Today’s topic is Korean medicine/medical treatment for minor
problems. So far, I’ve had two interesting experiences with it, and figured
they were amusing enough to share. Feel free to disagree.
Story 1: Since I’ve been in Korea, I’ve had a cold. It’s nothing
major, just a scratchy throat and stuffy nose, so I haven’t sought out
professional treatment. It could be due to a number of things: not getting
enough sleep (either because of my schedule or the time difference), Korean
germs being different from American germs, or the fact that the weather is
fluctuating constantly. Regardless, the end result is the same: I am sick. It
is not fun.
My co-teachers are great, and hate seeing me miserable. One
in particular, who is a bit older, told me that I should try ginseng; she and
her daughter take a small teaspoon of ginseng twice a day, and it keeps them
from getting sick. Thinking it’s got some kind of nutritional value, I say ok,
I’ll try some. What I didn’t realize is that she meant right now. As soon as I
said ok, she pulled out a jar from her desk drawer, along with a small spoon.
She scoops out a spoonful of what looks to be molasses, which sparks the
association of ‘sweet’ in my mind.
I was wrong. So very wrong.
I put the entire spoonful in my mouth, directly onto my
tongue, and had to physically stop myself from vomiting right there in her
classroom. It is without a doubt the most foul tasting thing I have ever tried,
and I’m a rather adventurous eater. The best description I can give is if someone
took wheatgrass, soaked it in mud, wrapped it in moldy cardboard, and somehow
pureed it to the consistency of honey. Maybe with an extra handful of dirt
thrown in. You know, for texture.
It tastes like the physical representation of self hatred
and despair. I’m convinced that if it had been easily found in ancient times,
Heracles would have forgone his 12 Labors because eating ginseng was punishment
enough.
It was pungent and
bitter, but the worst part? IT LINGERED. I drank so much water trying to get
that awful taste out of my mouth, but I swear my taste buds were still
detecting the vile substance until lunch.
But after all of that, my co-teacher was so excited that I
was trying ginseng, and was so convinced that it was going to help me get
better, that she took me to a store to buy some after school. We found one that
was mixed with honey (although it still tastes pretty terrible) and I bought a
small jar (the pictures above are mine).
As it is with many things in Korea, if it makes my
co-teachers happy, I’ll do it. You’ll find this attitude pretty common with foreign
teachers here. Our co-teachers are our lifeline, oftentimes our main window to
a Korean lifestyle, and we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want to experience it.
Story 2: After eating lunch a few days ago, my stomach
started to hurt. Those of you who know me are aware that stomach pain is pretty
regular for me, and I deal with it just fine on my own. But this was different,
and it was occasional sharp pain rather than a general ache. I ignored it for
about 15 minutes, but when going to the bathroom didn’t help any, I decided to
go to the nurse’s office. Because the nurse speaks hardly any English, I asked
one of my co-teachers, who had a free period, to come with me to translate.
We managed to get my symptoms across to the nurse (who is
the sweetest lady ever. We eat lunch together often), and the expected
questions were exchanged. I had already ruled out the more extreme possibilities
(like appendicitis), and suspected it was some mild food poisoning. I was
expecting to have her examine my stomach, or maybe give me some medicine and
send me on my way. Instead she had my lay down in one of the beds in the room,
on my back, and put a heat lamp over my stomach. It was translated that I was
supposed to lay there for 25 minutes, and could sleep if I wanted to.
It’s a good thing that I knew it wasn’t serious, because if it
was, I would have been more upset about being told the equivalent of ‘sleep it
off’.
But that’s not the interesting part of the story (I’m a terrible
story teller. I know. Bear with me).
My co-teacher gave me a foot massage.
Now, it’s cold in my office. The school is on a strict
budget, so the hallways and teachers’ offices aren’t temperature controlled. I’ve
been wearing jackets and even gloves in my office to keep warm, but it’s
cumbersome to type with big leather gloves. As a result, my hands are usually
freezing. And my feet as well, because we wear slippers in the school, so my
poor toes have only my socks to keep warm.
As I’m laying down in the nurse’s office, heating lamp on my
stomach, mildly irritated by the pain, my co-teacher reaches over to get my
attention and touches my hand. She exclaims that it’s cold as ice (to which I
shrug, naturally). Then she gets up and begins to massage my hand in an attempt
to get the circulation flowing. This didn’t particularly weird me out. I have
given and received hand massages from time to time, and I find it very
relaxing. But when she finished both hands and moved down to my feet, my entire
body tensed. It’s not that I’m particularly creeped out by someone touching my
feet, but that’s a line I’ve never crossed in a friendship setting. When I told
her she didn’t have to do that, and made to pull my feet away, she grabbed them
and continued rubbing them, saying that improving the circulation in my feet
would help the circulation in my stomach. She was completely nonchalant, and in
fact maintained a conversation with the nurse over the divider while she was
doing it.
To set the scene again, I’m laying down in a nurse’s office,
looking at stickers of Pororo and Winnie the Pooh, listening to two different
conversations in Korean, with a 40 something year old woman I’ve known for 2
months rubbing my feet.
I was sufficiently distracted from my stomach pain. I thank
Monica teacher for that.
(In case you were curious, I later discovered that my
breakfast yogurt had been 6 days old.)
Those were my 2 quick experiences with ailments in Korea.
Hopefully nothing serious happens here to require further updates ^_^
안녕!
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