“I got bamboozled by Korea,” says my new friend Anthony over dinner the other night.
I couldn’t agree more. Days in Korea seem to slip quickly through my hands, so that each evening I am left scratching my head and wondering where the hours have gone. Time becomes an even more baffling idea when you consider that I have become a certifiable insomniac since arriving here - like so many people, it seems. Bedtime has quickly been pushed back from midnight, to one o’clock, then two o’clock and now it seems difficult for me to pull back my sheets anytime before 4am. Jenna insists that there must be caffeine in the kimchi, but it definitely appears that some of the Korean productivity has rubbed off on the foreigners: I now found myself grocery shopping in Home Plus at 2am, reviewing class material until 3:30am, and then pulling myself groggily out of bed at 10am to hike a mountain or view a temple. As someone said to me the other day: “You either leave Korea an alcoholic, an insomniac, or a sex-addict.” Maybe being sleep-deprived isn’t so bad, after all.
There have been many changes for me in the last few weeks, and I am starting to feel somewhat settled into my new life as a “Tee-cha!” There are about 8 CDI school branches in Busan, and I changed schools two weeks ago, going from working at the smallest branch in the city to CDI headquarters, which is the largest school with over 850 students and about 16 teachers. My classrooms ballooned from four students to sixteen, and as of today, I have just a scratch of a voice left.
Keeping so many elementary school kids on task and quiet can be difficult, although the discussions and debates we have are far more animated than at my old branch, which I enjoy. My precocious students quickly become some of my favorites, although I am fast learning disciplinary tactics as well. So far they seem most frightened when I stand in the center of the room in dead silence while I wait for them to quiet down, a killer look on my face. Some of my fellow teachers have suggested using “pressure points” (placing a hand VERY firmly on a kid’s shoulder) which is undetectable by the CCTV we are constantly monitored on. This may sound bad, but most of the students are punished at school by being slapped on the hand with a ruler in front of the class (brings back memories of Mr. Roberts’ paddle at MY elementary school!)
I also finally moved into a permanent apartment last weekend, which has bettered my quality of life dramatically. Although my temporary housing was quaint, I was keen to live somewhere that didn’t involve a dark walk home through back alleys after work at night. And after seeing several roaches scurrying up the walls, I was more than ready to change locations!
My new apartment is in a very modern high-rise building called Sky SK Hub, and I am on the 18th floor with a magnificent view of the city and the nearby mountain. The studio is, of course, completely tiny but it has a REAL shower (enclosed with a door!), a large fridge and washing machine. The best part is that my building is attached to a huge store called Tesco Home Plus, which is like a Super Target with clothes, electronics, food, home supplies and everything else you can imagine. It is also connected to a large mall, with a movie theater, a food court, Dunkin Donuts, Coffee Bean and Tea, and across the sky bridge is the entrance to the subway. I literally have to step in the elevator and everything is at my fingertips. It’s so convenient and fantastic!
Things have been hectic with all the changes, trying to buy things for my apartment like silverware and bedding and most importantly, a kettle for tea. But Jenna and I have attempted to get out and about before work each day, especially since Jenna leaves soon to return to the States. Last week we spent a morning at Hurshimchung public bath, the largest jjimjilbang (bath house) in Asia, which my guidebook says is the ultimate Korean experience. These spas are a cornerstone of Korean life, frequented by both sexes where you can bathe in anything from ginseng to pine needles.
Jenna and I had read up on spa etiquette before arriving, but were still unprepared for the ritual that followed. First, you receive a key from the front desk. Then you walk up to the first set of lockers and remove your shoes. You pad barefoot farther into the locker room, where you remove all your clothes. After wrapping the key around your wrist, you follow the line of Korean women up a ramp into a cleaning area. There are rows of plastic stools, where you are supposed to sit and thoroughly cleanse yourself. Loofahs and sponges are provided, and many of the old Korean ladies were vigorously scrubbing each other’s backs and arms, while Jenna and I attempted not to dissolve into giggles (rather unsuccessfully, I think).
After twenty minutes of scrubbing, we entered a huge circular room with a domed skylight in the center. Different spas were scattered throughout, with hundreds of Korean ladies chatting quietly, soaking or doing water exercises. Jenna and I started out in the salt baths, and then moved to the grape baths. The key to the jjimjilbang is to switch back and forth from hot and cold water, which invigorates the senses. We endured the piping hot sauna, soaked in tea leaves, and had our backs pummeled by large waterfalls. Strangely wonderful, we decided at the end, and I would definitely go again.
