"Minsung! Minsung! Singer girl! Time to get up!" I heard a pounding at the window and sat up, rubbing my eyes. My fingers were still sore from the ukulele, but they'd improved, I could tell. I glanced at my watch, but had to turn on the little glow light so I could see it, since it was still dark in the room. Five in the morning. I couldn't help but smile. They thought they were getting me up early? This was only ten minutes before I usually got up! 

But don't let them know that it's easy, or they'll make it harder. I learned that trick from my father. So I got up, took some extra time getting dressed in my junky clothes, and didn't comb my hair, so that it would look like it had been difficult to get myself up. They had been kind and welcoming to me yesterday, with a nice dinner (Although it had been extremely difficult to choke down a few bites of kimchi, to be polite), but I knew farm people. Once the work began, they could get cruel really fast. And they'd enjoy it. Although I can't really blame them. When my cousin would come to our house from town, I always used to laugh while I watched him whine about all of the hard work that I was so used to at our house. And we had it easy. All we had were chickens and a vegetable garden. I can only imagine how difficult it would be for him to work at a real farm like this one. 

Thinking of that, I laughed to myself, and was ready to face the day. When I left the room, I wasn't too surprised to see the lady of the house and my ever-so-interesting film crew waiting for me. They had their cameras trained on me while she told me what I'd be doing.

"While the rest of us are out in the field for the harvest, we need you to take care of the everyday things, so we don't have to send anyone to do them. You're doing things around here, so we can worry about the rice fields. Understand?"

"Nae, ahjumma." I'd stumbled on a few words, but I got the gist. "What do you want me to do?"

"Follow me." I nodded courteously, then stuck my tongue out at the camera and did as I was told. She led me outside, and out to a hand pump next to the barn. It was warm for a September day, but I suppose that my sense of the weather would be all screwed up, now that I was no longer in Wisconsin. I used to be able to sense whether it would rain or snow just by the temperature in the morning. This would make it hard to adjust. 

"First of all, before we eat breakfast, the animals have to be fed and given water. You'll do this." She grabbed the pump's handle and pulled it up and down a few times, then stuck the bucket under it, for the water to run into, then left the pump in the upward position, so it stopped. "Here's your first bucket. The cows need about ten buckets to fill their water. The chickens only need one. Make sure you fill the water dishes for the dogs and cats as well." I nodded. All of this before breakfast? Well, my arms were going to be sore. Water was heavy. 

"The food for all of the animals is inside the barn, next to the door. You should be able to figure out which is which. Make sure you fill the cows' food tray. If you have any questions about that, you can ask one of the farm workers. Understand?"

I nodded, so she took me back inside.

"After breakfast, you'll stay to wash the dishes. Can you figure out how to do that?"

"Nae, ahjumma. Should I wear those rubber gloves?" The pile of dishes was pretty large already, and the family hadn't even eaten breakfast. 

"Yes. The soap will damage your pretty hands. Come look for me for more instructions after this." And then she left. Right. Work time. Water first. I'll get that out of the way.

The camera watched me pump the water, then carry it over to the cows, my arms shaking. "This is only the first bucket, and my arms hurt already," I said to it as I dumped the bucket into the water tub. "I haven't worked out in a while, not to mention that I'm puny. I'm strong for my size, though! Hwaiting!"

Bucket after bucket, to the cows, to the chickens, then the feed... it took me ten minutes to read the Hangeul that marked the different feed for the animals. I almost gave the chickens cattle feed on accident. But I didn't! 

When I finally came in for breakfast, my arms felt like they were going to fall off, my stomach was grumbling like mad, and I had lost track of all of the crazy things I had said to the camera out of sheer boredom. My hands may have been busy, but my brain gets bored pretty easily. That's why I talk to myself. Which I guess was a useful trait for the camera, now that I thought about it. Most people thought it was weird.

We were having some kind of stew for breakfast, which I thought was a bit unusual, but hey, what was I expecting? Bacon and eggs? This was Korea. I'd never really experienced the Korean breakfast at the dorm, since Min Hee never ate breakfast (never got up early enough), so I always had to pour myself a bowl of cereal or grab a piece of fruit on my way out the door, since we couldn't afford the big, two-hour-to-make pancake brunch that I had enjoyed on the weekends at home.

