The other day, in class, I noticed two of my students arguing over cookies. It was Teacher's Day, and on that day many students will give their teachers flowers (carnations, I think) and gifts, candies, and so forth. So one student brought in a bag of chocolate chip cookies. He was kind enough to share with everyone, including me, the teacher (song saengnim). The dispute came when two of the students began to argue over who would get the biggest of two cookies. To settle the argument, they played "Rock, Paper, Scissors." I was astounded by this! For some reason, I assumed that this game was marginalized to kids (and some adults) in the States. I now know that this classic and mature way of dissolving a squabble is universal.
In Korea, the rules for Rock Paper Scissors are a touch different. For one, they don't say "rock, paper, scissors," but "cowee, powee, pul." Cowee stands for scissors, powee for rock, and bo for paper. Needless to say, I get confused when playing since the order is different from what I'm accustomed. Whereas we go rock, paper, scissors they say scissors, rock, paper.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Learning Hangul
My inability to communicate in Korean is frustrating at times. I often feel bewildered when I look at the buildings coated in advertisements, for I cannot read a word of Hangul. To find someone who wants to teach a foreigner Hangul is pretty rare, since most Koreans are eager to learn English. However, Jino has offered some help. My students also like teaching me their language. When I hold up a flashcard reading and displaying "rabbit," my students will often say, "Teacher, in Korean language, we say 'tokee.'" I'll repeat the word until I've got it down ( just like they do in English) but I'm so quick to forget the words I've learned. I really need to start writing them down to help me with memorization.
So here I've decided to jot down some of the words that I can recall from the tip of my brain. Of course they are going to be the "Englishized" versions and not the actual Hangul, since I have no handle on the Korean alphabet.
ne. anio. annyong haseyo. annyongee kasseyo. hanul. namoo. san. sa. saram hasseyo. mul. pul. tokee. apatu. tambae. kamsamneeda. ohma. ahpa. halmuney. harabojee. Hananeem. chingoo. hyongjay. chamay. chawng. ineeyun. sheehum. song saengnim. cheep. kookeeree. onesoongee. dowahjo. saja. sae. holangee. gome. yawnguh.
Wow. I thought I was going to be making a larger list. So much to learn...
So here I've decided to jot down some of the words that I can recall from the tip of my brain. Of course they are going to be the "Englishized" versions and not the actual Hangul, since I have no handle on the Korean alphabet.
ne. anio. annyong haseyo. annyongee kasseyo. hanul. namoo. san. sa. saram hasseyo. mul. pul. tokee. apatu. tambae. kamsamneeda. ohma. ahpa. halmuney. harabojee. Hananeem. chingoo. hyongjay. chamay. chawng. ineeyun. sheehum. song saengnim. cheep. kookeeree. onesoongee. dowahjo. saja. sae. holangee. gome. yawnguh.
Wow. I thought I was going to be making a larger list. So much to learn...
Gwangdeoksan
What we have here... is failure to communicate. Although my current Korean circumstances are far different from that of Cool Hand Luke's, misunderstandings and dissonant perspectives abound in both worlds.
The other day I was sitting atop a rock and pondering over all the changes I've gladly undertaken. I sit on this particular rock and think often. It's sort of my chilling pad in Cheonan. As I sat there, gazing and thinking over my surroundings, a businessman came up behind me and started speaking to me in Korean. I turned around and gave him a face like a blank sheet of paper. I shrugged my shoulders, saying "I don't understand, sorry." He stared at me a moment and I could practically see the cogs grinding in his head as he thought of how to communicate in another language, English. In his hand he grasped an invisible spoon and started pretending to eat with it. He paused a moment, our eyes locked, and he said
"Dahg. Dawhg."
Sometimes simple words and movements can convey so much. I knew then that eating dog was pretty common in Korea, but I had no idea which restaurants served our canine friends as food. Fortunately for this hungry Hanguksaram, another man strolled past and offered directions.
More recently, I had a communication breakdown with my friend Jino. His English speech and vocabulary is excellent. I rarely have any trouble understanding him and he me. Somehow, though, I heard that the mountain we were to climb was 6000 meters. On the way up to the trail, I asked Jino again the elevation of this mountain, Gwangdeoksan.
"Oh, 700 meters or so."
"What? I thought you said it was 6000?"
He laughed at my foolishness. "No way. Mount Everest is a little over 8000 meters. The highest mountain in Korea, Hallasan on Jeju Island, is about 2000 meters.
So I didn't ascend some sky scraping crag, but Gwangdeoksan was still steep ( at 2300 feet ), beautiful, and, at times, challenging.
Jino picked me up that morning very early. In a sleepy haze, I hurried to his car and forgot my camera. This troubled me at first, but I was reassured when Jino told me that he'd take some pictures. I hadn't even seen the mountain yet, but I knew I'd be back to hike it again since it's so close. The next time I wouldn't forget my camera.
We picked up one of Jino's friends and made our way to the mountain. I sat in the backseat. Jino's friend ( I never did catch his name ) reached behind him and handed me a clear plastic bag with a large lump of something inside. Not knowing what I was being handed, I took it with two hands ( Korean custom of respect and gratitude ) and said "konsamneeda." I peered into the bag a little cautiously. What I held looked like a big bundle of wax slugs stuck together to form a ball the size of a large grapefruit. I had no idea what I was looking at and holding. I thought I was supposed to eat it, so I tried to peel one of the wax slugs free. I couldn't get one loose because each strip was adhered to the whole so strongly. Not really knowing what to do and not wanting to seem ungrateful, I just slowly placed it beside me while trying not to crinkle the cellophane too loudly.
We arrived and began our climb. At the base of the mountain was this breathtaking Buddhist gate, brimming with vibrancy and ornate design. It must have stood at around fifty feet. I walked underneath it, my head fixed heavenward, peering over all the intricate patterns. My initial thought of revisiting Gwangdeoksan came flooding back to mind. There was no doubt then that I'd return to the mountain alone. I soon realized that I was glad to have forgotten my camera because I knew that I would want to pause and take dozens of pictures like some sight-seeing tourist. I figured that my company wanted to hike and enjoy the trails without any touristy delay.
I soon found that Jino's friend was a mountain goat. Although he was probably in his late 40's, he had great stamina and strength, climbing up the steep terrain with such grace and ease. It was a slight challenge for me to keep up with him, but I did fine. Jino, in fact, I noticed lagging behind me and the mountain goat a number of times. Not being an experienced climber, I didn't really know what to expect of a mountain with an elevation of 700 meters.
"Do you have medical insurance?" Jino translated for his friend.
Gulp. "I think so. I think I'm covered through the Korean government." Just how severe is this climb going to be? I started feeling a little worried. The mountain goat said something that I, of course, didn't understand. Jino pointed to the side of his stomach. "What do they call it when you have surgery here?"
"Oh, that's when you get your appendix removed. Appendicitis, I think"
"Yeah, you should probably have that taken out while you're here. It'll be much cheaper."
No doubt. As we hiked, we spoke of foreign policy and laughed and grumbled at America's health coverage.
The mountain felt fresh and lush, with dense wooding all about us. We walked by a few streams, slowly trickling into small pools of smooth stones submerged. We crossed one bubbling little brook, and I noticed that everyone stepped on different stones, although there were only a few to choose from. I began to pant and sweat as the path steadily increased its slope. I had to grab hold of tree trunks occasionally to steady myself. A few times I felt the need to look back and see what ground I had put behind me. Sometimes I was shocked to see just how steep the trek had been. Once I even felt gravity pull me back. I didn't lose my balance, thankfully, leaning forward and pushing myself to continue the climb.
It took us about an hour or two to reach the summit. There was a clearing spanning 30 yards or so. The view was incredible. Far, far down below we could make out buildings shrouded with the haze of distance. Encircling the summit were several other mountain ranges and many other peaks far off on the horizon. Fortunately, Jino's friend had a very professional looking camera. He snapped a few shots of Jino and me with other mountains in the background, towering above the land, making sharp peaks, and rolling up and down to form other ranges.