If hours of spa soaking don't give you an idea of how serious Koreans are with personal grooming and appearances, let me just say that I think most people in this country are looks-obsessed. Koreans pick apart every minute detail of their bodies, so that it isn’t “I’m feeling fat today” but “My neck is too short” or “My nostrils are too narrow.” Our Korean friend Monica, who is absolutely tiny, often complains of her “large face.” Because her face is so large, she explains, her parents will not allow her to grow her hair long (she is twenty-four years old). Shorter hair is more flattering to her big face, she says.
It is completely baffling, and strangely reminds me of the film “Means Girls” when the three popular girls stand before a mirror, analyzing their thighs and foreheads and every other body part. “I used to think there was just fat or skinny,” Lindsay Lohan’s character narrates, "but apparantly there are a lot of things that can be wrong with your body." Monica has also explained to us about the lines and shapes Korean women aspire to create on their bodies – some of this was lost in translation, I’m sure, but it goes something like this: a woman’s chest should create an M shape; her back should be a V and so on. All this makes me think twice before leaving the house! Gotta look good for the Korean women who will undoubtedly be sizing me up on the subway.
It is hard to believe I have been here in Korea for almost 5 weeks now - somehow it feels like an eternity since I slept in my own bed or drove down the streets of Palm Desert, and yet each day in Busan flashes by in a blur. Even now, I know I must dash as I have to quickly change into my teacher clothes, catch the subway and prepare for the onslaught of students that will noisily fill my classroom in mere hours...
"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else"
- Emily Dickinson.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Tee-cha! Tee-cha!
Sometimes I seriously question the material I am being asked to teach my students.
The level of my students’ English varies – some of them have lived in English-speaking countries and speak almost fluently, while others seem to understand only half of what I’m saying. It is hardest with my lower-level middle school kids; it seems that if they don’t have a solid grasp by the teenage years, it’s a lot more difficult for them to move forward. The younger ones just soak things up like sponges and are far more fearless about speaking.
Some of the material I am teaching is particularly difficult, and fairly amusing. My most difficult class has been Memory English with some painfully shy teenagers. Class usually starts out like this:
“How are you guys doing today?” I ask in my “teacher voice” (louder and far more energetic than I really feel).
Silence. Bored, blank stares.
I try a different approach. “CHARLIE! How was your weekend?”
He stares at me. Looks kind of petrified.
“Okay, Charlie. Was your weekend GOOD, or BAD?” I ask, doing thumbs-up or thumbs-down gesture.
Now he looks positively fearful. Still no response.
“GOOD, Charlie? Or BAD? FUN? Or NOT FUN?”
At this point, even if they understand me, they’re probably thinking Who is this crazy girl waving her thumbs around and talking to me like I’m deaf?
Still, no response.
And let’s be clear here: this is the class where we are reading a book about The Salem Witch Trials. That’s right – The Salem Witch Trials. I can’t get the kids to tell me if their weekend was good or bad, but I’m going to explain words like Puritan, trial, bewitched and religious freedom?!
The best part came when we were looking at a picture of the women accused of being witches. An angry crowd of Puritans is pushing her toward the edge of a hill.
“Okay, guys, what do you think is happening in this picture?” I ask. “Does the girl look happy or sad?”
Blank stares.
Then, a hand goes up.
“Tee-cha! Tee-cha, what is that thing by neck?”
I glance at the picture. The girl clearly has a noose around her neck.
“Ummmm….I think that’s a rope,” I say, hoping they won’t pursue the topic.
“Rope, tee-cha? Why rope?”
“Uh, yeah. Um, I think the girl might be hanged if they think she is a witch.”
“Hanged, tee-cha? What means hanged?”
Please picture a half-dozen innocent Korean children staring up at you, wondering what on earth a rope is doing around this girl’s neck in the picture. I really thought the low-point was when I had to explain “hanged” to them, and the scared looks that followed. But no. The low point really came about twenty minutes later, when we were writing practice sentences.
The example sentence read “People today may not understand the Salem Witch Trials, but it is important for them to learn about it.” The class was then supposed to construct a similar sentence with the words “Foreigners” and “Columbine.” The sentence they were supposed to put together would read something like “Foreigners may not understand Columbine, but it is important for them to learn about it.”