Still, it was pretty tasty, despite being a bit strange to eat for breakfast. There was plenty of conversation, from the hired hands making fun of me for my accent, to the landlord asking me about being a singer. I told them that I was actually a songwriter, so they told me to sing them one of the songs I wrote. Which was a bit difficult since I didn't exactly have Kangta's song on me. But I promised them that I'd perform something at supper, since we had to start working soon. I think they liked me, and were surprised that they did. I guess that they expected that I'd be some sissy American city girl, since I was sent from an entertainment company. 

And all the while, the cameras watched, like never-closing eyes and ears. It should've been creepy, but I was starting to get used to it. I wasn't sure how interesting viewers would find this, but if SM felt like spending money on it (Since they rarely felt like spending money on anything), it must be a good concept. 

Everyone went out to start working in the rice fields while I stayed back to wash dishes. Dishes, dishes, everywhere, dishes, dishes in my hair! No really, I got a spoon stuck in my hair. It took a few minutes to get it out. After that I put my hair up in a ponytail. Anyway, it took a while to wash them all. And then I wasn't sure where to put them away, so I had to give myself a full kitchen tour in order to put the plates back in their proper place. 

When I was finally finished, I went and found the landlady, and she gave me a pair of rubber boots and told me that my next task was to clean out the animals' pens and give them fresh bedding. She said it with a smirk, and I knew exactly what she was asking. Time for the cameras to watch Minsung shovel poop. Looks like John was right. 

So, armed with rubber boots and a shovel, I went first to the barn to shovel out the cows' stalls. It smelled bad, but it could've been worse, I guess. Actually, my neighbor's barn back home had been much cleaner than this. But I guess that was because it was a dairy farm, and a relatively successful one, so they had all of the modern equipment to make things easier. This farm's focus was the rice, and that didn't bring in as much as they'd like, so their equipment wasn't exactly state-of-the-art. So here i was, shoveling cow poop by hand. Thank goodness the cattle were all out in the pasture, or I may have had a real problem on my hands. Actually, I'm terrified of large animals. It's not a terror that'll make me run screaming or make me shy away from them, but a kind of subtle fear. they made me really uncomfortable. 

Since they were gone, however, I had the barn to myself to clean. Well, me and the camera crew. At one point I "accidentally" threw a shovelful of crap in their direction, just to see how they'd react, but they must be pretty used to having large objects thrown at them, because they barely moved at all, yet didn't get a scrap of poop on them. Darn. These people were really tough. 

"Actually, I used to do this all the time at home," I grunted to the camera, dumping a shovelful into the bucket, "but with chicken poop. There was a lot less of it, though." By then, I was sweating, and i can imagine how beautiful I looked for the camera. I probably looked like a walking dungheap. 

"Still, this isn't so bad. It could be worse. That's actually my policy. Every time I hear someone say 'it couldn't get any worse', I just laugh, because it can always get worse. I'm a bit of a cynic, I admit." More shovelfuls. "There, does that look clean to you?" I looked up at my cameraman. He didn't say anything. 

"Hello?" I asked, "Do you think that's clean?"

No answer. 

"Well, I think it's clean. So we'll go with it." I shook my head, grabbing the bag of bedding to spread on the ground. "This sure is fun. Digging through crap, with no one to give me company but my mute cameraman." I looked up at him again. "Cameraman? Camerawoman? I don't know, I can't tell through the mask."

A miracle. As if actually responding to my statement, I saw a hand reach up and pull the mask from the face. 

I winced. "Sorry, my mute camerawoman." 

I moved on to the next stall. "If my roommate, Min Hee, were here, she probably wouldn't know where to start. I wonder how she's doing back home? Do you think she has her own variety show, like this one? Wait, why am I asking you? You never answer me. I'm sure that you're just trained out of it in camerawoman school, and you're really laughing your off inside, but you just can't show it. It wouldn't surprise me a bit."

I ended up singing to myself, just to pass the time while I worked. It must've taken a while to finish shoveling, because by the time I finished, I was running out of songs. Finally I went to the chicken pen, to clean their area. 

