The Angel of Death

I got in trouble. Again.

No, this time it had nothing to do with giving the kids frowny faces, or taking their stickers away. This was way worse.

I wrote their names in red ink. All of them.

I know. I'm pretty much a terrible person.

Apparently you're not supposed to do that. Apparently I've just given all of my students a death sentence. Writing a name in red ink is an omen of death.

I have a feeling I'm going to be hearing from a lot of parents tomorrow morning.

Life in an Uncaffeinated World

It’s no surprise to anyone who’s known me for... five minutes... that I love coffee. Always have, always will. It’s pretty much an integral part of me by now, seeing as my caffeine addiction settled itself deep within my being long ago, with no intention of leaving. Ever.

So imagine my dismay when I arrive in Korea only to discover that the coffee here really is terrible. Don’t get me wrong, I do come across the occasional Starbucks or Coffee Bean. When such glorious moments arrive, I stumble into the coffee shop like a zombie, and emerge a person.

There is also a “New York Coffee and Bagel” right by my school, which serves decent coffee, albeit only in teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy size. And it’s a little pricey.

The obvious way around my dilemma would be to make coffee at home. Ok, let’s see how that works out for me... I go to the grocery store, only to find that coffee comes in little pre-made packets. It’s instant coffee, sugar and powdered milk all rolled into one. So I’m thinking that this is probably going to be pretty gross, seeing as I’m spoiled and brew Starbucks back at home, but Julia assures me that it’s pretty good, so I give it a go. It’s not too bad, but definitely not good. And I drink them like water, especially on the weekends.

Cue the migraines. I get migraines for various reasons. Sometimes it’s the weather, often times it’s a lack of caffeine. I’m thinking this time it’s both, seeing as my instant coffees aren’t doing too much for me. Kyle suggests that perhaps it IS the instant coffees. He swears those things cause cancer, along with a host of other ailments and diseases. Now he’s forbidden me to drink them, and is determined to ensure that I get a coffee press. It won’t be Starbucks, but it’ll probably be better than what I’ve been drinking so far.

It’s official: in addition to my horses and my dog, I also miss my coffee maker.

Chut-tul

On Friday evening myself and ALL of my co-workers, from the principal to the cook and the cleaning lady, piled into the big purple school bus for a trip into Seoul. The special occasion? Our director’s child’s first birthday party. Not just any child; he’s the eldest son of an eldest son. Which means he’s pretty much a big deal. Koreans still very much believe that having a son is preferable to having a daughter, as it is the son who is expected to care for the parents in their old age. Don’t get me wrong, any parents I have seen with their children in this country dote equally on sons and daughters, but having a boy first definitely seems to take the pressure off.

The first birthday, Chut-tul, is a huge milestone in a Korean’s life. From what I could find out doing a little research, this has to do primarily with the high infant mortality rate of years long past. Obviously with modern medical developments infant mortality has been reduced significantly, however in the past if a child lived to see their first birthday their chances of surviving into adulthood were greatly improved. The first birthday was therefore a cause for great celebration. I have also read that there were/ are “shamanistic” reasons for celebrating this birthday, however I could not find exactly what they are. I’ve heard that most Koreans aren’t even sure anymore why some things are done, so perhaps that part is no longer of any real consequence. That being said, I am an archetypal green and am therefore determined to find out.

Apparently this is often also when the baby is given their English name. Elly hasn’t quite decided on a name for her baby yet, but she’s thinking Benjamin. Great name. That being said, I’ve often wondered why everyone in Korea chooses an English name anyway. Aren’t their family-given names sufficient?...

For now, I’ll focus on what I do know. The child’s parents throw a huge party to honour the Chut-tul. In this case, Elly and her husband rented out a nice restaurant and invited what seemed to be just about everyone they knew. They also fed all of us, which is part of the celebration. It is believed that sharing food, especially fruit, rice and rice cakes, will ensure that the child will have a long life. There was so much food! I, of course, was in heaven. There was Korean food and Western food and just about everything in between.