“Tee-cha! Tee-cha! Columbine? What Columbine?”
“What the hell kind of material is this?” is what I’m thinking at this point.
So then I had to explain to my innocent Korean students about Columbine and listen as they gasped in horror.
“Tee-cha? Tee-cha, students shoot tee-cha? Shoot students?” they asked, horrified.
And they still don’t understand what a Puritan is.
The level of my students’ English varies – some of them have lived in English-speaking countries and speak almost fluently, while others seem to understand only half of what I’m saying. It is hardest with my lower-level middle school kids; it seems that if they don’t have a solid grasp by the teenage years, it’s a lot more difficult for them to move forward. The younger ones just soak things up like sponges and are far more fearless about speaking.
Some of the material I am teaching is particularly difficult, and fairly amusing. My most difficult class has been Memory English with some painfully shy teenagers. Class usually starts out like this:
“How are you guys doing today?” I ask in my “teacher voice” (louder and far more energetic than I really feel).
Silence. Bored, blank stares.
I try a different approach. “CHARLIE! How was your weekend?”
He stares at me. Looks kind of petrified.
“Okay, Charlie. Was your weekend GOOD, or BAD?” I ask, doing thumbs-up or thumbs-down gesture.
Now he looks positively fearful. Still no response.
“GOOD, Charlie? Or BAD? FUN? Or NOT FUN?”
At this point, even if they understand me, they’re probably thinking Who is this crazy girl waving her thumbs around and talking to me like I’m deaf?
Still, no response.
And let’s be clear here: this is the class where we are reading a book about The Salem Witch Trials. That’s right – The Salem Witch Trials. I can’t get the kids to tell me if their weekend was good or bad, but I’m going to explain words like Puritan, trial, bewitched and religious freedom?!
The best part came when we were looking at a picture of the women accused of being witches. An angry crowd of Puritans is pushing her toward the edge of a hill.
“Okay, guys, what do you think is happening in this picture?” I ask. “Does the girl look happy or sad?”
Blank stares.
Then, a hand goes up.
“Tee-cha! Tee-cha, what is that thing by neck?”
I glance at the picture. The girl clearly has a noose around her neck.
“Ummmm….I think that’s a rope,” I say, hoping they won’t pursue the topic.
“Rope, tee-cha? Why rope?”
“Uh, yeah. Um, I think the girl might be hanged if they think she is a witch.”
“Hanged, tee-cha? What means hanged?”
Please picture a half-dozen innocent Korean children staring up at you, wondering what on earth a rope is doing around this girl’s neck in the picture. I really thought the low-point was when I had to explain “hanged” to them, and the scared looks that followed. But no. The low point really came about twenty minutes later, when we were writing practice sentences.
The example sentence read “People today may not understand the Salem Witch Trials, but it is important for them to learn about it.” The class was then supposed to construct a similar sentence with the words “Foreigners” and “Columbine.” The sentence they were supposed to put together would read something like “Foreigners may not understand Columbine, but it is important for them to learn about it.”
“Tee-cha! Tee-cha! Columbine? What Columbine?”
“What the hell kind of material is this?” is what I’m thinking at this point.
So then I had to explain to my innocent Korean students about Columbine and listen as they gasped in horror.
“Tee-cha? Tee-cha, students shoot tee-cha? Shoot students?” they asked, horrified.
And they still don’t understand what a Puritan is.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Stranger in a Strange Town
It seems funny to think that Korea is known as the "Land of the Morning Calm" (also sounds like the name of a Yogi Tea?) since so much about Korea seems to be about change and "bali, bali!" (hurry, hurry!) I nearly get plowed down in the subway on my way to work, and little old ladies continually cut in front of me when queing for the bathroom.
Although the lack of common courtesy (in my Western eyes, at least) can be frustrating at times, it seems to be the way Koreans have found so much success in recent years. They have the 13th largest economy in the world, and Seoul was just named the globe's 3rd most expensive city. This is a huge leap from the 1950s, when Korea was one of the poorest countries in Asia - nowadays, the technology boggles your mind...I can use my thumbprint to get into my office and people watch TV shows on their cell phones on the subway commute home. It's the most wired country in the world, and South Koreans have the world's 2nd highest IQ (after Hong Kong). However, they also work at least 12 hour days, scoff at holidays, and children attend school on Saturdays. I guess there's always a price to pay.