"I'm almost done!" I shouted to the camera as I put the last shovelful of chicken poop into the bucket. "Now I just have to put the shavings down and-"

"Minsung! While you're in there, can you grab the eggs and bring them in here, and then go help Mr. Kim out in the rice field?!" I heard the landlady yell from outside. 

I made a face at the camera, but yelled "Nae, arresseoyo,  Halmeoni!"

It was dark before I knew it. I came into the house, to find dinner already prepared. Halmeoni said that she had just been about to call me in. I'd been picking rice for the past three hours, and my back hurt like nothing else. Add that to the pain in my arms and legs from hauling water and shoveling crap, and I was sore just about everywhere. But it was finally time for supper, and then I could go to bed. 

I'd almost forgotten that I'd promised to sing them one of my songs during supper. They, however, didn't. Before they let me go to bed, they gathered behind the table and pressured me to sing for them. What was I supposed to do? I wrote lyrics, not music. Not to mention that I hadn't really written anything. I couldn't just sing a song and pass it off as one I'd written; not only would that be wrong, but there was no telling what songs these people listened to, even though they lived out in the country. What to do?

"Do you mind if I sing a song by another artist? I haven't prepared any songs of mine," I explained, giving in and just telling them the truth. Luckily, they didn't seem to care. I guess they were just tired of work and wanted some kind of entertainment to brighten their day. 

"Hang on a minute, I have to go get something." Quickly I ran into my room, and came out with my ukulele. I wasn't very capable with it yet, so using it as background while I sang might not go very well. But there's only one way to find out, right? 

I sat down and strummed a note- badly. I winced as it twanged through the room, hardly the note I'd been aiming for. 

"Sorry about that." I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, trying to make my hands stop shaking.

I started strumming, correctly this time. 

"Arirang, Arirang, a~ra~ri~yo..." It was the first Korean song I had learned from Nakata-sensei, my vocal training teacher. But my host's faces seemed to light up when they heard me sing it. I felt proud of myself, even though the chords I was playing on my ukulele were extremely simple, and I could hear myself go sharp every now and again. But they clapped at the end and said that I was a wonderful singer. I don't know, maybe Mr. Kim was just going prematurely deaf.

Nonetheless, I went to bed feeling good about myself. Or, at least, I went to my bedroom. I didn't expect my camera crew to follow me in there. And then the leader told me to sit down on the floor and face the camera. 

"So, Minsung, how do you think the day went today?"

Oh my gosh! They spoke! I can't believe it! 

My mouth dropped open for a second, in shock. I guess they though it was because I didn't understand, so they repeated the questioning.

"Uh, I... well..." I shook the shock out of my head. I guess it was interview time. I'd better get my head in the game. "I'm pretty sore all over. It's really hard work, but I think it's rewarding, in a way. There's a bit of satisfaction from holding something in your hands, knowing that you helped make it happen. Like when I went to the rice containers and ran my hands through them, I felt proud of myself, because it wouldn't have been there if we hadn't have picked it."

"How different is this farm in Korea from the farms you lived around in the United States?"

"You have to remember, when you talk about the United States, is that it's a big country, and wherever you go in the country, you'll find different farms that specialize  in different things. For example, in California, where you have the highest Asian population, you'll find all kinds of vineyards and orange orchards, and mass-production dairy farms, but in Wisconsin, you have apple orchards and family-run dairy farms. So I think a better comparison would be the farms in Wisconsin to this one. In which case, I'd say that what they produce is different, and the work that goes into them are different, but in principle, they're the same."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, in Wisconsin, farmers grew corn to feed to animals. It had a similar season, but corn is cared for differently. Corn, alfalfa, things like that. It was cattle feed for dairy animals. That was the biggest focus. Here, the focus is the rice crop, to feed the people, and they have animals on the side. But they're essentially the same, because of the way their run and the care they have for their crops. In both kinds of farms, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication to get a good result. To be a farmer, you have to be able to read the weather, and love what you do. You get up early to start the day, and come in late."

"And how about your host family?"

"They're good people. I think they expected less of me than they recieved. I just hope that I can keep this up." I laughed. 

They asked a few more questions, and then called it a night. So I went to bed, and dreamt about home. The scent of cow crap in the summer breeze. Our neighbor's barn parties. Eliz's bonfires. The ugly crow of our rooster in the morning. It was what I had known for over ten years.