From the horse crap, comes the flower.

Living in Seoul is a challenge. There are a myriad of functions our apartment has that is completely out of left field to me. I can answer the door from the bathroom using a control panel over my toilet paper; my toilet has two different kinds flushes; and my new best friend is a massaging bidet. The down side is, all of the control panels are in Korean, so who knows how to use any of it? Certainly not I. (On a side note: This weekend, my son, Matthew, pressed a button on the control panel in the bathroom, which set off the loudest alarm humanly possible. I'm not fluent in Korean, but I'm pretty sure the Korean who was screaming in between the loud sirens was warning us that we're being invaded, and North Korea was at our door. As it turns out, it is an emergency button. A pretty crappy one, I’ll say, considering no one came to help us. I had to call the realtor to ask her if our apartment was about to explode.) Anyway, I figured out how to use the bidet because of the pictures accompanying the corresponding buttons. (Really.) There’s “central vacuuming” in our wall, but no central air conditioning. There’s no dishwasher. Well, I take that back. I’M the dishwasher. The sink has a spinning basket that accumulates left over food so you can dry it before you put it in the trash, as opposed to a garbage disposal. Our microwave is also an oven. Or maybe our oven is also a microwave. The only thing that fits in it is a small meat loaf. The vestibule has nothing but closet space… for shoes. Not a single place to hang up your coat. We have to use transformers for our fridge, washer, dryer, my blow dryer, toaster, and an assortment of other things. The heat comes from the floor; we have marble walls, so we can’t put a nail in the wall to hang up a picture; and, oh, no one speaks English.

When we venture out into town, basic things like ordering food or telling a cab where to go are complicated, at best. Those are the little things we took advantage of in the states. You don’t have a true appreciation for living in a country where everyone speaks the same language as you until you’re not. Oh, and the television. Did I mention the television? I miss American television. We watched a lot of Korea’s Got Talent and Korean infomercials before we got Netflix and Hulu. Those are the two shows we didn’t need to speak Korean to understand, but that greatly limits what we can watch. Reality shows, Dr. Phil, Army Wives, I miss it all. I’m not ashamed to admit I love television. When my husband first told me we were being stationed in Korea, one of my first thoughts was, “How am I going to watch TV?” My friend, Kristine B., actually contacted a friend of hers who is here to ask her for me. I was THAT concerned about it. Hey, some people play video games; some people do crossword puzzles; some people read; I watch TV. I’m a passive learner. I used to like keeping the Discovery Channel on in the background in the hopes of absorbing some knowledge via osmosis.

With all that being said, I love living in Korea.

I love my toilet and its control panel. The toilet seat heats up. Heating from the floor means your feet are never cold, and if your back hurts, you can just lay down on the hot floor. Our air conditioning is remote controlled, so I don’t have to get up. Well, I do to find the remote, but once I find it, I’m set. Hardwood floors are easy to clean. I love the clothes drying rack that comes down from the ceiling. The oven/microwave means one less thing on the counter. The fact that I can see who’s at my door without getting off my couch is gold. Central vacuuming is awesome and way better than sweeping. I’d have to sweep all day, every day to keep this floor clean.

I love how friendly the Korean people are. I love that my husband and I can go out to eat, and after we brutally botch up their language and order food, our two-year-old can (more like “will”) go sit down and eat with other people or run around the restaurant and some random, kind Koreans will play with him and watch him for us, because they love children that much. I love the sense of community. My husband and I went out to eat Galbi yesterday. Galbi is a beef short rib dish that is slap-yo-mama good. Someone in the table next to us saw us struggling, and they called up a friend of theirs who spoke English, put my husband on the phone, figured out what we wanted, and spoke to the waiter for us. As it turns out, they didn’t make the Galbi we wanted. They made the “gruel” version, which is a soup called Galbitab.

No matter where the Army sends you, there is always going to be nervousness and reservation. New things are scary. They are supposed to be, I guess. We are creatures of habit, and the Army likes to shakes things up. If you go with a bad attitude, it’ll effect not only your time at your duty station, but your family’s as well. I mean, you know how it goes… If mama ain’t happy, no one is happy. Take your experiences for what they are – experiences. If it weren’t for the Army, I wouldn’t be here. I never even left the country before moving here. Korea wasn’t in my top 10 places to visit. I don’t even think it was in my top 100, but I am glad I am here. My husband isn’t deployed. My family is together. My son can experience a new culture and way of life. I learned more things about myself from living here than I expected to. Like, for future reference I now know that my son can cry and scream at the top of his lungs for three hours straight on a flight, and I won’t rip my hair out and arrive bald or leave him at the lost and found. I now know this about myself for a fact.

Cheer up. It could be worse. Bloom where you are planted. From the horse crap, comes the flower, right?