Tag Archives: life

Revisiting MacRae Cemetery

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C and I have been going on a lot of walks lately. She gets into this strange baby hypnosis mode when we’re out exploring and sometimes for fun I wave my palm in front of her face to determine how zonked she is. She swats it away and is like, “LADY, I was in a reverie. Way to go breaking it.” Down the road and to the left of our apartment building is a small development of homes – one of those neighborhoods that looks like it was probably put together on a long weekend. Vinyl siding, no trees over six feet tall, houses that are basically the same but all have an arched second story window to hint at architectural originality. There are sidewalks over most of the development and there isn’t a lot of traffic, so that’s where we go.

A couple weeks ago as we were walking, we turned down an unexplored street and I saw a large, black, wrought-iron arch in the distance. As we neared it, I realized that it was the entrance to a small family cemetery. It was strange to see such an ancient, solemn space interjected among starter homes where I would not want to spend a lifetime.

Macrae Cemetary

View from inside

I parked C’s stroller and looked around. All the tombstones were quite old; the most recent marker was from a death in 1988 but it was definitely an outlier, as most of the stones were from deaths that occurred from the 1840s to the 1920s. Most were broken and toppled and the largest one – presumably the one for which the family cemetery was named – even had graffiti on it.

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The wind started gusting since it was a cemetery and that’s what it’s supposed to do, and C got fussy just sitting there while I sated my morbid fascination, so we turned back for home a few minutes later.

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Back home, I googled the cemetery and the only thing I could find was an old (by Internet standards) description of the place from 2001 that described the cemetery and its location. At that time, the subdivision was still just a glimmer in its big box developer’s eye so only a dirt road could lead you to it. And the writer of the description advised a four-wheel drive vehicle to get you to it should you want to visit it yourself. What struck me most was that it was described as “abandoned” even back in 2001. The description was wistful: “This cemetery is in bad condition with many broken headstones. I had to piece some of them together just to read them.”

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Thus ends the portion of the post I wrote a month ago and then abandoned, just like MacRae Cemetery. I have been mulling this place over in my head for weeks trying to pinpoint the exact thing about it that intrigues me. I want to find a message in this tiny forgotten cemetery down the road from me. I could talk about Death, but the hugeness of that topic overwhelms me. I could talk about the fact that C will never know either of her grandfathers, but that’s just too sad and fresh for me to visit. I’ll talk about that eventually, but I want those stories to be prompted by something less arbitrary than a random cemetery. I also played around with the idea of talking about the juxtaposition of something so old and precious with something so new and hasty. But mostly I just wanted to use the word “juxtaposition”. Juxtaposition, juxtaposition, juxtaposition. Now. You know that I know the word. So moving on.

Over the course of the month that I took a break from MacRae Cemetery, I did other things and countless other ideas blipped across my radar. MacRae got pushed aside but it persisted. What was I supposed to do with this old forgotten place? It was unfinished business that started nagging me to wrap up. I have this stubborn urge to neatly file away all my experiences in tidy white boxes that fit in the walk-in closet between my ears. I want to access them easily, and put them exactly where they belong, so it was driving me nuts that MacRae was basically tossed in a big pile labeled “pending” on my dinner table. Now that I’m facing it again, it is becoming more clear that the gloom and the one-acre can of worms I’ve opened is insisting that images and ideas persist across time. They have a life of their own (oh, and the irony that I just used the word “life” is not lost on me). Despite the fact that these tombs are old and forgotten, they still have meaning. Years after the funeral attendants of 1842 have died themselves, I am still grappling with the mourning and sorrow they felt over 150 years ago.

Just because things fade from memory and are replaced with houses teeming with more relevant activity and life doesn’t mean that they were all for naught. The gravestones are broken, but that adds to their story. Those lives that were lived and mourned over a hundred years ago are not stuck in the past like a mosquito in amber. They make up the experience of mine and my child’s life. They are the details that give our walks patina.

I’m not freaking out this time.

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When I started writing here, I called this space The Waiting because I was waiting on C to be born and also because Tom Petty is awesome and I wish I were related to him.* But then she was born and I realized that waiting is kind of a big thing in my life, as it probably is for everyone.

*One time I was listening to Terry Gross and she was interviewing him about his early life in Florida. He apparently lived in a university town so she asked him if and how that influenced him, to which he replied, “Um, we weren’t affiliated with the college. At all.” And that is why I love him.

