Heading home (just for a bit)

After two years in Korea, I am heading home for a few weeks. Rather excited about it, particularly because it is freezing here in Seoul now (minus 8 in the morning makes for a very difficult beginning to the day, especially when one of your children refuses to put on a jacket and insists on walking outside in her underwear) and in the other hemisphere that I call home it is currently Summer.  

While I am a little concerned that my fashion sense might  need some readjusting when I get to Melbourne (friends, please don't be shy about telling me that I am not supposed to wear anything other than black and that I really should take off the leopard prints that I have mixed with tiger print that is mixed with some fluorescent colour that is topped off with a good bit of bling and an oversized sun visor and that when I go for a walk in the park that may have a small hill I do not need to wear my hiking pants or boots or to bring my poles) I am totally excited to:

• buy some shoes for my ridiculous gigantic feet that apparently no Korean women have;

• eat a sausage (sorry Korea but the sausages here just don't compare to the Sausage King in Ringwood); 

• drive a car on a road where drivers (mostly) know how to use a roundabout. I almost died yesterday because I have always been under the impression (well, once I passed my driving test and realised that you are not meant to drive up onto roundabouts) that you have right of way when you enter a roundabout. Apparently bus drivers do not know that rule; and

• stand on an escalator and listen to the conversations around me and actually understand what people are  saying (although I suspect that novelty will wear off rather quickly as maybe I don't want to hear other people's conversations. It has been kind of nice to exist in my little bubble).

But, as I am starting to pack, it is becoming apparent that there are things that I don't want to leave behind. Some of it just won't fit into five suitcases, four day packs and one ridiculously huge handbag. Some of it might not actually be allowed in by Customs and some of it can't be packed at all. 

This is my top ten list:

1. Bags of frozen dumplings: "Mandu, Mandu, Mandu" has become a very constant (and sometimes annoying) cry from the children at least once a week, one child would probably live off dumplings if she could. We have tried every frozen packet variety out there, encouraged by the local supermarket that always has mandu taste testings on offer (nothing better than free mandu),  and they are all delicious!  

2. Kim, kim and more kim. No, this is not a person that I am attempting to smuggle in (although I have met many, many very nice Mr and Mrs Kim's). Kim in this case refers to dried, salted seaweed and we love it almost as much as (or, if you are my middle child, then even more than) mandu. 

3. Hot packs and cold packs that you simply rip open and pop into your pocket for instant heat or cold. It is like walking around with your own hot water bottle only it fits in your pocket like a square bean bag. A secret pouch of happiness that is just awesome. 

4. Instant shaved ice from a shaved ice machine. I want a shaved ice machine. And I want it with red bean and coffee powder. And I want it all the time. 

5. Watermelon sacks. Imagine if these had been around when they were filming Dirty Dancing. It would have totally altered the classic "I carried a watermelon" line to something like "I carried an orange and yellow recycled plastic bag sack that snugly and firmly held a watermelon which made it a lot easier to climb up all of the steps to get to this forbidden dancing den." This may not have the same ring to it as the original line but at least, because of the watermelon carrying sack, Jennifer wouldn't have been so out of breath when she locked eyes with Patrick.

6. Mosquito electrified tennis racquets. Oh my goodness people. I never knew that killing a mosquito could be made enjoyable, so incredibly enjoyable, when you get to fry that little sucker with a battery operated electrified tennis racquet. Husband lays claim to what was an inspired shot across the bed one night, zapping the mosquito with a powerful forehand and a leap vertical to the bed (we won't talk about the shoulder injury he suffered upon landing). I have a bit more of the John McEnroe/Lleyton Hewitt in me and have been known to shout "Come on!" in rather angry tones as I search for those elusive wing buzzing insects. But when I smack one down and hear the satisfying zap of the racquet (and, if it is the middle of the night you even get to see a spark of blue electricity) I go to sleep just that little bit happier. (Word of warning: racquet does not work so well on husband's head)

7. A wonderfully efficient public transport system and  fantastically cheap taxis that are easy to catch when you have had enough of wresting with your kids on the public transport system.

8. Car parking attendants. I am now very used to men (it is always men) instructing me on where and how to park. I don't think the car park men feel the same way about me however. While I have got so much better, it still does take me a little while to park precisely (why the Shinsegae (fancy Korean department store) car park men force me to repeatedly drive my car in and out until I am as close as physically possible to the pole without hitting it I don't know but I do it. And there is no need to take offence when I don't go into the first park you point me to (especially if that parking space is between a Porsche and a Ferrari - I feel I can only push my parking luck so far). 

8. All Korean BBQ restaurants. For my children, this is now their second favourite meal (after mandu that is). I fear for them, and for me, as to how we will cope with possible withdrawals from this amazingly scrumptious meal. In the altogether too scary an idea that we may not be able to partake in nn. for the next three weeks, I will be packing a few boxes of the special red pepper paste to get us through the break from bbq. 

10. The smell of slightly burnt rice in the morning accompanied by roasting coffee and sesame seeds. My nose tells me that this is what I can smell around my local neighbourhood every morning. I quite like it.

But wait, there is one more - because every top ten list needs a number eleven. (This is the sappy part - we all knew that I was going to get here eventually.) My number eleven is the one that I want most of all to pack but, sadly, just cannot: My new friends and the friends of my children. At the thought of going away again, even just for a holiday our family broke down: middle child cried and cried (and is still crying) at the thought of not being able to play with her friends for three weeks (she is the well-adjusted middle child); oldest child is sad about leaving her secret diary club behind and not doing any homework with her friends (the conscientious one); youngest one is worried that her teacher might forget about her and the school might close down without her (the one with the rather healthy self-esteem); and Husband - well, he  not worried about anything. (But then he doesn't really have any friends unless you believe that i-pads and i-phones have actual personalities. I don't.) As for me, I find it ironic that the worst part about travelling is meeting new people (I get it that me saying don't talk to me until I have had my first coffee can come across as rather rude) and the best part about travelling is meeting new people (when you do try to talk before that first cup and they don't care that you are making no sense at all and then they bring the coffee to you!). Two years in and my little family has kind of hit our groove.  But, because I am rather desperate to see old friends and family, have run out of vegemite and, having now come to terms with the fact that I don't have a Korean shaped body and most likely never will, I would really like to buy some new jeans (and I think the rest of the world would probably also like to see me in jeans that actually stay up, especially when the rest of me sits down), home I shall come, red pepper paste, kim, dumplings, mosquito tennis racquets, ice shaving machines, watermelon sacks and all!! (I agree to leave the men, the buses, trains and taxis behind for now.)