There, at the summit of Gwangdeoksan, was a man wearing a wide brimmed straw hat, kinda like an Asian style sombrero, and he had set up makeshift seats for parched travelers in need of rest. Jino bought us some rice wine, which drinking atop a mountain is a common Korean custom. It came in these brass bowls and was pretty nasty. It tasted neither like rice nor wine. I was thirsty, so I gulped down about half of my bowl but couldn't manage to swallow the rest. Jino explained that many foreigners dislike the taste and that I didn't have to force myself to consume it. I asked him if there are people selling rice wine at the top of many mountains in Korea. He chuckled. "No, this guy's famous - more so than the mayor of Cheonan." He explained that selling alcohol at the peak of any mountain is illegal. Many Koreans will bring their own rice wine along with them to drink when they've arrived at the top.
"So how does this guy get away with it?"
"Oh, the police give him fines sometimes, but they cannot climb the mountain everyday."
We laughed over the notion of police having to climb Gwangdeoksan every day in hopes of busting the lone rice wine vendor.
There were many trails leading up and down the mountain. Our mountain goat friend picked one and we set off after a short rest. The path down was just as beautiful as the path up. After trekking for about 10 minutes or so, Jino's buddy led us down a path less traveled. We began to do some serious trail blazing, but I felt fine. The mountain goat seemed to know his course. He led us to this very serene spot, where a huge boulder juts out over the mountain. The view was splendid. I felt as if I could see forever, well, as far as Japan maybe. I grasped hold of a tree and stood out on the boulder, my back to the great drop. He snapped my photo. I hope to get it sometime soon.
The descent was a bit sketchy, I must say. Since we decided to be trailblazers, there wasn't a convenient path with lots of stepping stones. Going down was more like snowboarding without a board than walking. The earth beneath our feet was loose and covered with cracked leaves, so we slid down most of the way, kicking up soil and leaving clouds of dust. I fell a few times, laughing and never hurt. Not once was there any serious danger, but I definitely had to exercise more caution about what steps to take and what branches to grab. This more challenging form of hiking was a blast, with it being more mentally and physically engaging.
Upon arriving at the bottom, we decided to check out the Buddhist temple. I definitely need to go back and snap some pictures of it. There were three or four huge temples in a square complex. A small field divided them in a courtyard of sorts. Crossing the field was a stone pathway which connected all the buildings. One of the temples had the biggest bell I've ever seen. It stood as tall as I and was as wide around as a big elevator shaft. I desperately wanted to strike it like a gong, but I refrained. In one of the temples were two Buddhists chanting some song in unison. One of them kept striking a wooden block for tempo. It was unlike anything I've heard before, somehow both discordant and harmonious. I know that's an oxymoron, but I don't really know how else to describe what I heard. I felt pretty tranquil after hearing it and coming down from a long hike.
We made our way home where Jino and I parted from the mountain goat. After showering, we were ready for a meal. We headed off to Jino's uncle's restaurant to chow down on some traditional Korean grub ( beef, rice, seaweed soup, and kimchi along with 20 side dishes ). Later on, we met up with two of Jino's friends, Emmy and Jerry. I had already met Emmy before - she's a teacher in Cheonan and her English skills are solid. I hadn't met Jerry since he lives in Seoul. His English was minimal, but I took a liking to him immediately. We all packed into Jino's Hyundai Tuscani and took off for the west coast, Changgohang to be exact, for some seafood on the sea.
"Do you eat raw fish?" Jerry asked me at the table.
"Yes, I like sushi," I managed. I wondered, "how raw are we talking about here?"
They ordered the food in a flurry of Korean. The four of us sat on an open porch, right on the sea. In view was an American battleship, a destroyer I think, docked right there in the harbor. Being out of service, it acted as a museum. Our side dishes came out with little delay. Everything was seafood and raw, from salmon and clams to octopus and squid. The food was all as fresh as imaginable, some still squirming. One platter was teeming with wiggling octopus tentacles. Another plate had these tiny pink blobs on it; they looked like little lungs, breathing in and out. Emmy warned me not to try them because of how nasty they taste. She went on to say that the little lungs are commonly eaten by men who think they improve virility. "Oh," I said. I took her advice seriously about the pink blobs, but I definitely wanted to dig into some squiggling octopi tentacle action.
And so I did. It took me a moment to pick up an octopi leg with my chopstick because some of the tentacles had stuck to the bottom of the plate. Eventually, I nabbed one, dipped it into my spicy sauce and, with bravery and curiosity, popped it into my mouth. I've heard that some folks choke on this food because some tentacles will become attached to the esophagus, so I chewed heartily before swallowing. The taste...delectable! It was all very scrumptious. I ate my share. What I was eating, however, isn't actually standard octopus, but some small creature of the same family. I haven't been able to find out its exact name just yet. Later on in the meal, I did try real octopus legs. They tasted similar but were much larger and much chewier. The main course was an enormous platter of raw fish. I liked it, but felt the octopus was better. The third dish was a soup that was cooked right before us on a little portable stove. It had chunks of fish in it. The soup was spicy and warming, which was comforting while being outside in the chilly sea breeze.
I started talking with Jerry some more. Apparently, he's a businessman of sorts in Seoul. He told me that he wants to show me around the city. I asked him when he was free. "Anytime. I make my own schedule." I guess he has some power and some won to chuck around, unlike me - practically penniless and adhering to my school schedule each day. I've been so happy to make all these Korean friends. Not once have I felt the oppression of xenophobia. All my newfound friends have been so kind, generous, and helpful to me in my period of adjustment. It's very refreshing to know folks like this and so different from the hostility I've felt in the States. Jerry gave me his business card and told me to call him up anytime I can make it Seoul. I think I'll take him up on his offer pretty soon, probably within the next few weeks. I definitely have it listed on my Korean agenda to go Seoul trekking.
http://www.kormt.co.kr/chgwngdk2tx.html
The other day I was sitting atop a rock and pondering over all the changes I've gladly undertaken. I sit on this particular rock and think often. It's sort of my chilling pad in Cheonan. As I sat there, gazing and thinking over my surroundings, a businessman came up behind me and started speaking to me in Korean. I turned around and gave him a face like a blank sheet of paper. I shrugged my shoulders, saying "I don't understand, sorry." He stared at me a moment and I could practically see the cogs grinding in his head as he thought of how to communicate in another language, English. In his hand he grasped an invisible spoon and started pretending to eat with it. He paused a moment, our eyes locked, and he said
"Dahg. Dawhg."
Sometimes simple words and movements can convey so much. I knew then that eating dog was pretty common in Korea, but I had no idea which restaurants served our canine friends as food. Fortunately for this hungry Hanguksaram, another man strolled past and offered directions.
More recently, I had a communication breakdown with my friend Jino. His English speech and vocabulary is excellent. I rarely have any trouble understanding him and he me. Somehow, though, I heard that the mountain we were to climb was 6000 meters. On the way up to the trail, I asked Jino again the elevation of this mountain, Gwangdeoksan.
"Oh, 700 meters or so."
"What? I thought you said it was 6000?"
He laughed at my foolishness. "No way. Mount Everest is a little over 8000 meters. The highest mountain in Korea, Hallasan on Jeju Island, is about 2000 meters.
So I didn't ascend some sky scraping crag, but Gwangdeoksan was still steep ( at 2300 feet ), beautiful, and, at times, challenging.
Jino picked me up that morning very early. In a sleepy haze, I hurried to his car and forgot my camera. This troubled me at first, but I was reassured when Jino told me that he'd take some pictures. I hadn't even seen the mountain yet, but I knew I'd be back to hike it again since it's so close. The next time I wouldn't forget my camera.
We picked up one of Jino's friends and made our way to the mountain. I sat in the backseat. Jino's friend ( I never did catch his name ) reached behind him and handed me a clear plastic bag with a large lump of something inside. Not knowing what I was being handed, I took it with two hands ( Korean custom of respect and gratitude ) and said "konsamneeda." I peered into the bag a little cautiously. What I held looked like a big bundle of wax slugs stuck together to form a ball the size of a large grapefruit. I had no idea what I was looking at and holding. I thought I was supposed to eat it, so I tried to peel one of the wax slugs free. I couldn't get one loose because each strip was adhered to the whole so strongly. Not really knowing what to do and not wanting to seem ungrateful, I just slowly placed it beside me while trying not to crinkle the cellophane too loudly.