Waiting is mashed in with my minor obsession with time. For pretty much my whole life, I have felt like I was entitled to the accomplishments that a certain age would bring me. If I only waited so long, I would get married. I would get to live in a house that I own. I would achieve a certain level of success in whatever professional field I entered. I would get to be a parent. If I didn’t hit those marks, I was supposed to worry them into occurring. That was my default response. I am an expert worrier in that I tackle it with the professionalism that I lack in all other aspects of my life. Worrying will bring into existence all that I lack, or so I thought.

So I hit the getting married thing pretty earlier when I married B when I was 24 and he was 23. I hit the baby milestone too so I will never have to worry about my ability to conceive again. It seemed like I hit the professional thing when I got my first real job out of school, but then I quit when it was horrible and I haven’t had a “real” job since (even though I loved working at a restaurant and then teaching in Korea, those don’t count as serious professions for me because I could not do them for the rest of my life without petering out or getting bored.) The personal life things have happened but the professional stuff and the other things that I have filed under “GROWING UP ETC.” in the file cabinet of my mind have never been all that satisfying. And so I have worried.

I’ve been worrying about B’s job search for awhile now. We’re still plugging away, applying applying applying. I don’t want to say too much else because I’m afraid I’ll jinx it. But at some point (I think it was about two weeks ago) I just relaxed. I don’t really know what did it, but all of a sudden I was able to sleep through the night. I had been telling myself all along that things would be alright, and in the space of I week I actually started believing it and realizing the truth of it. That we are not failures. That we will never be homeless. That we’d survive if we had to through the worst, worst case situation I can fabricate in my mind. Things are never as bad as they seem.

At first, it was disconcerting not worrying. I felt like my mind was broken and that I wasn’t approaching things with the seriousness they deserve. Surely B wouldn’t get a call back from the jobs we really like if I was sleeping soundly. LOGIC. But in the past few days I’ve given myself a pass. I am entitled to not stress myself out over these things. I’m realizing that the trajectory of my life is not always in my hands and that sometimes I just have to trust that I just need to wait it out. There is no shame in waiting. There is no shame in being safe and content. If we don’t get what we want to do this year, then we will try again next year. We all love each other so the world can’t harm us.

Right now, I am complacently waiting. I am gently reminding myself that worrying does not bring changes about. It only makes me not sleep and stuff my face with carbs past 9PM. Which is kind of fun at the time but this baby weight is burning a hole in my pocket.

Thanks to everyone who has been thinking about us through all this. I have no doubt in my mind that my replenished, more healthful mindset is due to your positive thoughts and prayers.

Cover letters are also not so fun.

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B’s job hunt continues. This basically means two things: 1, that I am not sleeping so well but the time I spend awake in bed at night is spent in prayer, which it probably should be all the time, even when things are going splendidly. Praying, meditating, and focusing on all that I already have is the one thing that is getting me through this job flux and the possibility of our moving. It centers me and makes me realize that things I’m not even privy to are at work. There’s a lot of comfort in the big picture.

The #2 in my itemized list of life minutiae is that I’m helping him with all his job applications. And there are a lot. A whole lot. Like, a three digit lot. When he’s at work, I am getting all his materials together, making sure all the forms are filled out correctly, double-checking cover letters, and emailing contacts to see if they know of any openings in their area. It is tedious with a capital T. Luckily, Wee Cee has been really mellow the last few days and she has been able to entertain herself while I’m sorting all this out, which is a tremendous help. She’s pretty much the best baby ever.

Sidenote: I actually have been able to comprise a small list of New Years Resolutions. One of them is to retire the “____ is pretty much the _____ _____ ever” construction. So that is the last time you’ll hear it from me. You’re welcome.

Cover letters are not fun. They are the birthplaces of words like “synergy” and “best practices.” I don’t appreciate their dryness and all the pressure they put on you to make yourself look like a superstar when those truths should just be self-evident without you having to write about them. But whatevs. I’m sucking it up.

It’s because of all this extra work that I haven’t yet responded to your comments from my post yesterday. Honestly, I don’t know when I’ll get around to doing that or if I’m going to answer them at all, but be assured that I seriously appreciated all of them (as I always do). Giving up this kind of vigilance of my blog for a time is just one of those casualties of being busy with really, really important things. I appreciate your understanding.

