Hairmusement.

Poor Jake. (picking nose, center) It's not his fault. 6-year-old boys generally beg their mothers for toys, games, maybe shoes, but not perms. He's a cute kid. For some reason the mother's in Korea don't have enough hobbies...so they take up hairstyling. Not their own, but of their offspring. And so Jake was dragged into his mother's whims. I walked into the classroom to be greeted with my new lionesque student (it has tamed down a couple inches in the past 24 hours) and gasped. I then proceeded to giggle and pet, poor Jake.

Genetically Koreans have black, straight hair but suspiciously enough blonde streaks and brown curly locks have seeped into the gene pool. Next victim, Rio (pronounced Lio for you the Koreans). He's got roots that would put any trailer park to shame. And then there's Harry, who doesn't know that chicks don't dig highlights...

Oh Korea, you never cease to amuse me.

celebritydom.

These next statements are out of no vanity, just fact. As foreigners living here in Korea we live with an air of celebrity. I know, I know being a busty, blonde doesn't help my plight a bit. In this collectivist culture, anything different is blatant and obvious. In American culture, I'm curvy and average looking. In Korea that translates to fat and supermodel. Anything with round eyes and a decent-sized nose bridge is beautiful. I quickly learned the basic combative phrases including...Wey buseyo? (why are you looking?) and Chada bucheemah (literally: take your eyes off me) but in most cases whenever I've actually used them, I've been promptly laughed at.

Wherever I go, I'm constantly stared at. In the beginning it was invasive and irritating, by this point I've just trained myself to ignore it indifferently. From the point I walk out of my apartment: there's the neighbors, the construction workers and every proceeding young, old, male and female person google-eyed until I return to my non-invasive four walls countless hours later. The pointing children on the bus yelling "WEYGOOK SARAM" (or FOREIGNER in my language), was my first tip that I'm out of place. In our Western society we grew up being taught not to stare...getting wrists slapped for staring at the homeless or disabled. In Korea, such is not the case...it's more of a social necessary than a hobby.The area I live in is particularly devoid of us aliens, and I catch myself staring likewise when we actually see some. More metropolitan places like Seoul have adjusted to the foreign taste, and we enjoy the lack of attention there. I know it's not just me, but my light and dark-skinned friends, fat and thin, loud and quiet...are all in the same fishbowl.

Now there's those of my friends who don't mind the attention, some even thrive in it (JOE). We were on the Great Wall in China, the last remaining of the 7 Ancient Wonders of the World...and parents were having us to pose with their children. Oh, the irony. I will admit to the occassional benefits of biased treatment in forms of cake, beer, and fried eggs (sweet grandma but yuck), which I'm always supportive of. And to those bus drivers who picked me up without a bus stop in sight...I love you. I feel come my 45th birthday when I'm a bit more squishy, saggy and wrinkly, I'll long for the Korean days when I could turn the attention of an entire room. But until then, hoods up, sunglasses on, and STOP LOOKING! I have a newfound empathy for all the Angelina Jolie's of the world sans the 10 million dollars.