We arrived and began our climb. At the base of the mountain was this breathtaking Buddhist gate, brimming with vibrancy and ornate design. It must have stood at around fifty feet. I walked underneath it, my head fixed heavenward, peering over all the intricate patterns. My initial thought of revisiting Gwangdeoksan came flooding back to mind. There was no doubt then that I'd return to the mountain alone. I soon realized that I was glad to have forgotten my camera because I knew that I would want to pause and take dozens of pictures like some sight-seeing tourist. I figured that my company wanted to hike and enjoy the trails without any touristy delay.
I soon found that Jino's friend was a mountain goat. Although he was probably in his late 40's, he had great stamina and strength, climbing up the steep terrain with such grace and ease. It was a slight challenge for me to keep up with him, but I did fine. Jino, in fact, I noticed lagging behind me and the mountain goat a number of times. Not being an experienced climber, I didn't really know what to expect of a mountain with an elevation of 700 meters.
"Do you have medical insurance?" Jino translated for his friend.
Gulp. "I think so. I think I'm covered through the Korean government." Just how severe is this climb going to be? I started feeling a little worried. The mountain goat said something that I, of course, didn't understand. Jino pointed to the side of his stomach. "What do they call it when you have surgery here?"
"Oh, that's when you get your appendix removed. Appendicitis, I think"
"Yeah, you should probably have that taken out while you're here. It'll be much cheaper."
No doubt. As we hiked, we spoke of foreign policy and laughed and grumbled at America's health coverage.
The mountain felt fresh and lush, with dense wooding all about us. We walked by a few streams, slowly trickling into small pools of smooth stones submerged. We crossed one bubbling little brook, and I noticed that everyone stepped on different stones, although there were only a few to choose from. I began to pant and sweat as the path steadily increased its slope. I had to grab hold of tree trunks occasionally to steady myself. A few times I felt the need to look back and see what ground I had put behind me. Sometimes I was shocked to see just how steep the trek had been. Once I even felt gravity pull me back. I didn't lose my balance, thankfully, leaning forward and pushing myself to continue the climb.
It took us about an hour or two to reach the summit. There was a clearing spanning 30 yards or so. The view was incredible. Far, far down below we could make out buildings shrouded with the haze of distance. Encircling the summit were several other mountain ranges and many other peaks far off on the horizon. Fortunately, Jino's friend had a very professional looking camera. He snapped a few shots of Jino and me with other mountains in the background, towering above the land, making sharp peaks, and rolling up and down to form other ranges.
There, at the summit of Gwangdeoksan, was a man wearing a wide brimmed straw hat, kinda like an Asian style sombrero, and he had set up makeshift seats for parched travelers in need of rest. Jino bought us some rice wine, which drinking atop a mountain is a common Korean custom. It came in these brass bowls and was pretty nasty. It tasted neither like rice nor wine. I was thirsty, so I gulped down about half of my bowl but couldn't manage to swallow the rest. Jino explained that many foreigners dislike the taste and that I didn't have to force myself to consume it. I asked him if there are people selling rice wine at the top of many mountains in Korea. He chuckled. "No, this guy's famous - more so than the mayor of Cheonan." He explained that selling alcohol at the peak of any mountain is illegal. Many Koreans will bring their own rice wine along with them to drink when they've arrived at the top.
"So how does this guy get away with it?"
"Oh, the police give him fines sometimes, but they cannot climb the mountain everyday."
We laughed over the notion of police having to climb Gwangdeoksan every day in hopes of busting the lone rice wine vendor.
There were many trails leading up and down the mountain. Our mountain goat friend picked one and we set off after a short rest. The path down was just as beautiful as the path up. After trekking for about 10 minutes or so, Jino's buddy led us down a path less traveled. We began to do some serious trail blazing, but I felt fine. The mountain goat seemed to know his course. He led us to this very serene spot, where a huge boulder juts out over the mountain. The view was splendid. I felt as if I could see forever, well, as far as Japan maybe. I grasped hold of a tree and stood out on the boulder, my back to the great drop. He snapped my photo. I hope to get it sometime soon.
The descent was a bit sketchy, I must say. Since we decided to be trailblazers, there wasn't a convenient path with lots of stepping stones. Going down was more like snowboarding without a board than walking. The earth beneath our feet was loose and covered with cracked leaves, so we slid down most of the way, kicking up soil and leaving clouds of dust. I fell a few times, laughing and never hurt. Not once was there any serious danger, but I definitely had to exercise more caution about what steps to take and what branches to grab. This more challenging form of hiking was a blast, with it being more mentally and physically engaging.
Upon arriving at the bottom, we decided to check out the Buddhist temple. I definitely need to go back and snap some pictures of it. There were three or four huge temples in a square complex. A small field divided them in a courtyard of sorts. Crossing the field was a stone pathway which connected all the buildings. One of the temples had the biggest bell I've ever seen. It stood as tall as I and was as wide around as a big elevator shaft. I desperately wanted to strike it like a gong, but I refrained. In one of the temples were two Buddhists chanting some song in unison. One of them kept striking a wooden block for tempo. It was unlike anything I've heard before, somehow both discordant and harmonious. I know that's an oxymoron, but I don't really know how else to describe what I heard. I felt pretty tranquil after hearing it and coming down from a long hike.
We made our way home where Jino and I parted from the mountain goat. After showering, we were ready for a meal. We headed off to Jino's uncle's restaurant to chow down on some traditional Korean grub ( beef, rice, seaweed soup, and kimchi along with 20 side dishes ). Later on, we met up with two of Jino's friends, Emmy and Jerry. I had already met Emmy before - she's a teacher in Cheonan and her English skills are solid. I hadn't met Jerry since he lives in Seoul. His English was minimal, but I took a liking to him immediately. We all packed into Jino's Hyundai Tuscani and took off for the west coast, Changgohang to be exact, for some seafood on the sea.
"Do you eat raw fish?" Jerry asked me at the table.
"Yes, I like sushi," I managed. I wondered, "how raw are we talking about here?"
They ordered the food in a flurry of Korean. The four of us sat on an open porch, right on the sea. In view was an American battleship, a destroyer I think, docked right there in the harbor. Being out of service, it acted as a museum. Our side dishes came out with little delay. Everything was seafood and raw, from salmon and clams to octopus and squid. The food was all as fresh as imaginable, some still squirming. One platter was teeming with wiggling octopus tentacles. Another plate had these tiny pink blobs on it; they looked like little lungs, breathing in and out. Emmy warned me not to try them because of how nasty they taste. She went on to say that the little lungs are commonly eaten by men who think they improve virility. "Oh," I said. I took her advice seriously about the pink blobs, but I definitely wanted to dig into some squiggling octopi tentacle action.
And so I did. It took me a moment to pick up an octopi leg with my chopstick because some of the tentacles had stuck to the bottom of the plate. Eventually, I nabbed one, dipped it into my spicy sauce and, with bravery and curiosity, popped it into my mouth. I've heard that some folks choke on this food because some tentacles will become attached to the esophagus, so I chewed heartily before swallowing. The taste...delectable! It was all very scrumptious. I ate my share. What I was eating, however, isn't actually standard octopus, but some small creature of the same family. I haven't been able to find out its exact name just yet. Later on in the meal, I did try real octopus legs. They tasted similar but were much larger and much chewier. The main course was an enormous platter of raw fish. I liked it, but felt the octopus was better. The third dish was a soup that was cooked right before us on a little portable stove. It had chunks of fish in it. The soup was spicy and warming, which was comforting while being outside in the chilly sea breeze.
I started talking with Jerry some more. Apparently, he's a businessman of sorts in Seoul. He told me that he wants to show me around the city. I asked him when he was free. "Anytime. I make my own schedule." I guess he has some power and some won to chuck around, unlike me - practically penniless and adhering to my school schedule each day. I've been so happy to make all these Korean friends. Not once have I felt the oppression of xenophobia. All my newfound friends have been so kind, generous, and helpful to me in my period of adjustment. It's very refreshing to know folks like this and so different from the hostility I've felt in the States. Jerry gave me his business card and told me to call him up anytime I can make it Seoul. I think I'll take him up on his offer pretty soon, probably within the next few weeks. I definitely have it listed on my Korean agenda to go Seoul trekking.
http://www.kormt.co.kr/chgwngdk2tx.html
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Yellow Haze
My brother left a comment on my first post, and I decided to send a quick response. For those of you who know me, I can either be really long winded or very tight lipped. Well, in this case, my quick reply morphed into something lengthy enough to post.
