No Qualms In Cheonan

Sequences

2008-11-26T01:07:00.002+09:00

I’m not one to recall my life in chronological order.

This doesn’t only include my memories of childhood, but what I can gather from the past year, 6 months, three weeks, yesterday, whatever. I don’t mean to say that my memories are less than vivid; on the contrary they’re quite crisp and tangible (to me) - only the order is typically out of sequence.

I traveled to Japan about two months ago for 5 days or so, and I’m already having difficulty mentally organizing my trip into a chronological sequence of what I experienced first, second, and so on.

Instead, my memories of Japan are a jumbled palette of events, emotions, and aesthetics.

Had I written about my travels in the Land of the Rising Sun directly upon my return to Korea, home, perhaps my writing would’ve been more sequentially logical. However, I came back to Cheonan and went immediately back to a whirlwind of daily work. My routine became a bit frantic. I got sick. Things got increasingly hectic and I picked up more teaching positions. So here I am, nearly two months later, and I’m trying to put my perspectives on Japan in order.

Too bad I direly need to crash now.

Will continue soon.

Of Xenophobia and Assimilation

2008-10-12T16:00:00.003+09:00

Life's been a bit busy for me lately. I've taken on a few other teaching jobs, since such opportunities are abundant in Korea. For a native English speaker, getting an ESL position here is as easy as walking by an oak tree in Autumn, watching a leaf take its pendulum plunge to the earth, and snatching it from the sky before it lands softly upon the soil.

I now teach an adult class three times a week. It's my 아 줌마 (ahjoomah) class, meaning "married woman." Since I teach them MWF from 10-12, only moms are really available since their husbands are working. Let's just say that Korean women in their 30's and 40's really like me.

I'm also teaching gifted sixth graders every other Saturday for three hours. The class is a bit challenging since I have to pick a single topic, find materials, create appropriate activities and games, and make it last three hours. My first lesson had too many materials, my second not enough. It's hard to find a balance, but I'm enjoying the ride - and so are my students. We have good times.

The first time I taught them, we played 'getting to know you' games. I first had all the kids write down a fact about them that no one really knows. It could have been a secret talent, desire, etc. as long as they didn't mind sharing it. That bit was crucial - I didn't want any dirty, clandestine bits of info being shared! After everyone wrote their secret on a scrap of paper, they handed them to me and I read them aloud. The students had to guess who, among their peers, could do that talent. One girl could talk like Yoda from Star Wars. Another could form a box with her body (some kind of yoga position, I think). I shared my secret talent with them and now I'll expose it you. I guess it won't be so secretive anymore. I can form a little bubble of spit on my tongue, gently blow on it, thus propelling it from my tongue and making it float about in the air. Upon doing so, the kids cheered and wooped and felt generally amused or disgusted. I know, I should go on Letterman.

Yesterday, I taught them briefly about palindromes during our break. My favorite - A man, a plan, a canal, PANAMA! I showed them Panama on the map, and explained that at one point in history merchants would travel ALL the way around South America to export their goods until one bright dude thought of creating the Panama Canal. The kids dug it.

Yesterday's topic was traveling abroad and what one needs to do in preparation to ensure a safe trip. I told them about my trip to Mexico and about how I avoided Montezuma's Revenge. They were shocked to hear about how sick one can become from foreign tap water. I asked them about the steps needed for brushing one's teeth.

They said, "take out a toothbrush, put some toothpaste, and go like this." With invisible toothbrushes they pantomimed cleansing their teeth.

I said, "Wait! You forgot one crucial part."

"Oh, yeah Teacher. You gotta put on water."

"That's right," I beamed. "You know, in Mexico, you can't even put tap water on your toothbrush before you brush your teeth because it could make you sick." I heard cries of "진짜?" and "really?" (진짜 means 'really?' or 'really' depending on the inflection and sounds like "jinncha." It happens to be my favorite Korean word so far).

"That's right, so what do you need to do in foreign countries to make sure you don't get sick?" I asked.

"Use bottled water," they cried. Such bright students I have.

We started talking about the importance of learning useful phrases in other languages. So if you're going to Portugal or Brazil, learn some Portuguese before you go. In addition to learning some survival language, we conversed over the importance of learning about the country's culture. I told them about how I started learning about Korean customs and how they are vastly different from all things American. In the States, we don't bow, pour each other's drinks, take things with two hands, or extend our right hand while supporting it with our left - but all those mannerisms are mandatory in Korea. I now do each of these things on a daily basis in Korea without thinking twice or feeling the slightest bit awkward.

