Wanna go, Tom? |
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Excuse the dodgy haircut...
And spaced out expression. I was waiting with Tom at the pharmacy and I noticed something spectacular - massage chairs, while you wait. There were two that looked like kid's booster seats, which punched you in the back unpleasantly, but I dibsed the full-body, bliss-inducing black behemoth. Can't wait for the google searches on that one.
Haaapppppyyy Plllaaccceee! |
My parents will be visiting for two weeks, starting July 24th. I can't wait! We're gonna try sannakji, and I promise to write about it.
Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom.
Forget paying $22 at the supermarket, I got this baby for $5 on my walk home. Perfect snack during a hot summer, a hot hot summer!
I could have bought a watermelon twice the size for about $12 but the thought of lugging 15kgs of fruit home was off-putting. This thing barely fits in our fridge as it is.
Pro tip: say hi to the fruit guy as you walk to school, and he'll give you a discount. Being nice pays, kids!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
This Post is About Lasers and Features My Face a Lot
A couple of months ago in this right here blog I wrote about the awesomely-priced eyewear available here in Korea. If you have a couple of minutes, you can refresh your memory of that glorious post by clicking here. The other thing Korea does super cheaply? Laser eye surgery.
Korea's trying to become a destination for medical tourism - in February the South Korean government flew over two New Zealand women for weight loss surgery as a promo (proof) - and I've become a medical tourist. With good reason - my surgery cost me 1.8 million won (a smidge over $2,000 NZD) a third of the price I would have been charged at home.
I went for two consultations - one at Eye Medi in Gangnam, Seoul, and the other a little closer to home at Pureun Eye Center in Jeonju. The consultations are intense, you're subjected to two hours of testing and prodding and checking and eye-puff-receiving, including a nasty paper in the eyes experience to check dryness:
... and some pupil-enlarging eye drops that make you look drugged out and mess up your close vision for 4 hours (or 24 hours if you pull an all-nighter to watch your boyfriend run a 5K).Pro tip: I found that if I took my glasses off and my close vision improved. I could see clearly for about 10cm, meaning I could use my cellphone.
Both clinics were great - EyeMedi has an English-speaking staff member named Cathy, who is fantastic, she sat with me through all the tests and texted me a few days later to see if I was okay. A friend had recommended the clinic after getting LASEK, saying Cathy was on hand during the operation for reassurance. The clinic even paid for a hotel for my friend to recover in overnight, amazing service!
Pureun's staff aren't as fluent in English, but they did their best to make me feel comfortable during my two hours with them (when they weren't poking me in the eye.) The two doctors I saw spoke fairly good English, and one in particular (Dr Kim) did a great job answering all of my questions and explaining all of the procedures in detail. Dr Kim performs Lasik, not the Lasek surgery I was after but he told me he'd accompany me to surgery if I wanted him to. The Lasek surgeon at Pureun doesn't speak English fluently.
Ultimately, I decided on Pureun - mainly because it's an 2 hour return trip for checkups rather than the 6 hour haul to Seoul and back. The prices were the same at both clinics, although EyeMedi offered me the surgery for 1.6 million after I said I wouldn't be getting my eyes zapped there.
2 weeks after my consultation, I rocked up to Pureun scared out of my wits. The technicians ushered me into a small changing room where I put on some splendid pyjamas and my bravest face:
I waited for about an hour (when I wasn't reading consent forms and spending a lot of time on Facebook) before being whisked off for a final eye test. When the technician told me to leave my glasses with Tom I thought - this is it! No more of these awful things! And then I had a horrible rush of glasses nostalgia, picturing us (me and glasses) running in meadows and climbing trees and such, which was quickly replaced by the thought of being able to open a dishwasher like a normal person.
Apparently being pre-surgery does odd things to my imagination.
I had to wait while the previous surgery finished up, tense with nerves. Being without my glasses was necessary but made the situation worse, I did not enjoy being in a strange fuzzy room while an ajumma inspected me with her one good eye. After what seemed like an eternity (three minutes) a nurse took me into the operating theatre and rubbed iodine all over my face. It was a weird moment of calm for me, and felt like some kind of spa treatment.
I was told to lie on the operating table and the zapping started. The procedure took about 10 minutes in total, 10 minutes of staring at a light while my vision blurred and cleared and blurred again. Not sure if I've stressed this enough, but I was very nervous. Fortunately Dr Kim was in the theatre with me to hold my hand and offer some comforting words. The procedure was completely painless, except for the sticky bandage they plastered over my eye socket which stung as they peeled it off. The grossest part - and I'd read about this - was the smell of what I thought was burning hair. Turns out that's what burning flesh smells like, too.
The worst part came after the surgery, when I was sent downstairs for a blood sample. It was horribly painful, after the nurse had taken out the needle she pinched the crook of my arm until I felt like crying. I was left with a bruise that only faded yesterday. The blood was for ... eye drops. The clinic let the sample settle overnight and siphoned off some plasma which I have to drip into my eyes 4 times a day. Gross huh? Yeah, super gross.
Before I left the office I got these babies taped to my eyes. I had to wear them at night for two weeks, to prevent me from scratching. I also had to wear them all the way home which increased my already high Daily Stare Quota.
