The Korean summer is making itself very apparent.
The days are getting steadily more humid, and you seldom see a closed window on the huge high-rise apartments.
Next to most residential telephone poles is a squirming bag of compost, which is mostly watermelon rind.
Umbrellas are out in full force, and won't go away after the rainy season. Sun umbrellas and huge black sun visors are staples of the older Korea lady's outside gear.
Ice cream is everywhere and at all times, often bought by the armload from convenience store freezers. There's no special Korean word for ice cream (that I know of...) so "ice creamu" is a catch-all term for any plastic-wrapped ice related treat— freezies et al.
When I make a trip to the bank, I'm suspicious about half of the people sitting inside aren't waiting for service, but sneakily enjoying the air-conditioning, like the way we used to loiter in the frozen food isles of supermarkets as kids.
I don't have air-conditioning.
I think I need another fan, or four.
A Canadian writer teaches English and finds out what it's like to be a foreigner.