I know I said there were only two things, but I lied because there’s actually one more. I seem to be playing on the Tweeter a lot lately. I like its brevity. I like that there is no pressure to write words like “collaborative” and “technology” and “experience” except in a mocking way. It gives me quick breaks from cover letter purgatory. So if I overshare or say something drunkish, just ignore me.

The end.

Some thoughts for Friday. Because it’s Friday already. I know, I’m shocked too.

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This is another installment in the “Emily doesn’t really have a theme to her blog right now but that’s OK” series. In related news, I am enjoying my relaxed hold on blogging. Treating this space more like the diary I originally intended it to be feels right. I am, however, working on a piece on one of my favorite books from when I was a kid. It should be a bit more topical. I’m excited! Really!

So the jobs. B and I have been waffling over whether our decision to quit his job and move this year is still a good idea. And for today, at least, it is. A deal is in the works to sell off our portion of some family real estate. The idea is not to live off the money that we would gain from selling it but instead to put it towards helping B’s mom purchase her home, which we would eventually inherit outright. This is a long term plan and I’m not entirely sure how it fits into our present situation, but it all seems to be related in that even if he can’t find a teaching job for the Fall right away, we would at least have a place to live while he continues to search. All will be OK. I’m learning that. Granted, I’m learning it by waking several times in the night and worrying for good measure. But the panic attacks are few and far between.

I was reading a post that Lisa wrote recently about the new year. She was talking about the things that she wanted to leave behind in 2012. (Side note: I loved 2012 because it was The Year of C but I could do without everything else. The Sandy Hook tragedy alone cancelled out any positive feeling I could have mustered for the year. I’m still sick when I think about it, especially since the NRA is being so predictably horrible in their response.) Anyhoo, Lisa is basically my Blogga Mama and I am going to be sticking by her side as she confronts a host of challenges this year. Her post made me think about the New Years post I wrote at the beginning of last year, and how my values and mindset have changed. As I read it back, I see a pregnant woman who has no idea of all that is coming. I’m glad that 2012 was a year of personal growth for me. I suspect that 2013 will be the same, and while I fear the challenges that are coming, I relish the opportunity to give my family the best of me. I can only become that person by putting myself through the fire and refusing to worry about things that are so transitory.

So if you pray, say one for us. It doesn’t have to be long or ornate. I don’t think God minds if your words aren’t all King Jamesian. There’s one job in particular that I’m thinking specifically about that may or may not make B into the coworker of one of my favorite people on The WordPress. So for the posts that would come out of that situation alone, keep us in your hearts.

General Announcements

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Apparently nowadays most schools have morning and afternoon announcements that come on over the school’s own TV channel. I guess this is integral to the professional development of aspiring TV anchors everywhere. All we need are more pundits to talk about everything and nothing all at once on CNN, so the elementary school is the best place to start honing their skillz. When I was a kid not too long ago, we still got our announcements over the PA system. Birthdays were announced, lunch menus were shared, and there were usually some reminders about turning in your Mathathon money. Instead of writing a real post, this one is going to be a bit like those announcements. I’m here, I’m alive, and here’s some stuff that has been going on.

Announcements can be fun.

Announcements can be fun.

1. We’re still on the road. We were supposed to head home from Atlanta to NC this morning, but I felt gross all night long, likely because I’ve eaten a total 100 calories of actually healthy food in the last week. Also, I’m weaning C, so I’m kind of sad about that and the physical as well as emotional strain has been kind of rough the last few days. So this morning when I woke up super early as per the usual and B suggested that we deserve a day of R&R and that we bum around Atlanta and give Wee Cee a break, I was all over that. We don’t indulge ourselves like this as often as we should so I’m enjoying today.

2. Thank you to everyone who participated in Festivus! It was so much fun and it turned out to be so much more than I could have predicted. I’m already thinking about Festivus 2013 and how to make it even more exciting. Let me know if you have any ideas! Major, MAJOR shout-out to Ashley for helping me with it. I could not have done it on my own, and she was an incredible co-hostess.

3. Christmas was fun but exhausting. I have been in a daze since we left a week ago. We’ve all been off our schedules. One night, my mom watched C while we went out with our friends and spent the night alone at my MIL Sidney’s house. This was the first night we’ve spent apart from C since she was born. It was hard; tears were shed on all our parts, but obviously we all survived. It was a necessary step. Snip snip goes the cord.

