varying degrees of light

Our office has a coffee pot. It is surprisingly comforting and exciting to have hot coffee again. For a little more than a week, we've subsisted on instant, iced (canned), and tea. Oh, I forgot. There are so many things to tell you. The church that Elijah and Ashley have been attending, the church that I've been twice and Adam once, is enormous, and has a cafe on the top floor with moderately priced delicious espresso drinks and I've been frequenting an Americano and Cappuccino while we wait for the English service to start. The cafe is pretty busy, and Ashley usually meets with her Korean teacher to go over their weekly lesson and I've enjoyed reading, and watching the bustling around with Adam.

What else.

Our office is huge, and my trusty assistant Wilson found us a couch on the internet for 20,000w or a rough equivalent of $20. He says that it will be delivered tomorrow (Wed.) before noon. We (Adam and I) are learning more of this teaching thing each day--I firmly believe we're at an advantage, that we are so close to the age of our students, that he is a tall, skinny, and white guy and I'm basically a Korean guy that speaks English. Because of these things, these novelties, our students are interested in us and our English phrases. We use this to our favor in and out of the classroom. Out of the classroom: walking down the street, Elijah, Ashley, Adam and myself (whitey, whitey, whitey, and me) and seeing people turn and comment on their height allows me to slip under the radar for the most part; I've had an intent to be mistaken for a local for most of my travels and it shouldn't be a surprise that this is easiest to do in Korea.

What else.

I'm learning Korean, or I mistakingly like to believe that I'm re-learning it. I remember it was my first language, along with the first fleeting images I remember of my life in Grand Rapids before school, which means, before I learned English. I would explore Seminary Housing (my brothers can attest to more detailed stories) and have adventures and run crying home to mom, screaming in Korean, and I feel envy towards that child--his Korean is very good, and here I am--22-years old with a college degree and I feel less than that kid before he started pre-school. Don't get me wrong--I'm happy to ask directions and questions of people, (Do you know where Home Plus is? How much is the camera? Do you sell film? How much is the fish stick? What kind of meat is this, that my friend just bought from you? What do you recommend for four people?) but you'll see me quietly muttering to myself afterwards, repeating their answers, trying my question in different ways, trying to instill that understanding in my brain again. Currently, I'm chatting with my mom and practicing Korean, which is even more of a process when you are learning to type on a new alphabet. She laughs, but says she is proud, and quietly corrects my spelling mistakes. She's a great teacher, and has always been--telling me that I'm probably basing my spelling on oral understanding rather than from how it's written... and seeing as I read phonetically, based on sound, that totally makes sense and I must get a hold of some books. (Note to self: Get assistant to find some easy Korean books.)

Oh, and yes--I am in Busan, South Korea. I landed safely. I'm teaching English (six classes) at Kosin University. It is hot here.