"I've assimilated," I told them.

So much, in fact, that I'll experience some serious reverse culture shock when returning home. I'll be bowing like mad!

During one of the ten minute breaks, we played a game where one student has to say an English word, and the next person has to come up with a word that begins with the previous word's last letter. For example, if one person says "rabbit" the next person will say "tiger" or "torrential" or "triceratops" or whatever word they can think of that begins with the letter t. One student said "tax," meaning the next person had to come up with a word starting with x. X-ray had already been used, so they weren't sure what to say. I broke in and decided to teach them xylophone, and, more importantly, xenophobia - the fear or hatred of all things foreign.

I talked briefly about America, the concept of the "melting pot" and why this term isn't nearly so accurate as "mixed salad." Basically, different cultures don't gel or coagulate. People from different backgrounds form barriers; where there are barriers, there are fears. I told my students that I don't really understand exactly why people become xenophobic. From my perspective, other cultures are fascinating. I want to learn how others live, and perhaps adopt what I like into my own way of living.

Since I've come to Korea, I haven't felt one spec of xenophobia - either towards others or from others toward myself. Sure, Koreans and 외국인 (waygookin) don't always understand each other, but our cultures tend to slosh around and deliquesce into one another with greater ease here.

Why can't this happen in the States?

외국인 (Foreigner)

2008-09-16T04:10:00.003+09:00

I've been able to meet many foreigners here. Folks from the States, Canada, South Africa, Australia, England, Wales, and Ireland I've all come to know. I semi-joined a foreigner soccer league, so we tend to gather every Sunday or so for a match against various Korean teams. I must admit that I'm a very sorry soccer player, but I focus my energies on one main task: not messing up or doing anything embarrassing. I've already failed at my simple task.

That being said, there is a growing population of foreigners here, so it's not altogether unlikely to see one walking about on any given day. I usually see at least one foreigner per day on my travels. However, not all Koreans (especially not Korean kids) are accustomed to seeing white, black, or hispanic people. There have been a few occasions where a little girl will stop dead in her tracks, look up at me, and simply gawk. Jaws dropped, eyes wide. I just smile, wave or say "hello." One time this exact thing happened when I was in a convenience store, waiting in line. The little girl looked up at me with such intensity. Her eyes honed in on mine. I mustered up an embarrassed smile and was about to break free from her gaze. She paused a moment, still staring so curiously and then cried out "아 빠!" This sounds like "appa" and means 'dad.' I guess I sort of frightened her, since she'd probably never seen someone with light brown hair, pinkish skin and blue eyes.

Alas...

2008-08-25T14:09:00.002+09:00

....My poor, neglected blog. My computer has been in the shop for the past few weeks, so I haven't been able to use it to write here, on my blog, in the conveniency of my home. I promise to write soon.

Super quick update:

Teaching has been great - the students are learning, and my classroom atmosphere is improving. Behavior problems are rapidly decreasing.

I was very fortunate to see a private Korean ceremony called Jesa, wherein a family commemorates an ancestor.

I've been traveling all over Korea in my spare time.

I went scuba diving near the DMZ; I was probably 45 minutes away from The Democratic People's Republic of Korea.

I bought a cheap bicylcle, so I've been touring all over Cheonan.

I'm going to Japan in October to see Radiohead and visit a friend from long ago.

I plan on writing much more about all these things in greater detail as time and my computer woes permit.

Hope everyone's well on the other side of the globe!

A Vagrant Wind

2008-07-06T14:42:00.005+09:00

My Grandfather had a boundless, inspirational creativity that was expressed through his gift of storytelling and poetic verse. He formed his own hardcover books, bound and sewn with intricate care and love. His books were teeming with wild war stories and reflective poems. Grandpa Dan made dozens, and I'm so fortunate to have one. Before going to Korea, I knew he'd probably pass on before I came back to the States, so I brought his book along with me to cherish.

I've been thinking about him constantly since he passed on a short while back, and here on my blog I'd like to share some of his poetry.

Prudent Poet

Never Expose your wit
Never brag about it
'Cause it stems from the past
Not the present.

Keep hushed your tongue
About what you have done
For, in silence, it remains
As a present.

Death...