My life here is a bit more slow-paced, and I'm happy to say that I enjoy more than the 5 or 6 hours of sleep my elementary students get on a nightly basis. I'm still not completely settled in - there were a few problems with my housing (the first studio CDI showed me was tiny, dark and depressing) and I ended up spending 3 nights with my friend Jenna in her matchbox studio apartment, sharing a single bed. I'm now in a temporary apartment, if you can call it that. Like many Asian countries, space in Korea is tight, and my "room" is roughly 300 square feet or so. I live very close to the subway, down a series of back-alleys in what seems to be a very local neighborhood. I have yet to see any other foreigners near my apartment; there is an older Korean lady who sets up her fruit stand near the entrance to the subway each day, selling a basket of apples for 3,000 won, and the wrinkled couple who have a little grill and sell fried meat on a stick to passerby. There is also what looks like a track around the subway station, where young people rollerskate and middle-aged women power walk near the water run-off that collects directly beneath the station (I have yet to see an actual park in Busan).
My room is little more than 4 white walls, a bed, and a stove but it gets good light and I'm lucky enough to have a small washing machine. Bathrooms in Korea are a curious thing: there is no tub or enclosed shower, just a shower head directly over the sink. You have to turn a knob - one direction and the sink turns on, the other direction and the shower head turns on (too many times I have forgotten to turn the knob as I went to wash my hands and had the shower soak me just as I was about to leave the house). I have to also remember to shelter the toilet paper to keep it from getting soggy, and re-locate any toiletries I want to keep from getting wet.
Most Koreans still sleep on a yo, or mat, so finding sheets in Korea has proved impossible (I am told I may be able to buy them on an American army base, but the price could be close to $100!) Luckily, I brought my REI sleeping bag shell, and have been sleeping inside that atop my bare (and extremely hard) mattress. Perhaps all my back problems will be solved after a few months here...
I am at the end of my 2nd week of teaching, which has been really fun. I have a fairly intense schedule, probably the most rigorous at my branch, with the most hours and a very wide variety of classes. I teach a 3-hour class at 4pm, which consists of elementary school kids, and then another 3-hour class at 7pm, with middle school kids. The elementary school kids are usually the most energetic and absorb the English language at a much faster rate - plus, they're adorable. Teaching is a highly respected profession in Korea (with such a huge emphasis on education) and students usually refer to me as "Teacher" - as a kind of title, I suppose. Only with their accents, it sounds more like "Tee-cha! Tee-cha!" as they attempt to get my attention.
One of the more bizarre aspects of my job, and Korea in general, is that we are constantly recorded. "Closed-Circuit TV," or CCTV, is installed absolutely EVERYWHERE in Korea and you are always being watched. I have a camera set up in the corner of my classroom, and my Head Instructor reviews my work on a weekly basis. I don't mind that too much, but the important thing to remember is that I'm always being recorded - which means private conversations with co-workers before class or phone conversations at your desk afterwards. When I explained to my students that we don't have that kind of surveillance (yet) in the States, they were shocked and baffled.
"But, but...what happens without CCTV?" my student Danny asked. This is the kid who informed me that he even has CCTV in his HOUSE. ("Who watches it?" I asked. "Your parents?" He seemed stumped. "I don't really know," he admitted).
Although there are only 3 other American teachers at my school, we have a half-dozen Korean staff as well. Monica, our receptionist, has become our fast friend and she is truly one of the most adorable girls I have ever met. She is always styled from head-to-toe: patent black ankle boots, colored tights, short dresses belted at the waist. Her English isn't quite conversational, but we somehow manage to communicate, mainly using her cell phone's dictionary. This has resulted in some hilarious translations...for example:
We are in a bar near PNU, and Jenna and I order a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea for the entire group. I pour her a glass, and she sips it tenatively. After 10 minutes, her drink sits untouched.
"Do you not like it?" I ask, pointing to her drink.
She looks confused.
"The drink," I say. "No good? You want different drink?"
She quickly pulls our her Chanel bag and reaches for the cell phone, punching a word into the dictionary.
"It's...." she begins, holding the phone's screen up to my face.
