It's Complicated

Last year, I made a post on our wedding anniversary about how happy I was to have been married to Joe for five years. Someone, I don't remember who, pointed out to me that we hadn't been married for five years...it had only been four. I subtracted 2007 from 2011, and, uh-oh, they were right! I hurried up and changed all the mentions of "five years" before anyone else could notice my error.

Well, this year, it really has been five years (as of last Friday.)

I'm learning that it's complicated. I knew almost from the beginning that perfection wasn't possible, but I never believed it when people told us we'd struggle, that things wouldn't always go the way we wanted them to. Maybe everyone else would eventually run into problems, but we were just too happy together.

Then came reality, and I'm learning that it's complicated, the balancing of two people's needs and wants, flaws and failures. It's complicated, the bond that grows slow and steady and strong, twisting through the hard parts. The commitment to getting it right, even though the work is so difficult and painful...getting it right, finally, someday. Together.

and here we are in an ancient Korean graveyard

Happy anniversary, Joe. I've spent almost a fifth of my life with you, now, and I hope I get to spend like a total of 75% of my life with you. Or more.

I still think you're the greatest.

What's Different About Korea

I've now been in South Korea for one year (and one week.) I want to be like, "Oh wow guys this is so different," but living here feels so normal now.

Once in a while, though, I'll see an advertisement for a common product which I'd forgotten existed. Our Commissary is the size of a large 7-11 and has a relatively small selection of goods, so a lot of products just slip from my memory. Or I'll look at the pictures I took of our storage unit, where almost everything we own is stored right now, and see stuff I'd forgotten we had. I think there are a lot of things like that: Forgotten products, forgotten belongings, forgotten what it's like in the States.

Like, when I think about it, I'll remember that I own a KitchenAid mixer. And a round cookie sheet for pizza. And we have a fan for our bedroom with a remote control. And we have way too many little junky things that will probably be getting thrown away when I rediscover them. In a plastic container, we have two pounds of quinoa. We have a red cooler and our own refrigerator. We have a whole bunch of lamps. We don't have desks anymore because they didn't survive the move into the storage unit. I have houseplants waiting at my grandparents' house, and a dog at Joe's parents' house, and my birds at someone else's house. We have plastic mats for our computer chairs to roll around on. We have...a car. With a CD player in it, and a SUNROOF, and a huge trunk. In the car are my CDs, hopefully not melted.

I think the biggest difference with our life in Korea is travel. Without a car, going anywhere new requires extra planning and other people's timetables. Also, when you don't have a little pod of climate control on wheels, almost every form of weather just feels oppressive, smushing against your apartment door, keeping you from going anywhere. And you definitely can't wear painful shoes whenever you feel like it.
 
Without a vehicle, multi-errand trips have to be strategically planned. Whatever you buy, you have to carry around, since you can't just dump it in the trunk. One bright and sunny 90-degree day last week, the plan was: Go to the bank first, it's nearest; then go next door to check the mail; then walk across the big gravel lot past the Commissary and go to the library to check some stuff out; backtrack, go to the Commissary and buy only what will fit in half of my backpack; carry groceries and books allllll the way over to the military clothing store near the pool; then, carrying groceries and books and a couple of new uniforms, walk alllllllllllllll the way over to the ACS building, the farthest walkable point from home; then, backtrack allllll the way back to the library and PX area, buy a microwave; then, thank goodness I've collected enough stuff to justify taking a taxi home. I was proud of myself for saving at least $12 in taxi money. I really needed a shower.

See how much I've gotten used to it here? I'm in a different culture, and all I talk about when I think of what's different about living in Korea is not having a car. It's not the rice fields or the mountains (I don't even see them anymore) or the Buddhist temples or beautiful Seoul, but having a remote-controlled bedroom fan. I'm pretty sure I need to do some more exploring.