To be a
Constant
Companion,
Entered life
Hand - in - hand
With me; a
Silent guide
To my every
Step toward
Its ultimate
Victory.

As a Leaf....

Cloistered in a curl,
Green and Pale,
Elixir, pulsed veins
With life burst full
Length and breadth to
Joys of warm air, and,
The light of heaven's stars
At night.

Drinking spring rain in
Warmth and light.
With evening dew as
Cool dense smothering shade
Discourage fireflies amid
The boughs, until the
Loving sun, guardian of earth's
Life, returns.

All nature awaits,
As a leaf,
To bloom glory full in
Its radiant smile; and
Sense the love in its
Arrival rustle a path amid
My kin.

By the steep angle in
The sky I know your
Attendance to my wants,
And, needs will cool;
Fading the green of life
Into brindled orange
and hues of frost's
Selective brush.

Now, nips the bite of
Your frosted glance
Severing my grip on
Earth's eternal bough;
As, I, slip away on a
Vagrant wind....to lie
Cool and crisp amid your
lingering fragrance.

D.W. Symancyk

2008-07-01T01:16:00.003+09:00

My mother's father passed away last week. He was a wonderful, wise man, and memories of him will be cherished. Grandpa Symancyk will forever be missed. My prayers go out to all who knew and loved him.

Grub / Dog Eat Dog

2008-07-01T00:59:00.003+09:00

I've been in Korean for about 2 months now, and in that short time I've eaten some peculiar foods. I thought I'd compile a little list here of the odd things I've consumed.

live, raw octopus (san nock gee)
dead, cooked octopus (nock gee)
octopus tentacles (moonoe)
dried squid
fermented sting ray
chicken feet
chicken anus (it tasted like chicken, only chewier)
silkworm larvae (never again...)
jellyfish
cow intestine
raw fish (not all that strange, I know)
snail soup

No, I haven't eaten man's best friend yet. I don't think I will, even though the dogs used for consumption are raised to be eaten in farms and not as pets in homes. But a dog is a dog, regardless of where it comes from.

Open Class Day; Behavior Curbing

2008-06-30T23:26:00.003+09:00

I had my open class two weeks back. I was so utterly nervous when other teachers, parents, administrators, and principals filtered into my room. I thought I was going to lose the lunch I had eaten just before teaching - nackjee topbap - rice atop octopus, doused in spicy red pepper paste. Before teaching, I had to print out dozens of copies of my lesson plan, giving one copy to each guest. I wrote the lesson at the last possible moment, and I felt shaky and a bit tipsy with insecurity about what I had planned to teach. I knew that if my students were going to misbehave in front of these parents in the same manner that they had been misbehaving in my classroom the previous weeks, the open class day was bound to be a fantastic, disastrous failure.

My lesson covered different occupations. My fellow afternoon teacher, Nicole, was kind enough to lend me little flashcards that displayed pictures of different occupations on them, accompanied by the word for that occupation. For example, one had an illustration of a policeman catching a crook on it; beneath the picture there was written 'police officer.' I also had a flashcard for artist, cook, farmer, fisherman, teacher, doctor, nurse, teacher, hairdresser, firefighter, soldier, and singer. A few days before my lesson, I bought magnets and Nicole lent me a small magnetic white board.

During my lesson, I magnetized one flashcard to the board, held it up and showed the students, and asked had them repeat the occupation. We would chant, "firefighter" etc. together. Then, I taught them the phrase "when I grow up, I want to be a..." To illustrate this, I would crouch down slightly, then lift my arms and rise up as I said, "when I grow up, I want to be a..." I explained to my students that they are young, but one day they will be older and when that happens they will have a job. I'd have one occupation magnetized to my board at a time. I'd show the students the occupation, we'd chant the word together, and afterwards we would say, "When I grow up, I want to be a _______." After we practiced this phrase, I taped the flashcard to the big white board behind me, and occasionally we would review and repeat each occupation. It seemed to go over quite well.

Upon working through all the occupations, I handed out a worksheet that had 8 or so pictures on it, each picture representing a different job. For example, one picture was of a big red cross with a stethoscope inside, thereby representing 'doctor.' Next to that picture, the students had to write out "When I grow up, I want to be a doctor." After all the students had finished writing down every sentence, we chanted them together. Repetition is key, I've found. By this time, there was only a few minutes left in the period, so I gave them a word search that I made using a template I found online. The words they had to find were all different job positions. The students were to complete the word search for homework.

