I'm not in the habit of carrying an umbrella...that's true of most people from Seattle, right? Anyway, this habit does NOT jive with my host mom's view of the world, which involves carrying an umbrella when either a) there is even a single cloud in the sky, in order to protect oneself from the imminent threat of rain or b) there are no clouds in the sky whatsoever, in order to protect oneself from direct exposure to the sun's deadly rays. In other words, basically all of the time. I found this t-shirt (designed by a foreigner living in Korea) very apt:

Speaking of the strange timing of various personal accessories, have I ever mentioned SHOES? Omigod, where to begin? First of all, especially among students, shoes are basically the most important thing you will ever buy. As one student (known to some as Harry Potter?) explained to me, since all Korean middle and high schoolers have to wear uniforms, basically the entire responsibility of conveying individual personality is passed on to the shoes. (In my case, I don't think this would have worked out so well...I believe I spent most of high school in successive pairs of identical black Vans sneakers followed by black Converse high-tops, despite never once stepping onto a skateboard OR a basketball court.) I went shoe shopping this weekend with a few students and the gravity with which the decision between dark olive and light brown Keds was made was fairly intense. (OK, shoes and glasses, which is why so many of my students wear huge purple or brilliant yellow frames, as often as not without any lenses to speak of.) So that is all fine and good, as long as the shoes are actually on feet, which they're usually not. People are really only supposed to wear these carefully chosen shoes when they're recreating or on route from one place to another. (Not necessarily different shoes for the two activities. Lots of Korean people have, for instance, elaborate hiking outfits involving very sturdy boots, but I've seen plenty of women climbing mountainsides in their heels, a practice that to me is, in a word, insane.) As soon as you walk into a house, or school, or a restaurant, etc. you take off your shoes and, at least at home and school, replace them with, uh, shower shoes. And not just the students: this is everyone. How disorienting to be having a showdown with your principal and accidentally glance down to note that below his natty suit he's sporting pink socks and a pair of plastic slippers. This seems like a good system to me, actually (though hardly necessary given the daily vacuuming that takes place), with one problem. Once the regular shoes are off, people seem really reluctant to put them back on, so you'll have teachers leaving school to go get lunch or ducking out to the post office or students frolicking on the track without bothering to change out of their "inside" shoes. Perhaps the aim is not so much to keep the floor clean as it is to extend the lifespan of those dark olive Keds...

Today I graduated from my three-week language course at Ewha University. I think the most valuable thing I learned during my time there is this: the word for overcoat is 바바리 코트, or ba-ba-li ko-tuh...say it three times fast. Do you hear it? Babali kote. Barbarli kote. Burberry coat.