The Complications of a Fan

The most amazing thing about living in South Korea is the way my life has simultaneously been drastically simplified and complicated.  Eating, something you take for granted, is a long complicated process where I'm standing there squinting, trying to read Korean like an 80-year old woman while pronouncing and gesticulating like a 3 year old girl.  At the same time, regardless of the first alphabet translation then the translation from "jigae" to "stew": life is simple.  Whatever I end up with--whatever my various hand gestures have communicated--is what I've ended up with.  I was vegan for three years, stressing about what was in what broth, if butter was used to fry vegetables or if anchovies were used in the ceasar dressing.  Now I need to eat, and in the meantime I want to experience the food that is a major aspect of Korean culture from bulgogi to kimbab.  This is why, when my Korean friend ordered a fan for me to be delivered to my school for me to take home for me to assemble... I didn't break down.  I didn't stress and I didn't worry.  Even when I opened the directions to this:

This was going to happen.  No matter if it took 20 minutes or three days, I had no choice but to be patient with myself and simply.....do.  So there are the steps to assembling a fan in Korea...





Step 1: Look at the box for any preliminary clues.  Try not to give up immediately.

Step 2: Try to stay calm as you read what seems like the apparently "Don't Do No Matter What Or You'll Die" section.  As you sit there, trying to take mental notes based on pictures, try not to totally stress about what the heck this could possibly mean...and in the meantime try to remember not to stick an outlet into an angry piece of gum.

Step 3: Stuff a bunch of pieces together and see if they stick together.

Step 4: Bask in your genius.  You are now basically fluent in Korean.  Or if not, at least your cool.