I read the text: "Poisonous, toxic, substance that can cause death," it says. Probably a pretty accurate description of a Long Island, actually!
My new apartment might actually be located at the same subway stop as Monica's, so I'm looking forward to hanging out with her more often. She has big goals to improve her English and visit the States, so spending time together will hopefully help her in those endeavors.
My life in the last 3 weeks has seemed anything but calm, much more bali, bali but it's been exciting and new and different, and those are always wonderful adjectives to describe life.
Although the lack of common courtesy (in my Western eyes, at least) can be frustrating at times, it seems to be the way Koreans have found so much success in recent years. They have the 13th largest economy in the world, and Seoul was just named the globe's 3rd most expensive city. This is a huge leap from the 1950s, when Korea was one of the poorest countries in Asia - nowadays, the technology boggles your mind...I can use my thumbprint to get into my office and people watch TV shows on their cell phones on the subway commute home. It's the most wired country in the world, and South Koreans have the world's 2nd highest IQ (after Hong Kong). However, they also work at least 12 hour days, scoff at holidays, and children attend school on Saturdays. I guess there's always a price to pay.
My life here is a bit more slow-paced, and I'm happy to say that I enjoy more than the 5 or 6 hours of sleep my elementary students get on a nightly basis. I'm still not completely settled in - there were a few problems with my housing (the first studio CDI showed me was tiny, dark and depressing) and I ended up spending 3 nights with my friend Jenna in her matchbox studio apartment, sharing a single bed. I'm now in a temporary apartment, if you can call it that. Like many Asian countries, space in Korea is tight, and my "room" is roughly 300 square feet or so. I live very close to the subway, down a series of back-alleys in what seems to be a very local neighborhood. I have yet to see any other foreigners near my apartment; there is an older Korean lady who sets up her fruit stand near the entrance to the subway each day, selling a basket of apples for 3,000 won, and the wrinkled couple who have a little grill and sell fried meat on a stick to passerby. There is also what looks like a track around the subway station, where young people rollerskate and middle-aged women power walk near the water run-off that collects directly beneath the station (I have yet to see an actual park in Busan).
My room is little more than 4 white walls, a bed, and a stove but it gets good light and I'm lucky enough to have a small washing machine. Bathrooms in Korea are a curious thing: there is no tub or enclosed shower, just a shower head directly over the sink. You have to turn a knob - one direction and the sink turns on, the other direction and the shower head turns on (too many times I have forgotten to turn the knob as I went to wash my hands and had the shower soak me just as I was about to leave the house). I have to also remember to shelter the toilet paper to keep it from getting soggy, and re-locate any toiletries I want to keep from getting wet.
Most Koreans still sleep on a yo, or mat, so finding sheets in Korea has proved impossible (I am told I may be able to buy them on an American army base, but the price could be close to $100!) Luckily, I brought my REI sleeping bag shell, and have been sleeping inside that atop my bare (and extremely hard) mattress. Perhaps all my back problems will be solved after a few months here...
I am at the end of my 2nd week of teaching, which has been really fun. I have a fairly intense schedule, probably the most rigorous at my branch, with the most hours and a very wide variety of classes. I teach a 3-hour class at 4pm, which consists of elementary school kids, and then another 3-hour class at 7pm, with middle school kids. The elementary school kids are usually the most energetic and absorb the English language at a much faster rate - plus, they're adorable. Teaching is a highly respected profession in Korea (with such a huge emphasis on education) and students usually refer to me as "Teacher" - as a kind of title, I suppose. Only with their accents, it sounds more like "Tee-cha! Tee-cha!" as they attempt to get my attention.
One of the more bizarre aspects of my job, and Korea in general, is that we are constantly recorded. "Closed-Circuit TV," or CCTV, is installed absolutely EVERYWHERE in Korea and you are always being watched. I have a camera set up in the corner of my classroom, and my Head Instructor reviews my work on a weekly basis. I don't mind that too much, but the important thing to remember is that I'm always being recorded - which means private conversations with co-workers before class or phone conversations at your desk afterwards. When I explained to my students that we don't have that kind of surveillance (yet) in the States, they were shocked and baffled.
"But, but...what happens without CCTV?" my student Danny asked. This is the kid who informed me that he even has CCTV in his HOUSE. ("Who watches it?" I asked. "Your parents?" He seemed stumped. "I don't really know," he admitted).