Here's his comment:
"Are you sure you got on the right plane? It sounds like you landed in Russia. My whole perception of Korea is blown now. I only saw the "clean and orderly" Korea."
Clean and orderly Korea? Really? Well, I can see orderly in the business sense. Many Koreans take their jobs very seriously, so work is a strict and orderly routine. In fact, I learned from the news the other day that Koreans work more hours per week than any other nation. A typical Korean will easily work 60 hours per week. I also learned that Korea has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. I wonder if these two statistics are related....
As far as cleanliness is concerned, Cheonan is pretty clean. I haven't really noticed any air pollution aside from one encounter with the Yellow Dust. I was hiking up in mountains where the forest is dense, verdant, and lush. The atmosphere changed; the temperature dropped and the wind grew very gusty. I then noticed the Yellow Dust for the first time. It had collected on all the leaves of the trees and when the boughs bent and the branches swayed, the dust poured out towards the ground, but got caught in the breeze and swirled about. The dust was so thick that everything looked as if shrouded by a yellowy green fog. I got caught in the haze. Visibility dropped tremendously, the umbrage being cast underneath the canopy was darkened by this fine yellow powder that had taken to the air. I covered my mouth and nose with a turquoise handkerchief that, capriciously and conveniently, I had with me. I continued hiking. Shortly afterwards, the wind was calmed and the dust settled. I haven't noticed any air pollution since aside from cigarette smoke. It seems like 90% of Korean men are chain smokers. I've seen at least five smoking men walk by window as I've typed this.
Another interesting thing about cleanliness and Korea is that EVERYTHING is recycled. There are separate bins for plastic bottles, aluminum cans, and glass materials (like America, only more people here seem to participate). There are separate garbage bins for food, too. So, when I'm done eating my kimchi and rice for lunch at school, I get in line to place my chopsticks in the chopstick bin, my spoon in the spoon bin, my bowl in the bowl bin, and my leftover food in the, well, leftover food bin. Outside of every restaurant (which are basically ubiquitous), are yellow garbage bins. These yellow bins are designated for food. Although Koreans seem to strongly adhere to recycling rules, there seems to be no shortage of litter lining the streets. Wrappers are scattered about everywhere, mostly collecting in sidewalk gutters.
Everything considered, I don't think Korea is any more polluted than the states. I've seen both nasty and nice parts in America. Crystal Lake was clean whereas Milwaukee seemed in need of quarantine.
Here's his comment:
"Are you sure you got on the right plane? It sounds like you landed in Russia. My whole perception of Korea is blown now. I only saw the "clean and orderly" Korea."
Clean and orderly Korea? Really? Well, I can see orderly in the business sense. Many Koreans take their jobs very seriously, so work is a strict and orderly routine. In fact, I learned from the news the other day that Koreans work more hours per week than any other nation. A typical Korean will easily work 60 hours per week. I also learned that Korea has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. I wonder if these two statistics are related....
As far as cleanliness is concerned, Cheonan is pretty clean. I haven't really noticed any air pollution aside from one encounter with the Yellow Dust. I was hiking up in mountains where the forest is dense, verdant, and lush. The atmosphere changed; the temperature dropped and the wind grew very gusty. I then noticed the Yellow Dust for the first time. It had collected on all the leaves of the trees and when the boughs bent and the branches swayed, the dust poured out towards the ground, but got caught in the breeze and swirled about. The dust was so thick that everything looked as if shrouded by a yellowy green fog. I got caught in the haze. Visibility dropped tremendously, the umbrage being cast underneath the canopy was darkened by this fine yellow powder that had taken to the air. I covered my mouth and nose with a turquoise handkerchief that, capriciously and conveniently, I had with me. I continued hiking. Shortly afterwards, the wind was calmed and the dust settled. I haven't noticed any air pollution since aside from cigarette smoke. It seems like 90% of Korean men are chain smokers. I've seen at least five smoking men walk by window as I've typed this.
Another interesting thing about cleanliness and Korea is that EVERYTHING is recycled. There are separate bins for plastic bottles, aluminum cans, and glass materials (like America, only more people here seem to participate). There are separate garbage bins for food, too. So, when I'm done eating my kimchi and rice for lunch at school, I get in line to place my chopsticks in the chopstick bin, my spoon in the spoon bin, my bowl in the bowl bin, and my leftover food in the, well, leftover food bin. Outside of every restaurant (which are basically ubiquitous), are yellow garbage bins. These yellow bins are designated for food. Although Koreans seem to strongly adhere to recycling rules, there seems to be no shortage of litter lining the streets. Wrappers are scattered about everywhere, mostly collecting in sidewalk gutters.
Everything considered, I don't think Korea is any more polluted than the states. I've seen both nasty and nice parts in America. Crystal Lake was clean whereas Milwaukee seemed in need of quarantine.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Buddha's Birthday; Cheonan Love
Today is Buddha’s birthday, and I have the day off from school. Hence, some spare time to blog.
The next thing I fell in love with is the fact that Cheonan has absolutely NO crime. This is such a nice change from living in Memphis the past few months, where the news is always about murders, shootings, rapings, robberies, etc.. It’s all so disheartening. Since I’ve been here, I haven’t overheard one argument, I haven’t seen a single fight, and I haven’t heard of or seen any violence in the news (what has been huge in the news is how America sold a bunch of sketchy, 30 month old beef to South Korea). The atmosphere in Cheonan is very mellow as far as crime is concerned. Sure, it’s a pretty busy and bustling city, but I’ve never once felt afraid or uncomfortable or unsafe - even late at night. In fact, it's very common here to see kids running around at night, laughing, playing, and cavorting about. I’ve often seen pairs or trios of little boys sauntering down the street, arms linked and eyes bright. Young girls will often do the same. It’s not that they hold hands because they are afraid or feel insecure. They hold hands because they are friends who cherish one another.
What’s also great, and at times strange to my Western eyes, is seeing pairs of grown men strolling down the street with arms linked and holding onto one another, usually for support during a hazy soju journey, but also because they are close friends. In America, I feel our xenophobic and homophobic minds wouldn’t tolerate such companionship. Most would judge instantly and negatively instead of seeing such actions as mature and sincere ways of showing affection.
Whole families are commonly seen together, more so than in the States. A number of times I’ve seen grandparents, grandsons and daughters, fathers and mothers all walking and talking together. The familial bonds seem tighter here, as grandparents often live at home with their children instead of being sent away to retirement homes. These strong family relations can also be noted within teenagers. In the States, a teen often feels awkward, embarrassed or resentful about being in public with his or her folks. I can remember doing my share of grumbling. This doesn’t seem to be true here, from what I’ve observed. It’s common to see lots of teens and their parents or grandparents together, happy and unashamed as they share a meal or ice cream.
Other things I love about South Korea and Cheonan:
Gardens are everywhere. Koreans put their space and land to good use. There are many little plots of land nestled between buildings and parking lots, and instead of letting them be vacant, Koreans have planted gardens. I’m not exactly sure what they are growing in most of these bits of land, but I think it must be some sort of vegetable.
Orange Grapefruit Gatorade - I’m not sure if this drink has hit the States or not, but it’s amazing.
Old ladies hawking loogies with no timidity. I guess it’s not bad etiquette for ladies to clear their throats and spit. I also like how old ladies walk around with these dainty, oftentimes pastel colored umbrellas to shield them from too much sun.
How Cheonan has the perfect blend of city, suburb, and rural atmospheres. Downtown’s full of flare and blinking lights. My neighborhood is quiet and subdued with slow traffic, lots of little shops and restaurants, and numerous bike paths. Hiking trails and access to mountains is only a 15 minute walk away from home.
