Moving day bottom line:
it went really, really well.
But every move comes with glitches. Which is where the opportunity to laugh (or commit most righteous murder) comes in. So here are the highlights.
Back story: Nick moved to Korea in August 2012 and lived in a studio apartment on campus. After returning to Iowa for Christmas/Winter break (nearly 8 weeks), he and Elisabeth returned to Korea in February, expecting to move into the new International Faculty Hall (IFH) as it was due to be finished. False. He and Elisabeth therefore both lived his studio apartment, waiting until the building was done. In March. Then April. In May, for sure! Sam, David and I sold our house and most of our belongings in May; we packed the rest of our belongings, which were picked up by a moving company and sent via ship to Korea. And still ... no new building. So, the five of us went from a huge house (4 floors) to living in Nick's studio apartment plus two other studios in the same building. And, at long last, IFH was finished this week! Well, finished enough to have the university start moving some people in, including us.
Keep in mind that the Ship of Belongings was due to arrive in 6-8 weeks (early to mid-July). After much paperwork (copies of all our alien registration cards, passports, customs forms and other documents barely translated into English), our stuff was ready to be released from the port. It has been 10 weeks, and this may be the best way to live simply - you just don't miss your stuff much once you've lived without it. Anyway, the international movers could deliver our stuff on the same day that we were moving to our new apartment, which meant one move instead of two. Hooray!
We rise early and had Dunkin' Donuts to prepare us for the 8:30am arrival of the campus movers (CMs - they would move our stuff across campus) and the 9:30am arrival of the international movers (IMs). Elisabeth and I went to the new apartment to clean the cupboards and floors while the menfolk waited for the movers.
We arrive to see a moving truck parked outside the new building. If it is ours, they are an hour early. One man is peeing at the edge of the new parking lot, which has only 10 parking spots, so he's not exactly hiding. We decide they must not be our movers.
We take the shiny new elevator up to the 5th floor, excitedly go past doors 503, 502, and arrive at #501, and ... the door is locked. We haven't been given the entry code. We can't clean or move in. We go back down, discover the moving truck is open, and there is Sam's bike! We try to communicate with these Korean men that the apartment door is locked and we'll be back; they try to communicate something. Maybe that they're airing out the truck. Or waiting for donuts. I don't know.
We went back across campus to inform the the menfolk. Nick made numerous calls; no one is answering until 9am. No sign of campus movers.
We get the door code and go back. Oh. The furnished apartment has... one bed. No fridge, stove/oven, couch, A/C, washer, table, chairs, phone. And the lights don't work. I like the faux wood floor. And built-in floor-to-ceiling closets with shiny white doors. Yup. Sigh.....
Given our experience in Korea, which is a bizarre combination of say, Nigeria and Silicon Valley, we come up with a mantra. "Are we surprised? No. We are not surprised." And, surprisingly, this helps us laugh. For a moment.
The international movers - two Korean men in their early twenties and a Korean guy in his 50s - are ready to go. They speak about as much English as I speak Korean, which is less than your average parrot. The two younger guys are in charge of bringing stuff from the truck to the apartment; I am stationed next to the older guy at the door as I check off the box numbers on their forms (some mover from Sioux Center, Omaha, Los Angeles, Busan, or Pohang has put numbers on them). Our conversation goes like this for each box:
Me: "Number?" We both look for it on the box, I announce it in English (which he likes to imitate) and make a show of checking it on my form, then point to the room where he should take it.
Him: "Ok? Ok!" or "No numba!" if we can't find one.
Repeat for about 86 boxes. Or 100 boxes. It depends on who's doing the paperwork. I am not surprised. Koreans love paperwork. Have I mentioned that it's over 100 degrees and high humidity? We sweat in the shade standing still.
Once we're done, I fill out the customer survey (in English!) about mover helpfulness and whether anything is broken. Elisabeth and David have been unpacking some things and we found a broken decorative plate (I'm sorry, Wacousta Pottery!) and a broken chalice (I'm sorry, Carl Huisman!), so I checked "yes" on "broken items." This was apparently Not Ok. Well, I did pack my own stuff (insert detailed moving drama here), it's not really their fault that my "fragile" warnings were in English instead of Korean, and it's really not a crisis, so I cross out my "yes" and check "no." Ok? Ok! and we share smiles all around. I notice drops of sweat all over the floor.
We have noticed that the empty and unlocked apartment above us (not scheduled to have any residents this semester) comes fully stocked with furniture. Later in the morning, we notice a ladder/truck lift at the window right outside our entry door (see earlier blog on campus moving). They are campus movers, going to and from the window to the apartment above us. Oh, my hopes are rising... and indeed! They are removing the upstairs couch, fridge, table/chairs, desk, bookcase, washing machine, and fridge...which they load onto a truck in the parking lot below. Not to our apartment. I remain fridgeless. And couchless. But lo! I am not surprised. Nope.
