So this week was a fun one. On Monday we did a cooking class with our preschoolers. I know, me teaching people to cook. Not a very sensible move on the part of my head teacher, but beggars really can't be choosers. However the "cooking" really was not the best word to use to describe the art of cutting up a watermelon, making a sandwich and creating rice cakes. I tried to explain to the teachers that "cooking" implies "heat", "oven" and burning of ones skin. However, they were undeterred in their thinking. Sandwich making was a blast. Not. The melon ensemble proved tasty and I had a right rollicking good time making rice cakes. Rice cakes are balls of rice that have a thick sticky dough like constitency. To make in the non traditional way, the "dough" comes in a cardboard box in a square shape, the dough is torn from the square,pulled and plied to form a mini pizza base shape, red bean paste is added to the centre,the dough is rolled to form a ball and is then rolled in cinammon powder for flavour.In theory. A bunch of 5 year olds see sticky food and think, "Let's wreck the classroom, our clothes, teachers clothes and just about anything else we can touch". Apart from George. George is one of those special kids that appears to have knowledge control issues as it takes him a good half an hour to figure out something, by which time the rest of the class has moved onto something else,while George blurts out the answer to something from a question posed half an hour ago. However,I have an enormous soft spot for George. He was fascinated with the concept of making rice cakes, but the rolling-into-a-ball-process had him completely at a loss. Eventually after much demonstrating and after the other kids had gathered boxes of the things, George eventuallly got to bring home a whole rice cake to his very proud parents.

Bless.

George however, was not content with just making the rice cakes and found much greater enjoyment from mashing the mix with his fingers that had previously taken up temporary residence in his nostrils and then stuffing said mix into my mouth. No wonder I am sick.

The heat here is slowly starting to kill me. Today saw another 36 degrees. Leaving my apartment is like walking into a brick wall of heat. For the next few weeks I am refusing to mingle with the great outdoors and will be found in places that come equipped with uberforce air conditioning only. Although I have my summer vacation coming up next week so I guess I just might venture outside.... sunshine permitting. Of course I could do the same as the ladies here who are scared stiff of the sun. Women here believe having white skin is a sign of great beauty ( the range of skin whitening products in cosmetic stores is rather terrifying), therefore anything that might tarnish that look is not appreciated. So when they are out and about on the streets of Daegu, many women have little sun parasols held over their heads to shield their faces from the sun. I personally think a good dose of factor 50 would do the trick, but then there is no accounting for taste.

And speaking of taste, Ian, Matt and I went for some food tonight and shock of all shocks, one of the side dishes served consisted of whole potatoes. I almost cried and almost choked as I tried to fit in way too much at once. Maebh will appreciate this joy,as we like to rank galbi restaurants based on whether or not they serve potatoes as a side dish..... I know....

Anway must go look up some medical sites so I have one up on the doctor for tomorrow.