I love how eager Koreans are to learn and how much they value knowledge and sound information. Many of the Korean teachers at my school speak remarkably good English. I always have to ask them if they’ve lived in the States or Canada. None of the teachers I’ve spoken with have traveled to an English speaking land, let alone live there. So, I have to prod. “Where did you learn English?” They usually reply with, “Oh, in college” or “at the Hagwon.” ( a small, privately owned, academy or institution - oftentimes for furthering English skills ). I find it absolutely incredible how well I am able to communicate with many Koreans. I chatted with my friend Jino the other day about mad cow disease, the war in Iraq, and all sorts of other heavy topics. I never once felt like I had to slow down or simplify my language - he grasped it all just as any native English speaker would.
Korean food. There are over 100 different types of kimchi, and the ones I’ve tried have been delectable. It’s hard to describe the flavor. The most common kimchi ( at least the kind I’ve been served several times ) has a very bold and zesty taste, almost like a salad with lots of Italian dressing, only really spicy. My mouth salivates while eating it. I’ve also had the opportunity to dine out with some Korean friends. I was too afraid to eat out alone since the customs are vastly different from what I’m accustomed. I was also fearful of what and how to order, with my lack of Hangul and all. So a guide was necessary for me.
No, I haven’t tried any squid or octopus just yet, but it’s definitely on the agenda. The tables in Korean restaurants are very low to the ground. You put these little pads on the ground and sit on them Indian style ( my feet go numb after a while, so I always have to stretch out ). There are usually one or two main courses in Korean cuisine, with lots and lots of side dishes. The first time I ate out, Tim and I had strips of pork as our main course. A large platter holding the pork was placed between us. A little bowl of rice was given to both of us as well. The rest of the side dishes were placed all around so one may pick and choose what he likes. Every side dish is fair game; it’s not like there were two of each dish - one for Tim and one for me, but we shared everything. I wasn’t really sure of what some of the side dishes were, but I do remember there being garlic, anchovies, shrimp, kimchi, mackerel, peanuts, soup, potatoes, and probably 7 or 8 more dishes of various vegetables. On another Korean food outing, we sat cross legged underneath a low lying table with a grill in the middle. Strips of beef were placed on the grill, sizzling and sauteeing right before us while we sipped our soju in true Korean fashion.
Kwailchon Plum Juice - I was walking around my neighborhood a week ago or so, and I heard a familiar clicking sound drifting out of a second story window. Pool balls were striking one another. Feeling I was up for some 8 ball, I decided to check it out. The pool hall was above a restaurant, so it smelled like cigarettes and kimchi. There were a dozen pool tables, but only one had pockets for 8 or 9 ball. I forget exactly the name of the game played without pockets, but it’s far more common in Korea than 8 ball, which was fortunate for me - I didn’t have to wait to use the pocketed table since no one was using it. As I played, the owner brought me some complimentary drinks. One said “yogurt” on the side was like a fruit smoothie. The other was a drink poured into a generic cup, so there were no labels to tell me what I was about to drink. I was a little timid about drinking some mystery liquid, so I sipped it slowly. I can say with all sincerity that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a better tasting juice. I’ve only been here for about 12 days. I probably didn’t even find the pool hall until maybe my 4th day. So in 8 days I’ve consumed about 6 liters of the stuff - and that’s with undergoing serious, willpower bending restraint. I haven’t been back to play pool, but I’ve been back three times to buy a 2 liter bottle of the juice - Kwalichon Plum Juice. I can’t find it anywhere else either, so I’m glad that the pool hall has a steady supply and is only a block away from home. Fortunately, it only costs about 2000 won and the word for juice in Korean is pronounced “juice ah,” so the owner always knows what I want. What’s strange is that it doesn’t taste much like plums, but more like a cross between apple and pear juice. It’s thick and sweet like some divine nectar, and I think I’m going to go through withdrawals when I come home.
And I love my students the most, but I’ll write all about my teaching experiences next time.
Con todo paz y tranquilidad,
patrick
The next thing I fell in love with is the fact that Cheonan has absolutely NO crime. This is such a nice change from living in Memphis the past few months, where the news is always about murders, shootings, rapings, robberies, etc.. It’s all so disheartening. Since I’ve been here, I haven’t overheard one argument, I haven’t seen a single fight, and I haven’t heard of or seen any violence in the news (what has been huge in the news is how America sold a bunch of sketchy, 30 month old beef to South Korea). The atmosphere in Cheonan is very mellow as far as crime is concerned. Sure, it’s a pretty busy and bustling city, but I’ve never once felt afraid or uncomfortable or unsafe - even late at night. In fact, it's very common here to see kids running around at night, laughing, playing, and cavorting about. I’ve often seen pairs or trios of little boys sauntering down the street, arms linked and eyes bright. Young girls will often do the same. It’s not that they hold hands because they are afraid or feel insecure. They hold hands because they are friends who cherish one another.
What’s also great, and at times strange to my Western eyes, is seeing pairs of grown men strolling down the street with arms linked and holding onto one another, usually for support during a hazy soju journey, but also because they are close friends. In America, I feel our xenophobic and homophobic minds wouldn’t tolerate such companionship. Most would judge instantly and negatively instead of seeing such actions as mature and sincere ways of showing affection.
Whole families are commonly seen together, more so than in the States. A number of times I’ve seen grandparents, grandsons and daughters, fathers and mothers all walking and talking together. The familial bonds seem tighter here, as grandparents often live at home with their children instead of being sent away to retirement homes. These strong family relations can also be noted within teenagers. In the States, a teen often feels awkward, embarrassed or resentful about being in public with his or her folks. I can remember doing my share of grumbling. This doesn’t seem to be true here, from what I’ve observed. It’s common to see lots of teens and their parents or grandparents together, happy and unashamed as they share a meal or ice cream.
Other things I love about South Korea and Cheonan:
Gardens are everywhere. Koreans put their space and land to good use. There are many little plots of land nestled between buildings and parking lots, and instead of letting them be vacant, Koreans have planted gardens. I’m not exactly sure what they are growing in most of these bits of land, but I think it must be some sort of vegetable.
Orange Grapefruit Gatorade - I’m not sure if this drink has hit the States or not, but it’s amazing.
Old ladies hawking loogies with no timidity. I guess it’s not bad etiquette for ladies to clear their throats and spit. I also like how old ladies walk around with these dainty, oftentimes pastel colored umbrellas to shield them from too much sun.
How Cheonan has the perfect blend of city, suburb, and rural atmospheres. Downtown’s full of flare and blinking lights. My neighborhood is quiet and subdued with slow traffic, lots of little shops and restaurants, and numerous bike paths. Hiking trails and access to mountains is only a 15 minute walk away from home.
I love how eager Koreans are to learn and how much they value knowledge and sound information. Many of the Korean teachers at my school speak remarkably good English. I always have to ask them if they’ve lived in the States or Canada. None of the teachers I’ve spoken with have traveled to an English speaking land, let alone live there. So, I have to prod. “Where did you learn English?” They usually reply with, “Oh, in college” or “at the Hagwon.” ( a small, privately owned, academy or institution - oftentimes for furthering English skills ). I find it absolutely incredible how well I am able to communicate with many Koreans. I chatted with my friend Jino the other day about mad cow disease, the war in Iraq, and all sorts of other heavy topics. I never once felt like I had to slow down or simplify my language - he grasped it all just as any native English speaker would.
Korean food. There are over 100 different types of kimchi, and the ones I’ve tried have been delectable. It’s hard to describe the flavor. The most common kimchi ( at least the kind I’ve been served several times ) has a very bold and zesty taste, almost like a salad with lots of Italian dressing, only really spicy. My mouth salivates while eating it. I’ve also had the opportunity to dine out with some Korean friends. I was too afraid to eat out alone since the customs are vastly different from what I’m accustomed. I was also fearful of what and how to order, with my lack of Hangul and all. So a guide was necessary for me.