While teaching, my nervousness eventually faded. I got into a teaching groove of sorts, and the tension I felt inside slowly dissipated. I didn't focus on the glaring teachers in the background; I could only hone my attention on the students and what I was teaching. In my head, the atmosphere of the classroom was charged with tension and, despite being fraught with fear, I think everything went rather smoothly. My students were mini cherubims that day, perfectly participating, whilst sitting serenely still with hands clasped and eyes aglow. I had absolutely NO behavioral problems whatsoever. I guess my students were just as afraid as I was to have so many parents and adults in the classroom.

This became an annoying trend before my open class. My students started showcasing poor, disrespectful attitudes when I was teaching, but as soon as a Korean teacher walked by the classroom or popped her head inside the door, the students instantly acted impeccably. Why did they show such respect for Korean teachers but not for me? They knew exactly how they were supposed to act and they could, it seemed, easily act in such a decent and polite way, but they failed to do so while I was teaching. I eventually became very flustered shortly before my open class. I had been screaming and yelling for a few weeks. At first it worked well to yell. The kids would behave, but eventually my hollering proved ineffective. It didn't matter how often or how loud I screamed out, "Be quiet! sit down! Behave!" The students started to ignore my commands. I knew I had to come up with some way of threatening or blackmailing them into acting properly. At first, I was stumped. The initial thought I had was to call the folks of the bad students, but with my limited handle on Hangul, this seemed futile. What was I to do...call home and tell the parent (in English) how poor their student was? The folks wouldn't understand me.

The day after my open class, the poor student behavior continued. It seemed to me as if the students were unphased by the previous day's sound behavior. They went on being as wild and talkative as before. I had had enough. I finally thought of a good way to curb their attitudes. I proceeded to write down the name of each student on the board. I explained to them that if one student is bad, I'll scold he or she and erase a third of his / her name. If I have to say something to that student again, I'll erase another third of his or her name. If I have to do so once again, I will erase the entirety of the name and have the principal call home. That got their attention. Backs straightened. Pencils were torn out of pencil cases, poised rigidly upright - tense and eager to write. Ears practically jutted out, ready to pounce upon any word that seeped from my mouth.

For the past two weeks, I've had very, very few behavior issues. I can't help but grin.

Pulgogi

2008-06-09T00:02:00.002+09:00

I stopped by Jino’s hagwon the other night, but he wasn’t in. Surprisingly, the door to the institution was unlocked and I found two of his students hanging out inside. They kindly asked me what I needed and if I wanted to use their cell phone to call up Jino. Their English was impressive (the hagwon’s work!) and one rang up Jino for me. He explained that he had just finished teaching, that his wife and baby were in town, and that he wouldn’t be able to hang out until tomorrow. We agreed to meet up the next afternoon.

So I sipped on some of his complimentary coffee and decided to chat it up with the two high school aged students. One was busy using Jino’s computer for Star Craft; the other was studying biology. It was obvious that he didn’t really care to study because he started chatting with me in English, ignoring the open science book. We spoke on a number of topics, occasionally using an electronic Korean and English dictionary to further understand one another. We spoke of how difficult it is to learn English among other languages. He said that Hangul is very simple compared to English.

“What about Chinese?” I asked. “The characters seem impossible to learn.”
He laughed. “Chinese isn’t a language, it’s a password.”

I told him that I wanted to learn more Hangul because not being able to read all the signs around me and not being able to communicate with newfound acquaintances is frustrating. Promptly, he took out some sheets of paper and began to teach me the basic alphabet, consonants and vowels. He folded another sheet in half, and asked me to write down English words on the left hand column so that he could jot down the Hangul translation in the right hand column.

Hmmm...What to write? I thought about what my elementary students know how to say in English. They have more of a foundation of English than I have of Korean. So, I thought about some of the basic necessities. Here’s a list of the words he taught me to say and write:

What time is it?
I’m hungry
What’s your favorite color?
Red
Blue
White
Green
Black
I feel...
Happy
Sad
Lonely
Sleepy / Tired
Thirsty
I’m sorry
Forgive me
I love you
Beer
Chicken
Rice
Apple
Cow
Pork
Pear
Dog
Cat
Fish (pet)
Fish (food)
Good
Turtle
Sun
The weather is good
The weather is bad
It’s hot
It’s rainy
It’s foggy
Car
Bus
Train (station)
east, west, north, south
the twelve months
winter, autumn, summer, spring
school (elementary, middle, high, university)
principal
respect
foolish
smart