4. I’ve been thinking a lot about the blog lately and what parts of me I want it to represent in 2013. Since C was born last March, it kind of went off the rails and I’m not totally loving what it’s become. Don’t worry; I am for sure not going to be abandoning it, but sometimes I get tired of trying to be entertaining all the time. As much as I adore my readers and the people I interact with here, sometimes I feel like I allow myself to write what I think y’all want to hear rather than what I want and need to say. I am going to try to be more authentic in 2013. I may not get Freshly Pressed, but success and high stats are things I just don’t really value as much anymore. I’d rather write things that I’ll read back 10 years from now and remember who I was at the time.

4. I wrote a guest post for Kidz Showz! It’s about Gumby Adventures, one of my favorite shows from when I was a kid. Please read it, as it is way more fun and interesting than this post. While you’re there, subscribe to Kidz Showz because it’s written by Lily and Mooselicker which means it’s super funny and probably super politically incorrect, but in a good Louis CKish way.

 

I said I wouldn’t blog on Christmas.

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But here I am. I think there was something about driving down Park and slowing when I approached Holy Rosary because the extra Christmas Eve traffic and their street parking required it. The gleaming golden doors caught my eye the way they always do when I’m in Memphis. A family made their way through the doors to celebrate the Eucharist this late afternoon on the eve of Christmas.

The mother of the family was dressed in a black wool knee-length frock, its quietness underlying the festive air I had just experienced at Whole Foods, where Shiner was on special. It’s all so East Memphis, in a way that I cannot pinpoint and describe without getting nostalgic about my hometown. At some point, I gave up my proclivity to scorn this place. And the thing is, so did B, which is more miraculous than you could know. We both grew up here and bonded in college over the disdain we felt for the nicety-cloaked Jim Crow mentality and our desire to just get away.

But here we are. We walked up and down Tall Trees this afternoon with C. B recollected his stories of the inhabitants of the homes we passed and we mused over how much the houses cost. And we weren’t joking.

At some point I wanted to move back here. This place is somehow mine, as much as I trash talk it. Enough time has elapsed since I lived here that I see it with fresh eyes – the eyes of a parent who just wants one place. One place.

Today has been draped with sentimentality. It’s overcast and cool and I’m tired from sleeping in beds that aren’t my own. The baby has met people who I adore and I finally feel like I’m able to check off things on her life to-do list. So maybe that’s why I’m wanting this place. Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas and my desire to wrap myself in that East Memphis religion is hitting me right in my heart.

I don’t know. But I do know that it all stems back to the Waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but that’s OK. I’ll let you know when I find it.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. May you all find what you’re looking for this holiday.

More Than the Sum

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I am thinking a lot about my brother lately. He is more than the sum of his parts, although the sum of his parts do yield a pretty impressive human. See thus:

1. He is an Eagle Scout. He started scouting as a kindergartener and he went the entire way. No small thing. Achieving the highest level of scouting takes a level of commitment that people don’t realize.

2. He is the healthiest person I know. He works out almost everyday and has been eating like Hostess has been out of business for years. No one ever told him to focus on his health, yet he did because he cares about the temple that is his body. I am amazed that we come from the same pool of DNA.

3. He is a walking encyclopedia. Fair warning: don’t ask him about World War II, weaponry, weight lifting, gardening, dogs, or the Minor Prophets unless you have several hours to kill.

4. He’s a big guy, and when he comes in to give you a bear hug, he may or may not give you a complimentary chiropractic adjustment too.

5. He has mastered the art of telling bad jokes. Guys, they are bad, but in the best possible way. If he woke up one morning and was able to tell jokes that didn’t make me groan, I would wonder what was wrong with the world.

6. His level of compassion is one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed, period. He listens when you need to vent and he doesn’t judge you in the least bit when you bare your teeth. He is nonconfrontational and loving. Even if he dishes out a platitude to make you feel better, you will think he thought of it himself. His love is unconditional like a parent’s.

Trevor is my big little brother. He will always be my little brother since he he was born after me, but since he’s got at least six inches and about 40 pounds on me, he is my big little brother. He is more than his Aspergers. He has never, ever let it get in the way of him being a person capable of living a full, productive life. He has never once gotten down on himself because of the limitations his diagnosis could have put on him. Although he’s let down when things don’t go his way or when he doesn’t get to do something he wants to do, he’s never blamed it on Asbergers because he’s never seen it as a disability (rightly so, too, since it’s more of a difference than a disability). In fact, he doesn’t give it much thought at all, which is admirable by itself.