No, I haven’t tried any squid or octopus just yet, but it’s definitely on the agenda. The tables in Korean restaurants are very low to the ground. You put these little pads on the ground and sit on them Indian style ( my feet go numb after a while, so I always have to stretch out ). There are usually one or two main courses in Korean cuisine, with lots and lots of side dishes. The first time I ate out, Tim and I had strips of pork as our main course. A large platter holding the pork was placed between us. A little bowl of rice was given to both of us as well. The rest of the side dishes were placed all around so one may pick and choose what he likes. Every side dish is fair game; it’s not like there were two of each dish - one for Tim and one for me, but we shared everything. I wasn’t really sure of what some of the side dishes were, but I do remember there being garlic, anchovies, shrimp, kimchi, mackerel, peanuts, soup, potatoes, and probably 7 or 8 more dishes of various vegetables. On another Korean food outing, we sat cross legged underneath a low lying table with a grill in the middle. Strips of beef were placed on the grill, sizzling and sauteeing right before us while we sipped our soju in true Korean fashion.
Kwailchon Plum Juice - I was walking around my neighborhood a week ago or so, and I heard a familiar clicking sound drifting out of a second story window. Pool balls were striking one another. Feeling I was up for some 8 ball, I decided to check it out. The pool hall was above a restaurant, so it smelled like cigarettes and kimchi. There were a dozen pool tables, but only one had pockets for 8 or 9 ball. I forget exactly the name of the game played without pockets, but it’s far more common in Korea than 8 ball, which was fortunate for me - I didn’t have to wait to use the pocketed table since no one was using it. As I played, the owner brought me some complimentary drinks. One said “yogurt” on the side was like a fruit smoothie. The other was a drink poured into a generic cup, so there were no labels to tell me what I was about to drink. I was a little timid about drinking some mystery liquid, so I sipped it slowly. I can say with all sincerity that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a better tasting juice. I’ve only been here for about 12 days. I probably didn’t even find the pool hall until maybe my 4th day. So in 8 days I’ve consumed about 6 liters of the stuff - and that’s with undergoing serious, willpower bending restraint. I haven’t been back to play pool, but I’ve been back three times to buy a 2 liter bottle of the juice - Kwalichon Plum Juice. I can’t find it anywhere else either, so I’m glad that the pool hall has a steady supply and is only a block away from home. Fortunately, it only costs about 2000 won and the word for juice in Korean is pronounced “juice ah,” so the owner always knows what I want. What’s strange is that it doesn’t taste much like plums, but more like a cross between apple and pear juice. It’s thick and sweet like some divine nectar, and I think I’m going to go through withdrawals when I come home.
And I love my students the most, but I’ll write all about my teaching experiences next time.
Con todo paz y tranquilidad,
patrick
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Welcome to Korea - Initial Reactions and Musings
I had been dreaming about South Korea and what my adventures would be like here since November, roughly 5 months. I thought I had a handle on it. In America, my visions of this land became so strong, so detailed, that I thought I knew exactly what to expect. My dreams of the Land of the Morning Calm became so extensive that they almost became tangible, solidifying from illusions to reality, and from reality to memories of the past. Dreaming for so long, it felt as if I had already gone, trekked the land, met and adored the kids, and returned home to the states to tell all about my adventures. Of course these notions dissipated in a flash as I got the green signal from the Korean government. The "memories" of what I hadn't experienced vanished. The enticing and, at times, seemingly daunting future of a year (or more) in Korea became very, very unknown. My future was shrouded once again, but I was eager to go and learn new customs, cultures, alphabets, and forms of speech.
The Korean government looked over my documents - the proof that I had graduated from college, my passport, letters of recommendation, transcript, identification photos, criminal background check with apostille from Tennessee, and my certification for being an educator - and after many weeks of waiting I was given an approval number and an interview date with the Korean consulate in Atlanta. From there, I would get a one year work visa placed in my passport to make me a legitimate, but temporary, citizen of South Korea. My interview with the consul went very smoothly. He said, "I see no reason why you should not go to Korea."
And so I went. The flight was epically long, 15 hours or so. A friend who had experienced a similar flight (to Japan) gave me the great advice of buying some sleeping pills before departure. To this advice I did not adhere and spent many hours reading and listening to my mp3 player, wide awake. It wasn't so bad. I stretched often, ambling about the cabin. I managed to doze off a dozen times. I was fortunate enough to get a seat by the emergency exit, so I had a lot of room to stretch out.
Arriving in Seoul was so utterly surreal, particularly after a full day of flying ( Atlanta to San Francisco, San Fran to Seoul ). After getting through customs and finding my luggage, I made my way through the international arrivals gate to be greeted by a wall of Koreans holding up signs in English, Hangul, and Chinese. A surging sense of bewilderment washed over me. I felt very self conscious. All eyes seemed to be fixed on me. My eyes darted over the signs they held. None read Mr. Patrick Bresnahan. Without a moment's hesitation, I rapidly shuffled out of the limelight to sit on some benches where I'd have a good view of my chauffeur when he or she arrived. I waited and grew steadily impatient. I went to the currency exchange to get some won. I decided to make my first purchase in Korea, so I went to a "Family Mart" to buy a coke. The dude working the cash register told me how much I owed using the Korean language. Thankfully, there was a digital display that said 800 won. I would have been totally lost without it. I paid up, sipped my coke, and waited some more. I grew weary of waiting, so I wandered about the airport, soaking up the scenery. There were enormous televisions everywhere, so I watched some Korean baseball. I started getting hungry and decided to buy some kimchi at the McDonald's there. I figured that the kimchi quality would be poor at an American fast food chain, but it didn't matter - I was pretty famished and I wanted to experience Korean food for the first time. On my way over to the restaurant, I heard an intercom crackle and mutter something about "Meesta Patreek Brez ah nuh hawn."
That's me! I quickly diverted from my food plan and hurried back toward the international arrivals gate, where I found the driver with my name on it. "Welcome to Korea!" it boasted in bold red lettering. I must admit that I was a bit peeved about waiting in the airport for a little over three hours. After a full day of traveling I wanted little more than a hot shower and a long, uninterrupted nap. The driver was cool. He offered me his smokes, which I declined. We chatted a bit in English, but the language barrier was wide and hard to bridge, so we kept it simple. "This is Seoul. Where are you from?" I never know how to answer that question in the states. Usually I say Chicago or Texas, not really sure what I want to claim as home. In Korea the answer to give is easy and I can do so with no hindrance. "I'm from America."
After a two hour drive, we made into Cheonan, a city nestled within mountains and sprawling with advertisement laden concrete apartments. We drove right up to the gates of my school, Buldang Elementary. From there, I was picked up by Tim, a Korean coworker, teacher, and newfound friend. He dropped me off my place, wrote down his phone number, asked me if I needed anything, and took off after saying that he'd pick me up on Tuesday to introduce me to the principal. Tuesday being 6 days away. I found myself alone in a foreign country with virtually no money, no knowledge of the language, and no direction. "OK", I said. "Thanks."
Here comes the negative part of my story. It has to be told, sadly. I need to be honest. Don't worry, though. The bad bit doesn't last long.
After Tim left I was able to get acclimated with my new home. My hotel room in Atlanta ( which was quite modest ) was bigger than my apartment. I didn't care so much about the size; coziness is comfortable. My room is just that - one room. It has a mini fridge, microwave, bed, television, tiny sink and stove. There is no closet, but a sliding glass door that leads to a small porch of sorts with a very small washer but no dryer. I found no desk, no chair, no lamp, no towels, no toilet paper, no pillow, no dryer or clothes rack to dry out the clothes on. Not exactly "fully furnished," like I was promised.
The bathroom, like the room, is micro sized. I've never seen anything quite like it. There is no tub or separate bathing area. Beside the toilet is a sink with two faucets, one of which has a hose stemming from it that leads to a shower head. The shower head rests on a wall mounted post. Next to the toilet, on the ground, is a drain. So when I want to shower, I just stand in the middle of the bathroom next to the toilet and rinse myself off. When it's time to shampoo I need to put the shower head and in the sink and then use both hands to scrub and massage my hair. Some juggling is required.
Again, I wasn't bothered by the size of the room; I assumed that it would be small. I was, however, irked by the numerous clumps of dust bunnies coating the floor. "Dust bunny" isn't even an appropriate term. I'm talking dust gorillas here. They were accompanied by assorted empty beer bottles and cakes of dirt crusted to the floor. The sink was coated with stains, toothpaste residue, and had a few dirty dishes laying around it. The mirror in the bathroom was covered with water stains (from showering in the middle of the room, no doubt). The worst, though, the absolute worst part about the room was the bed. The sheet and two blankets resting on the bed had a strong, pungent BO smell embedded within. Yeah, those visions of what Korea was like were pretty far from my mind at that time.