Although there are only 3 other American teachers at my school, we have a half-dozen Korean staff as well. Monica, our receptionist, has become our fast friend and she is truly one of the most adorable girls I have ever met. She is always styled from head-to-toe: patent black ankle boots, colored tights, short dresses belted at the waist. Her English isn't quite conversational, but we somehow manage to communicate, mainly using her cell phone's dictionary. This has resulted in some hilarious translations...for example:
We are in a bar near PNU, and Jenna and I order a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea for the entire group. I pour her a glass, and she sips it tenatively. After 10 minutes, her drink sits untouched.
"Do you not like it?" I ask, pointing to her drink.
She looks confused.
"The drink," I say. "No good? You want different drink?"
She quickly pulls our her Chanel bag and reaches for the cell phone, punching a word into the dictionary.
"It's...." she begins, holding the phone's screen up to my face.
I read the text: "Poisonous, toxic, substance that can cause death," it says. Probably a pretty accurate description of a Long Island, actually!
My new apartment might actually be located at the same subway stop as Monica's, so I'm looking forward to hanging out with her more often. She has big goals to improve her English and visit the States, so spending time together will hopefully help her in those endeavors.
My life in the last 3 weeks has seemed anything but calm, much more bali, bali but it's been exciting and new and different, and those are always wonderful adjectives to describe life.
I Got Seoul, but I'm Not a Soldier
So here I am, in ROK (that's Republic of Korea, for those of you who don't know). I arrived on Sunday, August 18th after a 13 hour flight (which really didn't bother me in the slightest - I promptly fell asleep upon sitting down, and didn't wake up until two hours before we touched down. Just in time for breakfast!) Came out of the terminal and was immediately disoriented and confused...I've never been to a place where I can't even recognize the symbols or letters of a language. I'm sure I looked just as confused as I felt, as was immediately approached by a Korean man offering a taxi. I knew, knew that I should turn him down, but was so tired and everything was in Korean and this man was promising me a swift ride to my hotel...so I followed him. Almost instantly knew I had made a mistake, when he lead me down some dark alley to his waiting car.
"How much is the taxi?" I asked.
"Meter," he replied. I breathed a sigh of relief. If the taxi is run on a meter, there's no way this guy can rip me off, I thought. Wrong again.
About five minutes into the taxi ride, the meter was already at 20,000 won (roughly $20). I started to panic a bit, as I knew the airport was nearly an hour from downtown Seoul, where I was staying.
"How much do you think this is going to be?" I asked him.
"Eh?" he replied.
"How much? Money? The whole ride?" I asked again.
"Meter," he said.
"Yes, I know meter. But THE WHOLE RIDE? HOW MUCH?"
"Kom somida gu sayo," is what his reply sounded like to my foreign ears.
When the meter hit 50,000 won I really started to freak out. Eventually, he seemed to understand why I was having a heart attack in his back seat.
"One hundred fifty thousand won," he said. "Maybe two hundred."
$150?! Maybe $200?! For a bleepin' taxi ride from the airport?! Using many hand signs and gestures, I tried to communicate with him that I only had 100,000 won in my wallet. That was about the point he started darting glances to the side of the road, and I worried he'd just drop me off in the middle of the freeway at 5 o'clock in the morning in a foreign city. Luckily, his black heart must have warmed slightly, because he said he'd do a service to his country and "only" charge me 100,000 won for the ride to the taxi. Many thanks, kind sir. How I made it through hitchhiking trips through southern Africa for 3 months but can't get a decent rate on a taxi from the airport in Seoul is beyond me. These traveling pants need to be dusted off, me thinks.
Needless to say, I was agitated when I arrived at my hotel in Seoul. I was staying with about 70 other teachers from CDI (Chung Dahm Institute) who would be going through training and orientation with me throughout the week. After which, we would travel to our respective CDI schools across Korea to begin teaching. We stayed in a really nice area of Seoul called Gangnam, which was bright and buzzing - a million restaurants and cafes and bars all stacked 100 stories high, neon lights blazing and hordes of Korean teenagers walking the streets in the latest Asian fashions (and some seriously high heels on the girls). Once it got light, I hit the pavement and went to my first Korean restaurant, where there were luckily pictures on the menu and I could just point at whatever looked appetizing.