A positive attitude isn’t everything, though. It makes for an inspirational blog post, but it doesn’t pay the bills. You can’t put a positive attitude on your resume underneath your educational background. A positive attitude doesn’t get your car fixed or replaced when it’s totaled. It doesn’t squelch your family’s worries about you. Right now, my brother has a host of life problems he’s facing. I call him every day just to check in on him and remind him that I love him even though I don’t live close by. He’s an easy person to encourage, as he listens and politely takes into consideration all the advice you want to give him. There are gaps in the conversation and I wonder if our call got dropped when he doesn’t respond to me right away, but he’s always there, taking it in and thinking about how to respond. I can hear the gears in his head creaking over the phone.

His problems won’t be solved within the span of our conversations. Things won’t get easier overnight. My mom and I will always worry about him. But just as sure as these things are true, his attitude and his pure goodness will remain constant. Even if you can’t itemize his wonderful attributes on a professional resume, Trevor is a triumph and I know things will always be OK with him – even when they’re not – because giving in to his differences isn’t even on the radar.

He is not Aspergers. He is my brother.

Unca Trevor and Baby C

This post was written in honor of Trevor and Bloggers for Movember, in an effort to raise awareness concerning men’s mental health and prostate cancer. “Like” us on Facebook and donate here.

Here Comes the Fun

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And by “fun”, I mean tedium, stress, fear, and general grown-up time.

Those who have been following my blog for awhile know that B and I have been less-than-thrilled with where we live and his job since we moved back from Korea. He is an English instructor at a community college in an economically depressed rural area in the South. His job itself isn’t bad, but he commutes from the bigger town where we live to his work each day. We only have one car, so that limits the possibilities of what I can do with C each day. There is almost no chance of professional mobility in his school. There are some instructors who have been teaching the same thing for 35 years with no raises outside of the ones that make up for inflation.

We want to leave. We want to live in a place where we have options and where we can settle for good. We thought about leaving earlier this year, but with C coming, it was just too much to think about B quitting his job, (hopefully) getting a new one, and moving with our first child who would then be an infant. So we stayed. I think it was a good choice, but still. It’s time to think about next year, again.

It’s not just a matter of quitting and finding a job. B’s school gives him a contract in January for the fall semester, which he must sign or not sign. Here’s the rub: very, very few community colleges post new openings that early in the year, much less hire people. So basically, he has to make the decision to not sign the thing before he even has a new job lined up. This prospect was scary before we had a child, but now it’s even more daunting.

But we’re doing it. We can’t stay here any more. The longer we stay where we are, the harder it’s going to be to move later. Also, we need to move somewhere where there are employment opportunities for me, since we are unable to save any money in our current situation. I’d like to work part time, but any money I’d make from doing that would go directly towards care for C, so living closer to friends and family in Memphis is something we hope for. B is not limiting himself to teaching, since he makes next to peanuts being a instructor. He’s going to look for jobs outside teaching, but I fear that it will be a tremendous waste of time since the economy is so bad and people with experience are not even getting hired. I’m just being realistic here.

This all exhausts me just to think about it. I’ve known it’s been coming for awhile, but this year has flown by so quickly with C that it just occurred to me last week that all this mess is on the horizon. It’s scary to think about moving on without even knowing if he’s going to find a better job, but I guess this is just life.

I have been thinking about writing this post for awhile. Every time I sat down to do it, though, I bummed myself out a lot because I knew I would bum you out too. My posts here tend to be on the lighter side. Also, more and more these days I’m becoming more guarded. This is likely because I have a child now and I’m hesitant to share some of the not-so-fun stuff in our lives simply because it may affect her. I don’t even know how it would affect her, but it’s a fear I have. I simply hate being vulnerable and I don’t want her to be vulnerable too. I hate admitting that things are hard, and I hate asking for help.

But this is my life. Things are not always fun. They are not always easy. I wouldn’t be authentic to myself if I didn’t admit that this was going on. I also wouldn’t be doing any service to myself or my family by leaving stones unturned and avoiding asking for help. I guess that’s the thing about making babies: when you have them, you need to get over yourself and just do what you need to do to give them the best life they can have.

So I just ask you for your thoughts and prayers through all this. And hey, if you know of anything, please don’t be shy in telling us about it. Although I loves me some image macros, I think this is what the Internet is for.

