Koreans have a totally different relationship to mirrors than Americans. An American might spend hours examining himself in front of the mirror, but to unless he’s one of those vain celebrities in the movies who’s lost all sense of proportion, he would probably be horrified if anyone caught him doing it. Equally irritating to Americans (all right, I have no idea about all of America: irritating to ME) is watching other people trying to secretly check themselves out in a mirror without being caught (Jy, I’m looking at you). Of course, if you are called out on staring at your reflection it’s totally embarrassing, right? Not so in Korea. Gumi HS is outfitted with at least three full-length mirrors, and I would not say that they are overstocked. The first is strategically placed in the front atrium at the base of the main staircase, convenient for a quick check as you first walk in the door and, more dramatically, a gradually revealed action view as you descend the stairs (God forbid it should catch you unawares…I always wonder who that ridiculously frizzy-haired girl walking toward me is). I always try to pretend that I don’t notice myself, but for the teachers and students at my school it’s a different story. One glimpse of a mirror and they go into total model mode, sometimes with a critical glare, other times with a sort of smug satisfaction. Of course, all my students wear the same thing, so most of their attention is focused on the face and hair. It’s not uncommon for me to come upon five or six of them clustered in front of the mirror, carefully combing their bangs across their foreheads of smoothing down the pointy, Spock-like tufts of hair in front of their ears. The combs and mirrors often also make an appearance in class. My favorite is the huge, pink comb that the class 8 captain, who’s a pretty studious guy, uses to pull back his hair before securing it in place with a sequined bobby pin. Actually, the hot weather means that the fans have been turned on, which offers even greater opportunities for in-class hair adjustments. This week I watched one kid engage in what might be called cyclical grooming. Holding a small, blue (and therefore masculine) Hello Kitty hand mirror inches from his face, he would carefully arrange and smooth his admittedly complicated-looking hairstyle. (My students have length restrictions, but there are no rules about volume…). Of course, the moment he had it all ordered to his satisfaction, the overhead fan would make a pass and whirl the whole thing into chaos, at which point he would once again go to work fixing it up. How much studying can this kid get done?

Actually, lately I feel as though I speak with almost no authority from the American perspective…my views have been too warped by being away for a year. An example: when I first arrived in Gumi, the English teachers took me out for sam gyeop sal, otherwise known, horrifyingly, as three-layers-of-fat-pork. Here’s the thing, though: I no longer find it horrifying. I used to either peel off the fat or try to burn it off on the grill, but last night the workshop teachers and I went out and I actually found myself ENJOYING the fat. Thinking things like, “Mm, this bite of nothing but three kinds of fat and a token sliver of actual pork is delicious!” (For you health-freaks out there, worry not. Fresa tells me that pigs’ belly fat is actually the same as collagen; it won’t make you gain weight, but it will give you plump lips and smooth skin. Hm. I don’t know if I fully trust her authority when it comes to food. In the same conversation she also told me that iced green tea is necessary in the summer to “sanitize” the insides of our bodies.)

Actually, right now I’m feeling sort of desperately sad. I’m on a train from Gumi to Seoul. I’ll spend the weekend in Seoul, and then six days in Beijing, and when I get back to Gumi my host family (minus the kind but mute Dr. Lee) will be gone. Marina and Yong Ju finish school in the next week, and then they have to go to Seoul to summer academy, and Fresa’ll go with them. Hm…so last night was really my last night with my host family. Uhhhhhhh.

ANYWAY, one of my favorite train rituals just happened. That is, the conductor walked through, stared at the tops of sleeping people’s heads and checked no one’s ticket. When he got to the end of the car he did a smart little pivot, surveyed, once again, everyone sleeping, then bowed deeply and left. The bow! Other great bowers are 3-minute infomercial hosts, who bow at the end of their spiels with the same enthusiasm and efficiency with which they just tried to sell you an air conditioner that uses only ice and fans, and news announcers, who always look incredibly awkward when they bow at the end of a broadcast because, of course, they’re sitting behind a giant desk.