Chicken Soup for the Expatriate Soul

Things are fairly quiet over here. I'm getting to know the town, which seems to be of uniform density. Lots of fish for sale, though no giant felines in sight, unless you count Hello Kitty dolls. In fact, several of the students keep inventing things with Hello Kitty themes, such as a Hello Kitty sandcastle mold. David has declared he would marry Hello Kitty if he could.

I'm also getting lots of practice speaking in public (a presentation a day keeps the jitters away) though the public in this case comprises 17 Korean children ages 12-15 and one camp coordinator, Kent, who nods a great deal and occasionally draws inappropriate things on the board.

I arranged to have French fries delivered in the middle of my talk on the history of McDonald's last night: edible multimedia. Every evening is turning into a kind of storytelling hour. Tuesday I did FDR; tonight is the rise and demise of the American department store, and tomorrow, maybe Ronald Reagan and the 1980s.

But--speaking of McDonald's--a quick thought on Korean food. Yesterday, Kyle knocked on my door to wake me up from a morning nap. (Eh, my mornings aren't very hardcore.) He explained that there was a very special meal in the cafeteria that he didn't want me to miss. It turned out to be chicken soup. Only in a country where nearly all the food is pickled and/or spicy would boiled chicken in plain broth be considered remarkable.

Okay, time to hike back from town to campus to prepare for tonight (and for the afternoon invention workshop--hopefully featuring no more Hello Kittiness.) It's a very pleasant n degrees below zero out there. I love my earmuffs.