Big Deals and Survival

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I tend to blow negative things out of proportion. This time each year, I freak out about money because B goes back to school and only teaches classroom, non-online courses. Even though he’s working more, he makes less than he does over the summer because he doesn’t have those supplemental online courses. Money is extremely tight. Plus, there’s that whole we-have-a-baby-now variable that wasn’t present last year. Right now, saving money is not an option because we need every dime. We trim the fat and exercise massive frugality, but the stress is rough. When I see our bank balance I feel a shift in my bowels.

Oh, and our computer is on its last legs, so soon that will need to be addressed. And I’m pretty sure Wee Cee is going to keep growing and will need new clothes since she can’t wear her 6MO stuff forever. This is a shame because she has the most adorable little fleece hoodie with hearts on it that I don’t want to put away. As you can see, my priorities and motivations are completely valid and sane.

My brother is also having some problems right now. He has Aspergers so his life has always been challenging, but right now a lot of things are hitting him all at once. He was dismissed from his job for reasons that I won’t go into. He works for a huge company that you have heard of, so they have an infrastructure in place for people to appeal their dismissal, so he will do that. Still, there’s no guarantee that he will get his job back. He was also recently in a car accident that was his fault, and he’s being sued by the person he hit. This is a lot all at once. He lives with my mom and she’s been parenting him from the moment he was born. He is now 27. She had been a SAH mom pretty much from the instant I was born until my dad passed away eleven years ago. After he died, she went back to school, went back to work, has since excelled in her field, all while being my brother’s primary advocate. When things are rough in my brother’s life, they are extra rough in my mom’s life because she has to pick up the pieces. She’s racked right now. I’m glad she was here this week because it gave her an escape, but she’ll soon be returning and having to face the life of T. It makes me shudder for her.

I have a knot in my stomach when I think about these things. And a knot in my brain. And in my heart. Why do things have to happen all at once? Who or what can I blame? The hardest part always seems to be the present. Yesterday I was at the store and at the checkout counter, I overheard the massively pregnant lady in front of me say that she was already past her due date. She will have her first baby by Saturday if not before. And I just wanted to tell her to make these last few days count. Your life is made so much richer and worth living with a baby – I know this so well; it’s the theme of my life – but having one does nothing for simplicity and ease.

But what I know is that things are not as bad as they could be. These are big deals, but we will survive.

In fact, if things did get exponentially worse, we would survive.

If they got to that exponentially worse place and THEN got even more terrible, we would still survive. Even then, if they got to such a terrible place that I can’t even wrap my head around it and calculate the challenges we would face, we would still survive. We have each other: me, B, and C. I have my family. I can’t count on much else, but I can count on the love I have for them to motivate me to keep my head up. I can count on my maturity, even though a lot of the time it is relatively scant. I can’t count on my education – right now it’s the student loans that weigh on me the most – but I can count on my sense, my intuition, and the logical qualities I was born with. I can count on the wholeness of my life that God has given me. He has made me realize that I already have it all, but I just need to do all I can make it worth living. I need to see this through and realize that a life full of challenges is just as worthy of being lived as a life of ease. In fact, it’s even more worth living.

There was a time when I had just gotten out of school and I was looking for my first job. I think I literally had like $1300 to my name, and one month’s rent was $750, so the pressure was on to get a job – any job. I was miserable. I was afraid I was going to have to move home and work at the Gap like I had before I finished my degrees. My body was sore because I was so worried. I’m not relaying this story to tell you that I had nothing to worry about and that I did eventually find a job, although I did. It’s pertinent because when I reflect back on that time now, I remember it not being as horrible as I thought it was. I survived the backaches, the headaches, the stomachaches, the sleepless nights.

I recognize it as definitely not the hardest thing I had ever been thought. I survived that. I’ll We’ll survive this.

Let’s do this.

Tales of the World: Get Naked

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Awhile back, Maggie wrote a hilarious post about her experience at a Korean sauna in America. After I read her account, I realized that I’ve been holding out on y’all. I have defied one of the most basic principles of life for far too long: the law that says it’s virtually impossible to go to a 찜질방 (jimjilbang) and not share the experience with every living soul around.

The universal sign for the jimjilbang in Korea Source

But where should I start? Should I start with the gauntlet of lockers and keys? Should I start with the salt room? Should I start with how you can drink beer and get Dippin’ Dots there?

Should I start with the karaoke and computer rooms? Should I start with the pink and blue uniforms? Should I start with the tanks of little fish that nibble dead skin off your feet? Should I start with the unabashed nudity?