I was completely drained after 24 hours of airport hopping. I couldn't sleep on the floor, snuggling up against the dust gorillas. I had no choice but to sleep on the bed - far away from the BO blankets and using my hoodie as a pillow. I woke up the next day and proceeded to take a shower with my hose attachment. The water wouldn't get hot, though. I couldn't figure it out. Perhaps the landlord hadn't turned on the hot water to this apartment yet? Bracing the frigid water, I showered in bouts of shivers. With no towel, I dried myself off with a t shirt. I dressed and ventured out into Cheonan.
The first thing on my agenda was to find a store to buy laundry detergent and some grub. I found a "Sun-Mart" on my block and bought some detergent, toilet paper, a 1.5 Liter of Coke, some rice with kimchi, and Korea's version of ramen (which is much, much better than the stuff American college kids are surviving on). Back in my room, I washed my bedding. The problem, though, was that I had nothing to hang my sheet and blankets so that they would dry. Of course convenience stores don't sell clothes racks. I ended up ghetto rigging a way to hang up my bedding with the draw string that I pull on to open my blinds and the headboard of my bed. It was sufficient and my blankets dried in half a day or so.
At this time, I must admit that I was not very pleased with my decision to come to Korea. I kept musing over it, "Why did I decide to come here again? Why didn't I try to go to Spain or South America to teach?" At least there I'd have a solid foundation of the language. I'd be able to get by just fine, and eventually I'd be bilingual. After a few failed and flustering attempts at communication in stores, I especially was feeling down about coming to Korea, where I have no grasp on Hangul. Yet, I was reminded about the kids. As much as I wanted to travel and learn a new culture and language, I realized it's really not about me. It's about the kids. And how sweet they are! I was wandering around the city, near a park, when a bunch of beaming kids pop out and exclaim, "Hello! How are you! Good morning, teacher!" (Basically, if you're not Asian and you're in South Korea then you're either on vacation or your teaching). These little kids were just buzzing with energy and elation. They were so happy to meet someone with whom to practice their English skills. I sat with them a while and chatted. "I'm from America," I told them. One of the little girls looked at me, giggled and said, "Hann sum. Prit ty." I blushed, chuckled, and thanked them. I just hope the older Korean females think the same. I walked away with a beaming smile plastered across my face and an ebullient surge of happiness brimming in my heart.
It would be a few days before I stumbled upon Lotte Mart - Korea's version of WalMart (I asked Tim today if he had heard or been to a WalMart. Strangely enough, he wasn't privy to the mega conglomerate. I thought WalMart was taking over the world. Stand strong, South Korea! Don't let WalMart invade your soil!) Anyhow, I bought a clothes rack, some cleaning supplies, towels, a broom and dustpan combo, and a Korean English Dictionary at Lotte Mart. I promptly trekked back home (about a 15 minute walk) and cleaned my room.
I felt absolutely blissful knowing that my room was clean. The cleansing was like a purging, almost convalescent. The room was beginning to feel more like mine, more like my home. And so was Cheonan. Despite being on my own for 6 days, I felt very welcome here. There were a few things I needed to figure out at this point, though.
1. hot water? 2. what's my address? 3. what do I do with my garbage? 4. how do I get internet access? 5. when can I start private tutoring? 6. when am I going to be brave enough to eat real Korean food in a restaurant? 7. I see delivery men zipping around everywhere on these scooters with bandannas covering their mouths, looking like gnarly Yakuza bandits - where can I get my own scooter and how much do they cost? 8. I'm running low on won - where can I find an ATM that will accept my debit card - Visa, it's seriously not everywhere Patrick wants to be.
After two days of intolerably frigid showers, I decided that I had to find a phone to call Tim and get this briskness resolved. I figured that the dude operating the Sun Mart was my best bet. His English was minimal, but he was nice enough to tell me that the food I wanted to buy was expired and get me another package - he had my best interests in mind. I bought a drink and timidly asked him, "haendu pone?" He understood and was kind enough to let me borrow his cell phone, his "hand phone." I called up Tim and told him about my water woes. He deeply apologized for not telling me about this hidden little panel that controls the water temperature. I went home and found the panel which had dozens of buttons scattered across its face. All the writing was in Hangul. Eventually I found the right combination of dials, buttons, and switches. The water was hot and soothing and I just melted away.
With a clean room and a hot shower, I now had no complaints about my life in Cheonan. In fact, I was finding more things every day that I loved. At first I was a bit troubled about being alone in a land foreign to me. I assumed that I'd have some sort of guide to show me my new habitat. But then I got stoked on the unknown. Each day was a new adventure, and I had no earthly idea what was waiting for me.
I spent six days exploring the city and hills. The first thing I fell in love with ( aside from my encounters with ecstatic kids ) was hiking these really steep trails that wind through densely forested mountains. Along the trails, I've found burial mounds with little pillars marking the dead, very scenic views of far off mountains, and these beautiful mini temple things ( I'll find out a more official title soon ) that are ornately painted and richly detailed with vibrant turquoises, pinks, and maroons. After a long day of ascending a particularly challenging trail, I reached the summit and spent some time peacefully pondering over my decision to come to South Korea. My heart grew quiet and I prayed. The wind was soft on my skin and gentle...ethereal as it filtered through my hair. I gazed down the mountain; I was above the tree line and all the concrete of Cheonan was spread out below me, far away. I put everything behind me, the grime, the squalid apartment. I forgot about Spain and South America.
It was then, at the top of the mountain, that I knew I had no qualms about coming to Cheonan.
The Korean government looked over my documents - the proof that I had graduated from college, my passport, letters of recommendation, transcript, identification photos, criminal background check with apostille from Tennessee, and my certification for being an educator - and after many weeks of waiting I was given an approval number and an interview date with the Korean consulate in Atlanta. From there, I would get a one year work visa placed in my passport to make me a legitimate, but temporary, citizen of South Korea. My interview with the consul went very smoothly. He said, "I see no reason why you should not go to Korea."
And so I went. The flight was epically long, 15 hours or so. A friend who had experienced a similar flight (to Japan) gave me the great advice of buying some sleeping pills before departure. To this advice I did not adhere and spent many hours reading and listening to my mp3 player, wide awake. It wasn't so bad. I stretched often, ambling about the cabin. I managed to doze off a dozen times. I was fortunate enough to get a seat by the emergency exit, so I had a lot of room to stretch out.
Arriving in Seoul was so utterly surreal, particularly after a full day of flying ( Atlanta to San Francisco, San Fran to Seoul ). After getting through customs and finding my luggage, I made my way through the international arrivals gate to be greeted by a wall of Koreans holding up signs in English, Hangul, and Chinese. A surging sense of bewilderment washed over me. I felt very self conscious. All eyes seemed to be fixed on me. My eyes darted over the signs they held. None read Mr. Patrick Bresnahan. Without a moment's hesitation, I rapidly shuffled out of the limelight to sit on some benches where I'd have a good view of my chauffeur when he or she arrived. I waited and grew steadily impatient. I went to the currency exchange to get some won. I decided to make my first purchase in Korea, so I went to a "Family Mart" to buy a coke. The dude working the cash register told me how much I owed using the Korean language. Thankfully, there was a digital display that said 800 won. I would have been totally lost without it. I paid up, sipped my coke, and waited some more. I grew weary of waiting, so I wandered about the airport, soaking up the scenery. There were enormous televisions everywhere, so I watched some Korean baseball. I started getting hungry and decided to buy some kimchi at the McDonald's there. I figured that the kimchi quality would be poor at an American fast food chain, but it didn't matter - I was pretty famished and I wanted to experience Korean food for the first time. On my way over to the restaurant, I heard an intercom crackle and mutter something about "Meesta Patreek Brez ah nuh hawn."