Along with my stylish eyewear is a list of things I can't do:
I went for two consultations - one at Eye Medi in Gangnam, Seoul, and the other a little closer to home at Pureun Eye Center in Jeonju. The consultations are intense, you're subjected to two hours of testing and prodding and checking and eye-puff-receiving, including a nasty paper in the eyes experience to check dryness:
Unpleasant. |
See that thin ring of brown? That's my iris. Spaced out expression unplanned, I swear. |
Pureun's staff aren't as fluent in English, but they did their best to make me feel comfortable during my two hours with them (when they weren't poking me in the eye.) The two doctors I saw spoke fairly good English, and one in particular (Dr Kim) did a great job answering all of my questions and explaining all of the procedures in detail. Dr Kim performs Lasik, not the Lasek surgery I was after but he told me he'd accompany me to surgery if I wanted him to. The Lasek surgeon at Pureun doesn't speak English fluently.
Ultimately, I decided on Pureun - mainly because it's an 2 hour return trip for checkups rather than the 6 hour haul to Seoul and back. The prices were the same at both clinics, although EyeMedi offered me the surgery for 1.6 million after I said I wouldn't be getting my eyes zapped there.
2 weeks after my consultation, I rocked up to Pureun scared out of my wits. The technicians ushered me into a small changing room where I put on some splendid pyjamas and my bravest face:
Ajumma style! |
Apparently being pre-surgery does odd things to my imagination.
I had to wait while the previous surgery finished up, tense with nerves. Being without my glasses was necessary but made the situation worse, I did not enjoy being in a strange fuzzy room while an ajumma inspected me with her one good eye. After what seemed like an eternity (three minutes) a nurse took me into the operating theatre and rubbed iodine all over my face. It was a weird moment of calm for me, and felt like some kind of spa treatment.
I was told to lie on the operating table and the zapping started. The procedure took about 10 minutes in total, 10 minutes of staring at a light while my vision blurred and cleared and blurred again. Not sure if I've stressed this enough, but I was very nervous. Fortunately Dr Kim was in the theatre with me to hold my hand and offer some comforting words. The procedure was completely painless, except for the sticky bandage they plastered over my eye socket which stung as they peeled it off. The grossest part - and I'd read about this - was the smell of what I thought was burning hair. Turns out that's what burning flesh smells like, too.
The worst part came after the surgery, when I was sent downstairs for a blood sample. It was horribly painful, after the nurse had taken out the needle she pinched the crook of my arm until I felt like crying. I was left with a bruise that only faded yesterday. The blood was for ... eye drops. The clinic let the sample settle overnight and siphoned off some plasma which I have to drip into my eyes 4 times a day. Gross huh? Yeah, super gross.
Before I left the office I got these babies taped to my eyes. I had to wear them at night for two weeks, to prevent me from scratching. I also had to wear them all the way home which increased my already high Daily Stare Quota.
I'm sure Tom loves waking up to my googly face every morning. |
- shower (4 days)
- wash my hair (2 weeks)
- exercise (2 weeks)
- go swimming (1 month)
- drive a car (3 months)
- look at a computer screen for more than 30 minutes (indefinitely)
I had my third post-op eye test yesterday and my vision's 20/20 for the first time in 12 years. After the surgery I took 2 days off school to recover, the only time I have felt any pain was when I let them get too dry. It took about a week before I could comfortably walk around and use a computer, and now two weeks later things are slightly blurry but that should clear up soon.
I won't lie, there were a number of occasions during that first week where I freaked out that I'd messed up my vision forever, and I started using the bumpy yellow things on the pavement to get around, but the first time I was able to read something other than the biggest letter on the eye chart, things started to feel pretty special.
I won't lie, there were a number of occasions during that first week where I freaked out that I'd messed up my vision forever, and I started using the bumpy yellow things on the pavement to get around, but the first time I was able to read something other than the biggest letter on the eye chart, things started to feel pretty special.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
In Lieu of a Real Post, Here are Some Pictures
T-shirt of the day. |
Song Hak - one of my worst (but sweetest) 6th graders. Song Hak has a HUGE crush on one of the English teachers. (hint: me) |
Perfect for all important documents. |
Beautiful Lotus Blossoms near Bukdae in Jeonju. They are the size of dinner plates. |
Kids splashing in Cheonggyecheon, Seoul. |
Yup, it's Kimchi Chocolate, and it's coming to a care package near you. |
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tastes like a (very) sub-par Moro Gold.
Do you think it's called guts because the crispy outside and smooth chocolate coating represents your intestinal wall, and the creamy nougat centre stands in for..... uh. Yeah. |
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
1500 won. How could I resist?
Update: Korean Blogging powerhouses Eat Your Kimchi featured the hangers here. Totally beat them to it.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Riddles
So far my co-teacher has made two contributions to our upcoming English camp. The first was to draw six squares on a piece of paper (one for each of the lessons) and write "sing a song with Thomas" in one of them. The second was to write "What Am I" in another square and then tell me she had made an activity. What she meant by this was that she wanted me to make an activity where the students will solve riddles. For an hour.
So, like any moderately well paid university educated 25 year old I spent all Monday morning reading awful, awful jokes on the internet. Here's a summary of my findings in Venn diagram form.
And in more detail:
So, like any moderately well paid university educated 25 year old I spent all Monday morning reading awful, awful jokes on the internet. Here's a summary of my findings in Venn diagram form.
And in more detail:
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