Yes, I will start with the nudity.

At the jimjilbang*, there are two sections: the co-ed saunas and lounging areas, and the communal bathing areas. When you use the communal baths, you are stark naked. Upon entrance, you are issued one towel (two if you’re lucky) the size of a beverage napkin, and those things can’t be expected to cover up a dinner plate, much less a regulation-sized human being. Bathing in a swimsuit is not permitted. I tend to believe that it was because the Koreans wanted to see us foreign fatties in all our glory. So you enter the bath and you see it all. There are girls and women ranging from ages two to 100 (not kidding). Once, my fellow foreign friend ran into one of her students there. Yeah, both were nakers. And there is no personal space. There is no personal space in all of Korea, but when you’re naked and everyone is looking at you because you’re foreign and fat different, you’re much more aware of it.

*I swear I’m not being pretentious by calling the bathhouse/saunas by their Korean word; it’s just that I lived in Korea and this is what we always called it. OK so I’m being pretentious.

At the jimjilbang we frequented, there were several bathing areas: the showers, the warm baths, the hot baths, the close to boiling baths, the tepid baths, and the ice baths. All are right in the open and non-chlorinated. People would submerge their heads in the water and it always left me a bit throw-uppy that they felt OK doing this in human stew. But whatever. Just eat some kimchi and that’ll knock any bugs out of you.

The nudity will lambaste you if you are not used to it. I didn’t really want to get used to it. I have body issues that will never go away, and the bathing sections only exacerbated them. For that reason, I only used the baths once, the first time I went. But what B and I DID go back for again and again were the coed saunas. These are not the  saunas that I was used to in the US and Europe. For one, you have to wear the uniforms that are issued to you upon entrance. The women’s were pink and the men’s were blue, and the kids’ uniforms were yellow. Everyone has their own place.

The big central room at a jimjilbang Source

You enter a huge open communal area where people of all ages are just lounging around. Families always spent the day there since there was a restaurant at the jimjilbang. There are TVs, bookcases, a snack bar, massage chairs, and even little hovels where you can curl up and take a nap or sleep off your hangover; people used the jimjilbang as a super cheap hotel all the time because they were open 24 hours and you were just charged one fee upon entrance. Off the big room are multiple little doors to the separate saunas, which are all different temperatures. My favorite was the salt room where you could pile salt stones and pebbles all over yourself. I tended to forget that thousands of sweaty people had done the very same thing with those very stones.

The salt room at a jimjilbang. Ours was better because there were tiny salt pebbles all over the floor too. Source

The saunas were all hot, but the mother of them all was the room that was literally shaped like a kiln:

Here’s where you bake yourself. Source

The door to the kiln was only about 3 1/2 feet tall, so you felt like a Hobbit when you go in, which is kind of fun. Baked Hobbits – doesn’t that sound like some kind of pastry? I digress.  B and I can’t remember exactly how hot it was in there, but we both guessed that it was about 140 degrees Fahrenheit. It was sweltering and humid as all get out. The floor was made of dirt because I think anything else would have gotten way too hot. In the middle of the room was a 15 minute hour glass, and I don’t think we ever saw that thing to its completion.

There was an ice room too. The room was literally walled in ice coils. It was pretty cool (har har). You were supposed to alternate between the hot and cold rooms to get your circulation amped up. Kids were always playing in the ice room. Half the time there would be an impromptu Pokemon convention going on.

Then there were the random rooms. There was something called an Oxygen Room which always perplexed us because all the rooms had oxygen in them. But there was a TV in there that always had soap operas on, so I guess “oxygen room” sounds better than “soap opera room.” There was a PC room, which just had a bunch of computers where boys played Starcraft. There was a noraebang, which translates to “singing room”, where you could sing a song on stage with all your friends.

I don’t know if Miss C will ever live overseas. I hope she does at some point, just so she can experience a culture other than her own. I hope she goes to the equivalent of a jimjilbang, whatever that may be. I hope she dives into the hottest water she can reasonably handle and savors the experience. And I may come to regret saying this, but I hope she gets naked.

I mean, as long as the only other naked company she keeps are 95-year-old Korean women. If not that, I just don’t want to know.

Questions? I know you have questions. It took me forever to write this post because I had to edit so much out of it so it wouldn’t be 15,000 words long. And some of the best stuff got cut just because they need posts of their own. So ask away. Give me the opportunity to tell all the extra stories in the comments.