I was very thankful for the lesson, warmly thanking my newly acquired friend and songsaengnim. I look forward to chatting with him again. I strolled on home, but I felt restless when I reached my destination. I decided to keep on walking. 20 minutes walking distance from my house is a small business area; I opted to head there. Many clubs, bars, shops and restaurants line those streets. It’s a very scenic place, particularly at night because the buildings are plastered with neon signs, flickering flashing bulbs, and spinning advertisements with swirling colors. The buildings have at least six or seven stories each, with different clubs or pool halls on each floor. There’s usually a buzz on those few blocks, an atmosphere to soak up and sights to see. I like to overwhelm my senses as I stroll these streets. The lights are so vibrant and covered with a myriad of colorful explosions, that gazing down the street makes me fear for epileptics.

I was feeling pretty parched by the time I made it to this area, so I went inside a quickie mart and purchased some grapefruit orange gatorade (it’s dominant). Outside of virtually all Korean convenience stores are plastic tables and chairs. One often sees men enjoying some beer or students eating frozen treats on these seats. I decided to take a little break from walking, so I sat down outside the quickie mart and started sipping away on my drink. A moment later, a Korean man walked by and started speaking to me with very broken English. He was quite friendly, so I motioned for him to pull up a chair to chat with me. I’d say he was around 35 years old or so. I asked him what his occupation was.

With much stammering and pausing, he told me, “I.......am....a..........” His eyes darted about behind his glasses and he almost looked in pain due to thinking so hard. Finally, he said “I am a history.”
“Oh, you’re a historian.” I said. “You study history.”
“Yes. American history. England history. Korean history. All world history.”

I told him a bit about what I’m doing in Korea, but I don’t think I was able to communicate very much to him. For one, his knowledge of English was very poor. My Korean is practically non-existent. I had to speak painfully slowly for him to gather anything - all while using lots of hand gestures. Soon after finding that his English was very minimal, I discovered that he was completely and utterly inebriated. As he sat down, he put a bottle of Soju on the table and offered me a drink. I declined, and he started to drink some more (not that he needed it). Let me be clear about this. Korean drunks don’t seem to be like some American drunks, surly and aggressive. This man was pretty chilled out. He was very kind and brave, for he had no inhibitions about speaking with me in a language he didn’t really understand. I didn’t realize just HOW drunk he was until speaking with him for about 10 minutes or so. At this point, for some reason unknown to me, he decided to hoist himself up in his seat. Remember that these chairs are a thin, flimsy plastic - like cheap lawn chairs. So as he hoisted himself up and out of his chair, his elbows locked and his bottom elevated above the seat, he began to tip back slowly. I exclaimed, “be careful!” But he didn’t understand and it was too late. He toppled backwards, hitting his head on the chairs stacked behind him. I rushed to aid him, grasping his arm and lifting him up on his feet. “Are you ok, man?”
“Yes, I ok.”

The man proceeded to stagger about, his mind certainly fogged over. His world must have been a blur, for he could scarcely manage to walk. I asked him if he’d like to sit back down and rest, but he seemed to want to stand a while. I started thinking about bailing on the dude. It was just at that moment that he asked me to come with him.

“Where?”
“Eat. Eat.”

Indeed I was feeling pretty hungry at the time. He seemed harmless enough, despite his intoxication, so I decided to follow him to get some grub. We walked a block or so and entered a restaurant. It was the type that served grilled meat in front of you on top of a bucket of hot coals that rest inside a chasm within the center of the table. There’s a tube suspended above each table, each grill. When the food is brought out and strips of meat are placed on the grill, the waitress lowers the tube which sucks up air. So the heat from the hot coals is vacuumed up through the food. Pretty cool stuff. He asked me what I like to eat. I told him chicken. He repeated the word, 'chicken,' but I don’t think he understood. So I figured I’d tell him one of the few food words in my vocabulary.

“Pulgogee.”
“Ah, pulgogee.” So he ordered up the pulgogee (strips of marinated beef - so so good) and more Soju. He looked over at me, just as sloshed as ever, put his hand up and said “wait.”
“OK, no problem.”