Another important aspect of the Chut-tul is the Toljabee. During the Toljabee the child predicts their future by selecting items from a pile placed before them. The child is dressed in traditional Hanbok (in this case it was pastel pink, green and purple; he was so cute, I wish I would have gotten a picture!) and placed on a table, where everyone can see him/ her. Then various items are placed in front the child and he is let go to pick a few of them. If the child picks money or rice they will be wealthy. String? They will have a long life. A pencil? They will become a scholar. Microphone? You got it, entertainer. Little possibly-Benjamin chose money first, followed by a pencil. His future’s lookin’ good. J

Aside from the Toljabee, I found the gift giving aspect to be the most interesting part of the Chut-tul. Instead of giving toys or clothing, guests buy the child a gold ring. These rings are not intended to be worn by the baby, but rather to be used by the parents to pay for important aspects of the child’s future, such as his/ her education. Doesn’t that just sound so logical? Instead of buying 50 million toys that the baby doesn’t need and will probably only play with for a week, invest in their future! All the staff at our school got together to buy possibly-Benjamin a ring, which I forgot to take a picture of, of course.

It’s too bad I didn’t have a Chut-tul. Perhaps I would have picked up something that could be used as a memory aid.

On Monday I spoke with a few of my elementary (ie: older students) about their Chut-tul. Most of them told me that they chose either money or a pencil. I love talking to my kids about stiff like this, because they’re always so shocked when I tell them that we don’t have those types of things in Canada/ the US. The thing they still can’t get over? How Westerners perceive age. In Korea, when I child is born, he/ she is one year old. This means that at their first birthday they are actually turning two. The kids just couldn’t believe that in Canada I’m 25, but in Korea I’m 26.

Go figure. I move to another country and instantaneously add a year to my life.

Missin' You

Alright... So I've been a little hesitant to publish this post for fear that some people may get offended, but I just can't wait any more!

I have recently come to realize that I miss some people from home. These people, however, are of the four-legged variety. No offense to my fellow Homo Sapien Sapiens, but I can contact you whenever I like and we can chat via telephone and Skype. All I have to go on with my animal friends is their pictures, so I decided to post a few on here.

Who do I miss the most? (In no particular order, of course...)

Beret aka Boo aka Brat Face

T'Jean aka Weenie

Baby Diva

Brat and Weenie having a bonding moment

Debbie Downer

After re-reading my post from Friday, I realized that it kind of sounded like I’d taken one too many downers and was in need of a serious, uplifting kick in the you-know-what. On the contrary! I’m loving the time I’ve spent here and know that I will continue to do so. (Ok, so work’s a bit rough but whatever. The kids are cute and the staff are awesome). In order to convince everyone that I’m not at risk of spontaneously showing up in Toronto, or Townsville for that matter, I thought I’d give you an idea of how my weekend unfolded.

Saturday began with a little World of Warcraft, which is, of course, the only way to guarantee a great day. It’s been scientifically proven. At eleven I met up with Caitlin (I’ve recently realized that I’ve been spelling her name incorrectly, so from here on in the spelling will change) only to discover that her wallet has gone M.I.A. After a bit of drama with no success, she resigned herself to being wallet-less and we met Alistair (another work friend, this one’s a kiwi) and grabbed a bus into Seoul. On this day I was to have my first Itaewon experience.

Itaewon is where the American military base is located and is therefore the place to go if you want Western food or need to find a service in English. Our specific purpose on this particular trip was to book our tickets to Thailand for Christmas break. YAY!

The unavoidable motion sickness that I experienced on the bus was quickly combated with what was possibly the best curry I have ever eaten. No jokes, this rivals Wagamama. If I’m making claims like that, you know I’m talking business. Delicious Thai food (half of which inevitably ended up on my shirt) was followed by a delicious trip to the travel agent.

Koreans use the word “delicious” to describe just about everything so yes, the trip was delicious.

Carrying on... On December 24^th at 9 pm Alistair, Caitlin, Scott (another work friend) and I will be aboard a Thai Airways flight to Bangkok, after which we will spend nine glorious days relaxing on the beach and celebrating the lunar New Year. I know, we’re pretty much rock stars.

Alistair had business to attend to back in Bundang so after we’d found our tickets Caitlin and I decided to wonder around Myung Dong and do some window shopping. Or real shopping in Caitlin’s case. Mum, you would be proud of Caitlin’s shoe fetish; you two could do some serious bonding over footwear.

