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.