He walked outside the restaurant and headed over to a restroom. This is common in Korea. Usually a restaurant will not have a bathroom inside it, but just outside in a public area. I could see where he was staggering because right behind me the wall was made up mostly of windows. I waited a while and began munching on the kimchi that the waitress had brought out. The pulgogee was already simmering. “Where is this guy?” I thought after a few minutes. I looked out the window at the bathroom. Just at that moment, I saw him slowly emerge from the bathroom, still soused and stumbling. He walked half way to the restaurant door, and then, curiously, stopped. He looked to his left. His head bobbed a bit. He looked to his right. At that moment his memory must have completely blacked out. In his intoxicated haze, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Surely, he knew he was supposed to be doing something. I saw this scene unfold before me, and I thought, “this dude has no grip on reality right now. I wonder if he’ll come to his senses?”

And he didn’t.
The drunken dude turned around and walked on, to his home probably. I couldn’t help but chuckle. This is going to make quite a funny story.

The waitress came out, turned my pulgogee and cut it into small strips. She motioned towards the spot where the man once sat and asked me something in Korean.
“I don’t know,” I said and turned my shoulders upward, giving the universal ‘I don’t know’ gesture, followed by the booze signal - my hand became a bottle. “Glug glug.”
She seemed to understand, smiling and leaving me to my solo meal. The food was excellent and I was quite happy to enjoy it without the drunk. I was relieved by the fact that I had some spare won on me to pay for the meal. Naturally, I didn’t crack open the Soju, so I didn’t have to pay for it.

I usually don’t eat out at Korean restaurants alone because I have difficulty ordering the food, so having a drunken guide order and bail was a pleasant surprise!

First Day of School

2008-06-08T21:09:00.003+09:00

Considering that I've been teaching for roughly a month now and I've scarcely given word to the topic, this post is long overdue. My apologies go out to my curious family and friends; blogging is a bit difficult to do without internet at home (which I'm still lacking), and I'm sorry for my limited communication.

My first day went down in the following fashion:

I was picked up on a Tuesday morning by Tim, my Korean co-teacher of sorts. We drove to the school. It was a very short drive, so we didn't chat much. My school is located about 3 blocks away from my apartment, making my commute to work very convenient. Tim parked the van out behind the school. As we walked toward the entrance, he explained to me that we were about to meet the principal. He also went on to say that I can probably eat in the cafeteria everyday for free. I found out later that there is a bit of animosity between the afternoon teachers and the regular teaching staff. However, since I'm a foreigner I've been given some special privileges (more on this later).

As we rounded the corner and entered the courtyard to the school, we were greeted by hundreds of screaming students, swirling and swarming about in a flurry. It was all so overwhelming. Some were jumping rope, some were playing soccer, while others simply ran about like crazed little kids, smiles plastered across their faces. I soon wore a similar smile. Tim and I were quickly overtaken by students crowding all around us. One jumped up and clung to Tim. As the mob of children overtook and encircled us, I heard countless cry, "Hello! Hello! How are you?! What's your name?! Where are you from?!" The questions were projected at me from so many different directions and raining down on me all at once, I didn't know whom to answer. Eventually, I managed to convey, "Hello! I'm good, thank you. How are you? My name is Patrick. I'm from America."

Tim quickly ushered me inside, away from the kids who all seemed to cry out, "goodbye! Nice to meet you!!" as I walked away. We were about to enter the school when Tim told me to remove my shoes. I did so, picked them up and followed him into the foyer area where there was a big wooden bin with many cabinet doors on its side. Each cabinet of the bin contained a space where teachers can leave their shoes for the day. So I placed my shoes inside one of the bins toward the bottom (the top row is reserved for the vice and head principals) and picked up a pair of black sandals. What a relief! I thought there was going to be a strict dress code. Many know how much I loathe wearing dress clothes, particularly dress shoes. I was delighted to find that not only will I NOT have to wear uncomfortable, unbreathable, and inflexible formal shoes, that I would be required to wear snug, comfy, open toed sandals to work - every day! Bonus.