That's me! I quickly diverted from my food plan and hurried back toward the international arrivals gate, where I found the driver with my name on it. "Welcome to Korea!" it boasted in bold red lettering. I must admit that I was a bit peeved about waiting in the airport for a little over three hours. After a full day of traveling I wanted little more than a hot shower and a long, uninterrupted nap. The driver was cool. He offered me his smokes, which I declined. We chatted a bit in English, but the language barrier was wide and hard to bridge, so we kept it simple. "This is Seoul. Where are you from?" I never know how to answer that question in the states. Usually I say Chicago or Texas, not really sure what I want to claim as home. In Korea the answer to give is easy and I can do so with no hindrance. "I'm from America."
After a two hour drive, we made into Cheonan, a city nestled within mountains and sprawling with advertisement laden concrete apartments. We drove right up to the gates of my school, Buldang Elementary. From there, I was picked up by Tim, a Korean coworker, teacher, and newfound friend. He dropped me off my place, wrote down his phone number, asked me if I needed anything, and took off after saying that he'd pick me up on Tuesday to introduce me to the principal. Tuesday being 6 days away. I found myself alone in a foreign country with virtually no money, no knowledge of the language, and no direction. "OK", I said. "Thanks."
Here comes the negative part of my story. It has to be told, sadly. I need to be honest. Don't worry, though. The bad bit doesn't last long.
After Tim left I was able to get acclimated with my new home. My hotel room in Atlanta ( which was quite modest ) was bigger than my apartment. I didn't care so much about the size; coziness is comfortable. My room is just that - one room. It has a mini fridge, microwave, bed, television, tiny sink and stove. There is no closet, but a sliding glass door that leads to a small porch of sorts with a very small washer but no dryer. I found no desk, no chair, no lamp, no towels, no toilet paper, no pillow, no dryer or clothes rack to dry out the clothes on. Not exactly "fully furnished," like I was promised.
The bathroom, like the room, is micro sized. I've never seen anything quite like it. There is no tub or separate bathing area. Beside the toilet is a sink with two faucets, one of which has a hose stemming from it that leads to a shower head. The shower head rests on a wall mounted post. Next to the toilet, on the ground, is a drain. So when I want to shower, I just stand in the middle of the bathroom next to the toilet and rinse myself off. When it's time to shampoo I need to put the shower head and in the sink and then use both hands to scrub and massage my hair. Some juggling is required.
Again, I wasn't bothered by the size of the room; I assumed that it would be small. I was, however, irked by the numerous clumps of dust bunnies coating the floor. "Dust bunny" isn't even an appropriate term. I'm talking dust gorillas here. They were accompanied by assorted empty beer bottles and cakes of dirt crusted to the floor. The sink was coated with stains, toothpaste residue, and had a few dirty dishes laying around it. The mirror in the bathroom was covered with water stains (from showering in the middle of the room, no doubt). The worst, though, the absolute worst part about the room was the bed. The sheet and two blankets resting on the bed had a strong, pungent BO smell embedded within. Yeah, those visions of what Korea was like were pretty far from my mind at that time.
I was completely drained after 24 hours of airport hopping. I couldn't sleep on the floor, snuggling up against the dust gorillas. I had no choice but to sleep on the bed - far away from the BO blankets and using my hoodie as a pillow. I woke up the next day and proceeded to take a shower with my hose attachment. The water wouldn't get hot, though. I couldn't figure it out. Perhaps the landlord hadn't turned on the hot water to this apartment yet? Bracing the frigid water, I showered in bouts of shivers. With no towel, I dried myself off with a t shirt. I dressed and ventured out into Cheonan.
The first thing on my agenda was to find a store to buy laundry detergent and some grub. I found a "Sun-Mart" on my block and bought some detergent, toilet paper, a 1.5 Liter of Coke, some rice with kimchi, and Korea's version of ramen (which is much, much better than the stuff American college kids are surviving on). Back in my room, I washed my bedding. The problem, though, was that I had nothing to hang my sheet and blankets so that they would dry. Of course convenience stores don't sell clothes racks. I ended up ghetto rigging a way to hang up my bedding with the draw string that I pull on to open my blinds and the headboard of my bed. It was sufficient and my blankets dried in half a day or so.
At this time, I must admit that I was not very pleased with my decision to come to Korea. I kept musing over it, "Why did I decide to come here again? Why didn't I try to go to Spain or South America to teach?" At least there I'd have a solid foundation of the language. I'd be able to get by just fine, and eventually I'd be bilingual. After a few failed and flustering attempts at communication in stores, I especially was feeling down about coming to Korea, where I have no grasp on Hangul. Yet, I was reminded about the kids. As much as I wanted to travel and learn a new culture and language, I realized it's really not about me. It's about the kids. And how sweet they are! I was wandering around the city, near a park, when a bunch of beaming kids pop out and exclaim, "Hello! How are you! Good morning, teacher!" (Basically, if you're not Asian and you're in South Korea then you're either on vacation or your teaching). These little kids were just buzzing with energy and elation. They were so happy to meet someone with whom to practice their English skills. I sat with them a while and chatted. "I'm from America," I told them. One of the little girls looked at me, giggled and said, "Hann sum. Prit ty." I blushed, chuckled, and thanked them. I just hope the older Korean females think the same. I walked away with a beaming smile plastered across my face and an ebullient surge of happiness brimming in my heart.
It would be a few days before I stumbled upon Lotte Mart - Korea's version of WalMart (I asked Tim today if he had heard or been to a WalMart. Strangely enough, he wasn't privy to the mega conglomerate. I thought WalMart was taking over the world. Stand strong, South Korea! Don't let WalMart invade your soil!) Anyhow, I bought a clothes rack, some cleaning supplies, towels, a broom and dustpan combo, and a Korean English Dictionary at Lotte Mart. I promptly trekked back home (about a 15 minute walk) and cleaned my room.
I felt absolutely blissful knowing that my room was clean. The cleansing was like a purging, almost convalescent. The room was beginning to feel more like mine, more like my home. And so was Cheonan. Despite being on my own for 6 days, I felt very welcome here. There were a few things I needed to figure out at this point, though.
1. hot water? 2. what's my address? 3. what do I do with my garbage? 4. how do I get internet access? 5. when can I start private tutoring? 6. when am I going to be brave enough to eat real Korean food in a restaurant? 7. I see delivery men zipping around everywhere on these scooters with bandannas covering their mouths, looking like gnarly Yakuza bandits - where can I get my own scooter and how much do they cost? 8. I'm running low on won - where can I find an ATM that will accept my debit card - Visa, it's seriously not everywhere Patrick wants to be.
After two days of intolerably frigid showers, I decided that I had to find a phone to call Tim and get this briskness resolved. I figured that the dude operating the Sun Mart was my best bet. His English was minimal, but he was nice enough to tell me that the food I wanted to buy was expired and get me another package - he had my best interests in mind. I bought a drink and timidly asked him, "haendu pone?" He understood and was kind enough to let me borrow his cell phone, his "hand phone." I called up Tim and told him about my water woes. He deeply apologized for not telling me about this hidden little panel that controls the water temperature. I went home and found the panel which had dozens of buttons scattered across its face. All the writing was in Hangul. Eventually I found the right combination of dials, buttons, and switches. The water was hot and soothing and I just melted away.
With a clean room and a hot shower, I now had no complaints about my life in Cheonan. In fact, I was finding more things every day that I loved. At first I was a bit troubled about being alone in a land foreign to me. I assumed that I'd have some sort of guide to show me my new habitat. But then I got stoked on the unknown. Each day was a new adventure, and I had no earthly idea what was waiting for me.
I spent six days exploring the city and hills. The first thing I fell in love with ( aside from my encounters with ecstatic kids ) was hiking these really steep trails that wind through densely forested mountains. Along the trails, I've found burial mounds with little pillars marking the dead, very scenic views of far off mountains, and these beautiful mini temple things ( I'll find out a more official title soon ) that are ornately painted and richly detailed with vibrant turquoises, pinks, and maroons. After a long day of ascending a particularly challenging trail, I reached the summit and spent some time peacefully pondering over my decision to come to South Korea. My heart grew quiet and I prayed. The wind was soft on my skin and gentle...ethereal as it filtered through my hair. I gazed down the mountain; I was above the tree line and all the concrete of Cheonan was spread out below me, far away. I put everything behind me, the grime, the squalid apartment. I forgot about Spain and South America.
It was then, at the top of the mountain, that I knew I had no qualms about coming to Cheonan.
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