The university has provided us with a 3-bedroom furnished apartment. We have shipped our queen-bed, but no other bed. So we need 3 single beds, as Nick stated to the Official Department in February. However, the Official Clipboard Person (OCP) who comes says three-bedroom apartments only come with 1 single and 1 queen. We did not want the queen so we only get one single. But we have 3 children. That does not matter. The OCP sent a memo out 4 months ago about the standard furniture. Nick is struggling to remain a Christian. We go to McDonald's for lunch (and the air-con, as they call A/C here) then go bed shopping. The different stores have ... the same catalog and the same (high) prices for bunk beds and trundle beds. We'll look on-line. Sigh...
An hour later, the campus movers move a ladder/lift... to our window! And then load each item from the truck onto the lift and through the window instead of using the empty elevator (the adorable IMs are long since gone). They used the truck lift and the awkward window. Oh my. Koreans do not value convenience or safety measures nearly as much as Americans. But still. Ok. Breathe. I am not surprised.
Oh, wait, no, I do not want the desk. We did not ask for a desk. No. We already bought one and have moved it in. I do not want the desk. I did not ask for the desk. No. No. They ignore me. And load the desk from the truck to the ladder/lift through the window, past me into Elisabeth's room on top of her monopoly game and blanket. No. Take it out. They are grouchy. So am I. But they do it. Oh, wait! I also do not want the desk chair. Or the bookcase. Repeat. Breathe. I am not surprised. But I sure do want a diet coke.
The campus moving men were due at 8:30 and arrive around 2. Fine. They haul things up the ladder/lift through the window to our living room. We scuttle them (the stuff, not the CMs) into various rooms, guessing at their content as we've hastily packed with they many suitcases and bags from our travels and the campus dumpsters (thank you, Handong students). Fine. It is the hottest/humidest day in galactic history. By the end of the afternoon, two of us have significant chafing and walk like cactus-prickled cowboys. No baby powder can be found at the campus store. Or baking soda or chickpea powder or anything else Google recommends as a substitute.
We eat a wonderful gift of cupcakes for dinner. We have no beds for the boys. But we have a self-inflating queen mattress (thanks Oma and Opa!). But we forget that the motor is 110v and using an international plug adaptor does not turn the motor into a 220v. which is what Korea uses. A burning smell wafts through the apartment. The motor is shot. But we can use the handpump from the raft! Slow and sweaty wins the race. And through the night, the invisible leaks become apparent. I am not surprised. Sam and his trusty duct tape attempt to make amends, but they finally part ways with a slash of a knife.
Finally, finally, it's time for showers. In the master bath, there is no curtain or other barrier between the shower and the sink and toilet. Very European! One might become hysterical, laughing about the day's dramas, but one must take care not to spray the toilet paper. The bathroom floor drain, by the sink, is slightly higher than the floor. So one brushes one's teeth while standing in a puddle.
Exhausted, chafed, and quickly sweaty again (thank you Colliers for the fan!), we are all to bed by 10. No one can sleep. Suddenly, my side of the bed breaks with a loud crack. Apparently, the support sticks under the slats in the middle had stuck to the vinyl floor when I'd pulled out the bed earlier to access the room's only outlet, which ripped them out of the slats.
We've not all slept in same place, on same floor where we can hear one another since... when? It's like we're camping. We share bad jokes, riddles (stinky pinkies!), and my dating history. It's so, so hot, but we finally drift back to our beds and nearly...
At 11:35pm, someone starts drilling holes in the concrete walls upstairs. When I fall asleep at 12:45, they are still going strong. But I...am not surprised.
And in the morning I find a little friend in the shower stall. Sam names him Tim. : )
Yesterday I needed to remove some stains from three shirts. I did not have the oxyclean spray I would have used in the US, and I've never been a very good housekeeper so set-in stains are generally allowed to live. Plus, I have always feared bleach (my grandma once burned her hands badly with bleach; my mom ruined my favorite shirt in 7th grade by bleaching out its black stripes) so I haven't used it, but I now have Time on my hands and my new role of Housewife to practice. Plus, we had a bottle of bleach from Nick's previous apartment. See picture.
Today, Sam and I were feeling restless and decided to go to a beach; I drove (a rare occurrence as both Sam and Nick prefer to drive). We took a route through the rice paddies, which have lovely cement roads that allow us to see the rice and the egrets up close. (Egrets are giant white birds - you've seen them standing on alligators and hippos in African safari shows. They like to hunt frogs in the rice and I adore them.) 
Anyway, the paddy roads are also narrow and are rather unpredictable in terms of where you end up. Unfortunately, we followed one that ended abruptly. Dead stop. With no place to turn around and steep banks on either side, I had to back up for 1/4 mile to the nearest intersection. Which I did pretty darn well, though Sam kept gasping and asking (begging) if I wanted him to drive. (Men.)
Now, the narrow cross-road to which I successfully backed also had steep banks and a set of very short cement "railings" on the sides; this tiny bridge went over an aquaduct. This particular intersection also happened to have a Korean bicycle man who had stopped (dead stop) to stare at our progress. He apparently could not bear to watch me negotiate the 23+ point turn that scraped and bumped over the cement and so BOTH men decided to give me directions - one in mortified English and the other in Korean hand gestures. Our windows and the sunroof were open, it had begun raining, we were all getting soaked, and I could not stop giggling like a fool. 