Korean food is seriously spicy, and comes with at least half a dozen side dishes, including the Korean obsession - kimchi (pickled cabbage covered in spices). Like with everything, Koreans are also intense drinkers (you can't even begin to understand the saying "Work hard, play hard" until you've been to Korea). The beer houses and bars are absolutely everywhere, and getting trashed with your boss and co-workers on weekend nights (or any night, for that matter) is commonplace. Soju is the Korean equivalent to vodka, and the stuff is enough to put hair on your chest - they knock it back like there's no tomorrow. On the other end of the spectrum, there is an entire market dedicated to hangover cures - energy drinks, food, special tablets you can take to assist you in drinking MORE, etc.
I really lucked out with my accomodations in Seoul - where almost everyone else shared a hotel room with another teacher, I got a suite with 2 bedrooms and shared with 3 other girls - one girl from Seattle (yay!), another from Texas, and the third from Pittsburgh. We all immediately clicked, and spent the next week studying together, trying new foods, and complaining about our lack of sleep. Because sleep we did not - training was intense. We were divided into sections, and assigned various classes we would be trained in. I ended up in Memory English and Intensive Listening, both of which consist of a lot of memorization of passages from books, listening comprehension and vocabulary. I took classes for about 6 hours a day, and we were put through a vigorous string of tests - grammar, mock teaching, class structure. We were also shipped off to a Korean hospital one afternoon for drug testing, weight and heigh measurements, chest x-rays, blood testing and vision and hearing tests. I could hardly see straight by the end of the week. It may have been an insight into the life of Korean children though - if you aren't aware, Koreans are fiercely serious about education and kids here are subjected to about 15 hour days. They usually attend school from about 8am to 3pm, and then they spend the remainder of the day at "haegwons," or academies. I am teaching at an English haegwon, but the kids will also usually attend a science haegwon and a math haegwon, all of which run about 2-3 hours each. They get home around 10 or 11pm, eat dinner, and then study until 2am or so. Then wake up and do it all over again. Insanity, huh?
After our final tests on Friday, a group of about 20 of us got all dressed up, bought several bottles of soju and hit the town for our first experience of Korean nightlife. Things don't start until late here, around 1am, and people don't stumble home until the subway starts again at 6am. We went to a nightclub called Harlem, and had a great time. Saturday I packed up all my things and got on the bullet train to Busan, in the very south of the country. It's a city of about 3.5 million people on the coast and many people call it the "San Francisco of Korea." There are definitely similarities - it's a large port city, and the views of the water are really beautiful. The dialect is supposedly much harsher here than in Seoul, but my American ears cannot tell the difference.
I am living in the north-eastern part of Busan (the city is fairly spread out), near Pusan National University, or PNU. The area reminds me very much of the U-District in Seattle: slightly scruffy around the edges, with lots of bars and cafes, cheap restaurants and little boutiques. The only difference here is that most of the students are dressed to the nines, and certainly don't slum around in university sweatshirts and sweatpants (I'm going to have to step up my game while I'm here - Koreans are very aware of looks and appearances!)
I am going to be teaching at a new CDI branch a few subway stops from PNU with 3 other American teachers. And even after a week of arduous training, I know everything will be different once I actually step foot in the classroom...that's when the real adventure will begin!
"How much is the taxi?" I asked.
"Meter," he replied. I breathed a sigh of relief. If the taxi is run on a meter, there's no way this guy can rip me off, I thought. Wrong again.
About five minutes into the taxi ride, the meter was already at 20,000 won (roughly $20). I started to panic a bit, as I knew the airport was nearly an hour from downtown Seoul, where I was staying.
"How much do you think this is going to be?" I asked him.
"Eh?" he replied.
"How much? Money? The whole ride?" I asked again.
"Meter," he said.
"Yes, I know meter. But THE WHOLE RIDE? HOW MUCH?"
"Kom somida gu sayo," is what his reply sounded like to my foreign ears.
When the meter hit 50,000 won I really started to freak out. Eventually, he seemed to understand why I was having a heart attack in his back seat.
"One hundred fifty thousand won," he said. "Maybe two hundred."