I followed Tim to the cafeteria, which was relatively empty at the time but soon filled up with oodles of noodle slurping kids. Just outside the doors to the cafeteria, I met my principal - a kind man with a hardened face. Students rushing by paused to bow to him before they entered the cafeteria. His English was pretty minimal, so Tim translated for me while standing in line for food. There was a table with many trays of food designated for teachers; we served ourselves. Other students had to wait in long lines to receive their grub from pink plastic and white rubber clad cafeteria workers. The food was excellent (and has been every day). Perfectly cooked, sticky rice, seaweed soup, zesty kimchi, fish, and some melon slices for dessert. As I sat down, one of the pink plastered cafeteria workers laid a fork down beside me. I thanked her and was about to use it to dig into my rice, but I thought I had better start getting used to chopsticks. I must admit that I fumbled around a bit with my food; I'm not very accustomed to using chopsticks, but I eventually found my rhythm and managed to eat without embarrassment.
I met a few other teachers, notably Unn-Kyoung, who has become a good friend over these past few weeks (She's a dominate ping-pong player I've come to find, and her English is excellent). Everyone welcomed me warmly, and I felt at ease among my new friends and co-workers. The principal, although his appearance was intimidating, was very friendly and, through Tim, informative. I learned that this part of town, Buldangdo, is the wealthiest area in Cheonan. After our meal, Tim and I were invited to the principal's office for some coffee. I was told that I could come to his office anytime I so pleased to enjoy some java.

Soon it became time to teach. Tim escorted me to my room, handed me a stack of books and accompanying CDs, and promptly left me. "Oh, I teach alone?" I remember asking. "Yes. You teach here on the fourth floor, and I teach downstairs on the third floor."
"Oh, ok." Before coming to Korea, I was told that I would have a co-teacher, someone who spoke Korean and would assist me as I taught. If the students had a question they could not explain in English, the Korean teacher would intervene. Likewise, if the students did not understand what I was teaching, the Korean teacher could further explain in the students' native tongue. Feeling a little nervous, I soon began my first class.

I began with a quick introduction of myself, where I was from, what I like to do etc. I was greeted by a dozen second graders with blank faces. "Just how much English do they understand?" I began to wonder. I soon found out that they knew very little when I popped in the CD and had the students open their books. They repeated words like 'chicken,' 'pizza,' 'bread,' and 'milk.' I felt that the students could understand the words and their accompanying pictures, and they pronounced them decently, but they had no grasp of conversational English. I remember one of the phrases in the book was 'point to the clock.'

"Point to the clock," they droned.
"No, no." I said. I lifted my hands in the air before them and wiggled my fingers. "I don't want you to just say 'point to the clock,' I actually want you to take your fingers and point to the clock." I pointed to the clock. They didn't quite get it.
"Come on, try it. Like this. 'Point to the clock.'"
I pointed to the clock. Slowly, they began to catch on.
"OK, now point to the window."
They mimicked me as I pointed to the window while saying, "point to the window."
Finally, we were communicating.

One class soon ended and another began. I quickly found out that some classes were just starting to learn English whereas others are a bit more advanced, using different books. My last class consisted of fourth graders, and they had a much better grasp on English than my other students. This class used an entirely different book which was composed of short stories or informative paragraphs for the students to read and questions afterwards for them to answer. The other classes used books and CDs for learning vocabulary, not necessarily forming sentences.

My first day of teaching came to an end so quickly; it blurred on past me like a bullet train. I had and have six classes, forty minutes each, from 1:10-5:20. I found my students to be very well-behaved and respectful - more than I expected from 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. Some students even bowed to me as they entered the classroom.

Since then, I've had a number of behavioral problems. Sometimes my problematic students pretend they don't understand me, even though I know they do. I've had to get mean on more than one occasion. Many back home know me to be pretty passive, and I have to say that it's uncomfortable for me to raise my voice and yell - especially when my anger is directed toward little kids - but it's absolutely necessary at times. I mostly have problems with students who don't care to learn English. Their parents are paying to have them in an afternoon class, so it's the folks who want their children to learn English, not necessarily the kids. These students don't listen, don't participate, don't write, don't speak - no matter how hard I try to get them to cooperate, they just want to sit back and chat (in Korean, of course) with their fellow classmates. They will try to stall for as long as possible.

I'll say, "Take out your notebooks, please."
Some will reply, "Teacher, no notebook."
"Oh, you don't have your notebook?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you. Show me."
The student will then open his or her backpack, revealing their notebook.
"Don't lie to me. You have your notebook right there. Take it out, and let's begin."
"Teacher, no pencil."
This is pretty much an everyday occurrence.

I was particularly peeved at one student who didn't bother to write anything in English on one assignment. He just scribbled nonsense across the handout. I told him to erase it and try again. I even wrote down some of the sentences in English on the board - all he had to do was copy it down. But he didn't. I really wanted to see him try, so I got an eraser out, took his paper, and erased the scribbling. I said, "Come on, it's not so bad. Just try it out." And he just kept on scribbling nothingness.

