Dear Friends and Family,

On Friday noon, after weeks of heavily weighing pros and cons, after studying up on Asian geography, after sending resumes in response to what seemed like 100 jobs, after several job interviews and subsequent job offers, I agreed to and signed a contract to teach English at an International School High School in Daegu, South Korea.

Seriously.

And there’s no getting around it, the cool, analytical part of my brain is pleased with my decision, while on the whole, I’m shell-shocked. And there’s also no getting around this: the pragmatic details are a headache and a half – in fact, I almost hesitate to announce this days after agreeing to the contract because not all of the details have been sorted out, leaving a lot of questions and a lot of room for doubt (in my mind). What I do not doubt; however, is that school starts on September 1st and they want me available for an orientation on August 27th. That is like, oh, less than a week from now. And to enter Korea, I shall require a Visa. And for this Visa, the Korean government requires:
1. A copy of passport (easy)
2. 2 References (almost done)
3. 3 copies of signed contract (ok…?)
4. 1 Sealed University transcript (a huge problem – college grads: remember the fun of dealing with University administration? Drama, drama!)
5. Original University diploma (Must be FedExed from the States to Korea)
6. Medical form - simple health check, nothing to complicated. (I hope)
7. The criminal record (Huh. And how do I prove that I don’t have a criminal record?)
8. 2 passport size photos (doable although likely involves UPS from Chang Mai to Korea)

From what I had read, silly me, I had formed the hope that that committing to a job would diminish the stress of job hunting and allow me to coolly be a tourist in Chang Mai for a few days before journeying to Korea. Never in my research had I run across a mention of the difficult to fulfill requirements of an original college diploma, a sealed transcript, a criminal record search or a medical certification. So job-hunting has now morphed into Visa paperwork nightmare. And this isn’t over by a long shot so stay tuned… and I promise to keep the whining to a minimum.

Anyway, on Friday, after I had set as many paperwork balls in motion as possible except for an actual phone call to my parents (to be made after Seattle sun rise), I decided to celebrate my momentous decision by treating myself to a nice dinner. As I walked the mile and then some from my cybercafé to my room, I noticed that evening was descending prematurely, that the air had developed a thickness in moisture, and that the dark gray clouds shrouding the hills were fit to burst. I grimaced and hoped that they’d hold off ‘til I could shower and walk the few blocks to my restaurant. I walked into Paddy Fields, my forehead dotted with sweat, my clothing already feeling as if it had been in the shower and greeted the receptionist. “Hot?” she asked. “Oh, yes!” I replied. “I think it is going to rain tonight.” She informed me. I agreed but nonetheless rushed upstairs for a shower. I changed into a blouse and capris – fancy pants for a girl who has been living in shorts for weeks – and walked downstairs and out into rain. Not particularly disturbed, I put up my umbrella and made my way down the sidewalk while the rain turned into torrential and the torrents turned into a deluge while lightening flashed and thunder rolled. I gripped my umbrella so hard that the handle fell off, banished an image lightening being attracted to my metal umbrella frame, laughed and began to sing “I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain.” I knew that this was a mite crazy but the rain was coming down so hard that it was thundering, bouncing off the sidewalk high enough to wet my short pants, and although I turned up my volume, I still couldn’t hear myself over the drum of the rain on my umbrella. A few blocks later, I arrived wet and breathless at the Ratchamankha hotel to order dinner from a menu that Lonely Planet described as “Thai-centered, with hints of Vietnam, Japan and Europe floating around the periphery.” It was raining so hard that I became certain that soon gondolas would be floating around the periphery.

The restaurant was high-fluentin’ gorgeous: linen table clothes, gorgeous antique blue and white tiles and plates, cloth napkins that the waitress insisted on placing on my lap, and antique beautifully smoothed wood everywhere. Despite the storm, I dined in an outside covered courtyard where I could hear traditional Thai musicians playing a stringed instrument + drums, while lightening flashed over the roof line and thunder sometimes disguised that the musicians seemed to be playing the same song over and over. I ordered an entrée and dessert: rather tough duck in tamarind sauce, served with slightly salty mashed potatoes and a mango flambé that was not actually set on fire for my enjoyment and tasted like warm mangoes smeared with jam. It ended up being one of those expensive meals where reading the menu was tastier than the actual consumption of the food: but I was philosophical and while it was expensive for Thailand, I’ve spent more at Red Robin than I spent there so…

Anyway, the rain, lightening and thunder continued throughout dinner. When it looked to have eased up, I glanced at the clock and decided to make my way back to my cybercafé to call my parents. I said thank you, paid my bill and made my way to the front porch where I noticed that my cheap, flowered umbrella had been stowed behind several nice umbrellas. Again, I laughed… and I put my umbrella up and set out. Upon my reaching the end of the drive, the rain changed from patters to pouring – which didn’t seem promising considering I had a good mile to walk but I was quite determined and there is never a tuk tuk when you truly need one. So I got pretty darn wet – my pants soaked from the bottom up and my arms had huge patches of splashes, and even my hair got wet when my umbrella developed a leak in its center. I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t miserable – I determinedly walked around puddles, around the beginnings of flooded storm drains, and clung to the resolution that I had to do start dealing with Korean Visa details that night. And I formed a new resolution to buy a sturdier umbrella ASAP.

When I arrived at my cybercafé, the monitors were off and the kindly German owner informed me that the storm had knocked out his Internet access (which is how I’ve learned to make affordable international calls). My shoulders sagged but I sat with him for a good 25 minutes to see if it would return. It did not. So I set about town in the now-lessoning rain to find an International telephone. I found one while on the way to 7-11… and called my parents, who had already received my urgent e-mail and had magnificently arisen to the Visa crisis with a plan. I apologized for not calling them earlier and explained that there was a rather furious storm going on here… I’m not sure they took me seriously on the storm front and I was too preoccupied with paperwork details to accurately describe the environment around me.

The rain had petered off to the occasional big splatter by the time I headed back to my hotel – wet but not miserable. The streets were empty of pedestrians and songs began to filter through my head. And soon, I began to sing. There were few people around to appreciate a strange, wet American, singing “All That Jazz” or “Love Me Tender” – and I cared little when I glimpsed an occasional awed audience member – although I did smile and grimace and clap my hand over my mouth for one old Thai woman. I was reminded of the last scene in Bridget where an old man calls to her “Good luck, Crazzzzy Girl!”

I stopped to take a few photos when I arrived at a completely flooded intersection with a street restaurant whose tables were immersed in a good three inches of water. Cars continued to drive through the flood, creating rooster tails of water, and disturbing the flood to the point of sending waves sloshing across the sidewalk and onto my already wet feet. I didn’t mind that much and continued down the street splashing and singing and enjoying my one-woman, traveling karaoke performance. Eventually, I wasn’t satisfied with my lyrical recall so I pulled out my iPod, selected a song, and stuck one speaker in my ear while leaving the ear closest to the street open so I could pay attention to the vehicles sloshing through the roads around me. I was safety conscientious! I changed the speaker ear every time I crossed a street.

I made it safely back to the hotel, where I gleefully confirmed with the receptionist that her weather forecast had been accurate and made my way upstairs for another shower and a good night’s sleep in preparation for Doi Suthep.

I sang in the shower too.

Good night one and all,

Crazzzzy Girl!