$150?! Maybe $200?! For a bleepin' taxi ride from the airport?! Using many hand signs and gestures, I tried to communicate with him that I only had 100,000 won in my wallet. That was about the point he started darting glances to the side of the road, and I worried he'd just drop me off in the middle of the freeway at 5 o'clock in the morning in a foreign city. Luckily, his black heart must have warmed slightly, because he said he'd do a service to his country and "only" charge me 100,000 won for the ride to the taxi. Many thanks, kind sir. How I made it through hitchhiking trips through southern Africa for 3 months but can't get a decent rate on a taxi from the airport in Seoul is beyond me. These traveling pants need to be dusted off, me thinks.
Needless to say, I was agitated when I arrived at my hotel in Seoul. I was staying with about 70 other teachers from CDI (Chung Dahm Institute) who would be going through training and orientation with me throughout the week. After which, we would travel to our respective CDI schools across Korea to begin teaching. We stayed in a really nice area of Seoul called Gangnam, which was bright and buzzing - a million restaurants and cafes and bars all stacked 100 stories high, neon lights blazing and hordes of Korean teenagers walking the streets in the latest Asian fashions (and some seriously high heels on the girls). Once it got light, I hit the pavement and went to my first Korean restaurant, where there were luckily pictures on the menu and I could just point at whatever looked appetizing.
Korean food is seriously spicy, and comes with at least half a dozen side dishes, including the Korean obsession - kimchi (pickled cabbage covered in spices). Like with everything, Koreans are also intense drinkers (you can't even begin to understand the saying "Work hard, play hard" until you've been to Korea). The beer houses and bars are absolutely everywhere, and getting trashed with your boss and co-workers on weekend nights (or any night, for that matter) is commonplace. Soju is the Korean equivalent to vodka, and the stuff is enough to put hair on your chest - they knock it back like there's no tomorrow. On the other end of the spectrum, there is an entire market dedicated to hangover cures - energy drinks, food, special tablets you can take to assist you in drinking MORE, etc.
I really lucked out with my accomodations in Seoul - where almost everyone else shared a hotel room with another teacher, I got a suite with 2 bedrooms and shared with 3 other girls - one girl from Seattle (yay!), another from Texas, and the third from Pittsburgh. We all immediately clicked, and spent the next week studying together, trying new foods, and complaining about our lack of sleep. Because sleep we did not - training was intense. We were divided into sections, and assigned various classes we would be trained in. I ended up in Memory English and Intensive Listening, both of which consist of a lot of memorization of passages from books, listening comprehension and vocabulary. I took classes for about 6 hours a day, and we were put through a vigorous string of tests - grammar, mock teaching, class structure. We were also shipped off to a Korean hospital one afternoon for drug testing, weight and heigh measurements, chest x-rays, blood testing and vision and hearing tests. I could hardly see straight by the end of the week. It may have been an insight into the life of Korean children though - if you aren't aware, Koreans are fiercely serious about education and kids here are subjected to about 15 hour days. They usually attend school from about 8am to 3pm, and then they spend the remainder of the day at "haegwons," or academies. I am teaching at an English haegwon, but the kids will also usually attend a science haegwon and a math haegwon, all of which run about 2-3 hours each. They get home around 10 or 11pm, eat dinner, and then study until 2am or so. Then wake up and do it all over again. Insanity, huh?
After our final tests on Friday, a group of about 20 of us got all dressed up, bought several bottles of soju and hit the town for our first experience of Korean nightlife. Things don't start until late here, around 1am, and people don't stumble home until the subway starts again at 6am. We went to a nightclub called Harlem, and had a great time. Saturday I packed up all my things and got on the bullet train to Busan, in the very south of the country. It's a city of about 3.5 million people on the coast and many people call it the "San Francisco of Korea." There are definitely similarities - it's a large port city, and the views of the water are really beautiful. The dialect is supposedly much harsher here than in Seoul, but my American ears cannot tell the difference.
I am living in the north-eastern part of Busan (the city is fairly spread out), near Pusan National University, or PNU. The area reminds me very much of the U-District in Seattle: slightly scruffy around the edges, with lots of bars and cafes, cheap restaurants and little boutiques. The only difference here is that most of the students are dressed to the nines, and certainly don't slum around in university sweatshirts and sweatpants (I'm going to have to step up my game while I'm here - Koreans are very aware of looks and appearances!)
I am going to be teaching at a new CDI branch a few subway stops from PNU with 3 other American teachers. And even after a week of arduous training, I know everything will be different once I actually step foot in the classroom...that's when the real adventure will begin!
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