is completely cancelled. You can’t hear the drumming of the airplane engine, the baseball game on the TV directly above my head, or the slightly annoying directions of a flight attendant.
Good news: my first official contact with Koreans has been a positive one. (Yes, I have had friendships with people from South Korea, but these people live in Korea and were just vacationing in Cleveland, OH—of all places). Anyway, we were waiting in the line, waiting to check in for the airline, and the young mom and her son in front of me start talking to me. Asked where I was going, where I was traveling to, what I was doing, etc. The boy was sweet—his mom translated for him, said that he wanted me to teach his school English.
I’ve read a couple culture guides about living in South Korea and they talk about how there is a clear distinction between strangers and acquaintances—and that strangers may be treated as a quote’n’quote “non-person.” You may have your appearance, hair, clothes, etc talked about right in front of you. They don’t mean to be critical, judgmental, or harsh, just it’s an assumption that because you are not Korean, you don’t speak the language, and you are a stranger so there is no need to be overly excessively polite (like talking behind your back as opposed to talking right in front of you in a foreign language).
I think I got a small taste of this with the young mom and her boy. You can definitely tell they are talking about you. The mom was better with not pointing, but the boy kept nodding his head at me. He was in 4th grade, btw. But, as I am in alignment with the general consensus that Americans, I don’t speak Korean so I couldn’t understand a lick of what they were saying. I just kept telling myself, “Well, get used to it!” I read a blog once of an English teacher in South Korea saying she can understand maybe—on a good day—about 10% of what is going on around her. Yippie, skippy!
On my iPod—Natasha Beddingfield’s “Unwritten” just came on. I know it’s pretty corny, but right now, it feels like an anthem for my life right now.
“I am unwritten
Can’t read my mind
I’m undefined
I’m just beginning
The pens’ in my hand
Ending unplanned
I break tradition
Sometimes my tries are outside the line
We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes
But I can’t live that way
Staring at the blank page in front of you
Open up the dirty window,
Let the sun illuminate you're the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin’
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, No one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Treat yourself with words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins.
The rest is still unwritten
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