Here's a quick list of interesting things I soon found out about teaching in Korea.
1. There are no janitors. Students are required to clean everyday, in shifts. I often see students bustling about with brooms, sweeping up the hallways and stairs.

2. Teachers are required to clean their own rooms. I sweep my room everyday, clean the desks and board twice a week, and empty my own garbage weekly. My company recently bought me a vacuum; I'm stoked.

3. Afternoon teaching is quite different. My class isn't very nice compared to regular classrooms. I have no air conditioning, television, or computer. As things are heating up here, I've had to open up my door and fan it back and forth, stirring up a slight breeze for the students. My principal was kind enough to demand an air conditioning unit and computer from my company, but I haven't heard back yet. I usually enjoy some coffee with the fellow six grade teachers on my floor in the break room after lunch and before teaching (regular teachers, that is. There is only one other afternoon teacher, Nicole, a very kind Korean. She's also from my company. She teaches phonics and reading, whereas I teach vocabulary and pronunciation.) My coffee sipping mates are all very friendly, flirtatious, and generous. They asked me if my room had air conditioning, and when I told them that it didn't, they gave me one of their spare fans (along with a dozen milk cartons, orange juice, rice cake candies, and other warm sentiments). My room is much cooler now. Update - My company has agreed to get me and Nicole air conditioners for our rooms asap.

4. Students are super dedicated to studying, even at a very early age. Many of my students go to regular school, afternoon school (with me), multiple hagwons for furthering their knowledge in English and other fields, and instrument lessons. Imagine that - second and third graders are studying literally all day. No wonder they're so playful in my classroom - they don't get to play much outside of school.

5. Teachers are never called by their last names. Students refer to their teachers as "songsaengnim," or, in my case, "Teacher." I wondered if this is true for all occupations in Korea, but upon asking another teacher about this, I found out that only teachers are called 'teacher.' In the States, the only people we call by their job titles is 'waiter.' In Korea, if you want to get the attention of you waiter, you say "ogeeyo," which literally means 'here,' only with the 'yo' for politeness.

I have a current school related problem. Many of my classes are, and have been, finished with their text and work books. I haven't been given any new material for them. My company has stated that I will not be getting any new books for several more weeks. The reason is because the parents of the students pay for the books, and their money has to last for three whole months before they are required to pay for new books. So, I'm tap dancing my way through class. It's difficult for me to come up with games to play because I have to make very simple rules so that the kids will understand. To help things, I've purchased an English - Korean dictionary to explain more challenging concepts. I must admit that my survival style of teaching is pretty boring. I hope to become a better teacher quickly. I've mostly been having the students write down sentences in their notebooks. Afterwards we practice saying them aloud. I often try to act out the words, so they can have a better visual to help them remember new vocabulary words. Sometimes we play hangman; sometimes we play the connection game - where I write 'tiger,' which ends in 'r' and the students have to come up with a word that begins with 'r.'

Anyhow, any teaching suggestions or recommendations are welcome. Prayer is welcome too. It's challenging to me because the language barrier is vast, and my experiences with the very little ones is quite limited. Giving me further stress is that the 17th of this month is going to be an 'open class' day, where the parents are welcomed to come and visit their students classes - with me teaching. I'm pretty nervous, and I don't know exactly what I'm going to be teaching. Some new text books and work materials would be very nice, but I doubt they are going to come in before open class day.

To end on a more positive note, I'm very glad to be here teaching. I know that as a foreign teacher with a very very limited handle on Hangul, I offer my students something unique. They are forced to communicate with me in English. My students all love to communicate, so they come up to me and say, "Teacher! ummm... chicken spelling."
"Oh, how do you spell chicken?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"C- h- i - c- k-e-n."
"Oh thank you, teacher."

Scissors, Rock, Paper.

2008-05-19T18:11:00.005+09:00

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.

Learning Hangul

2008-05-18T23:00:00.005+09:00

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...

Gwangdeoksan

2008-05-18T17:21:00.003+09:00

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

Yellow Haze

2008-05-13T18:08:00.003+09:00

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.

Buddha's Birthday; Cheonan Love

2008-05-12T02:46:00.002+09:00

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

Welcome to Korea - Initial Reactions and Musings

2008-05-06T20:00:00.001+09:00

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.