Once six rolled around we grabbed a coffee and a green tea latte and met up with Kyle and his girlfriend Ji, and Caitlin’s friend Rachel. We had plans to celebrate Oktoberfest, Korea-style. Seeing as Oktoberfest doesn’t exist here, it was a bit of a stretch, but to summarize it involved a German restaurant, a large cheese tray, numerous shots of Jagermeister, copious amounts of sausage and beer, and a trip to Hooker Hill.

Hooker Hill is, well, where the hookers are. There are also a few cool bars/ clubs there so we headed to one called Polly’s something-or-other. The name’s not important. What is important are the 2 litre pop bottles we each got that were filled with soju and a Kool-Aid-like substance. Holy ridiculous.

They played some decent music, so Caitlin and I got our groove on, even joining in on the line dances that seem to be so popular here. If you ever want to see people line dancing to hiphop, come to Seoul.

Needless to say, the rest of the night was a bit of a gong show, but we managed to catch a bus back home and I was in bed by 3:30.

Sunday was spent lazing around my apartment, enjoying bread and watching the Tudors. By six pm everyone was feeling a little less like death so we decided to grab dinner and a movie. Dinner was great—I’ve found the ultimate hangover food. Donkass (basically pork schnitzel) in ramen. Ya, that’s right. IN ramen. Deep fried, spicy deliciousness. There’s that word again.

We headed over to the DVD bang (a place where you can rent a movie and a mini theatre for $16, super cool idea that we need to get going in Canada) and Kyle picked the movie, “Wolf Creek”. Assuming it was going to be an entertaining werewolf movie, we settled in with our sour gummy worms. It ended up being what is quite possibly the worst movie ever made. Do not, under any circumstances, rent/ buy/ watch this movie. That would be generating revenue, thereby encouraging “them” to make more films like it. We had a good time making fun of the film as we were watching, and had a good laugh on the way home discussing just how terrible it really was. I got home, read a little (Guns, Germs and Steel, in case anyone’s wondering) and went to bed.

Solid weekend.

Smoke and Mirrors

Now that I’ve been here for a month, I figure that I should get on with the reflecting, as opposed to taking everyone step-by-step through what I’ve been doing with my weekends, and the serious cultural faux pas I have been committing. Anyone who was there with me as I blundered through teacher’s college would understand exactly why I’ve been avoiding this. After drowning in professional and personal reflections for a year, I got to know myself (or bullshit about how I’ve gotten to know myself) more than I ever thought necessary. That being said, I did make this move with a purpose, so I suppose that I should be keeping everyone up to date on how that’s working out for me...

Although several factors played on my decision to come here, there was one reason that obviously stood above all others: to force myself outside of my comfort zone and to find my own way, as opposed to cowering behind others and following their lead. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some wonderful deflectors in the form of numerous friends. I’ve also lead the group on more than one occasion. I’ve just never been in the lead only to turn around and realize that no one is following. It was time.

I’m not saying that I haven’t had help while I’ve been here; obviously Julia and Kyle have been lifesavers. That being said, for the most part I’m on my own, and already I’m starting to notice the effects.

During this month, short period though it’s been, I have done a significant amount of thinking. That tends to happen when you’re stuck in a bed during the majority of your free time (for the record, the plague seems to be subsiding. Yay me!). This is what I’ve come up with...

When I left, I was having trouble finding a job that felt right. No matter where I looked or thought about working back home, something wasn’t clicking. I knew that if I took a position with one of the many boards that I was contemplating, I would continue to feel unfulfilled. In retrospect I think that that occurred for several different reasons, the ultimate culmination of which is:

I’m not sure how I felt about finally having to begin a career, particularly one involving so much responsibility. I know that everyone talks about how easy my chosen profession is, how short the hours are. The thing that people miss is that it’s not about simply getting through the curriculum. It’s about knowing that each student in your class fully understands the material and its connection to their lives. It’s about ensuring that each and every student feels validated and heard. Most of all, it’s about helping them figure out who they are and where they fit into this world. Add on to that the desire to share your passion with them, the desire that each and every one of them leaves your classroom understanding why you love your subject, and why you do what you do... well, that results in a hell of a lot of pressure. Plus, if we’re being realistic here we need to incorporate the fact that most of them will never see where you’re coming from and a number of them, for various reasons, don’t even want to be in your classroom. It’s a job that involves a high level of dedication, both professionally and personally. There is a high turnover rate, due primarily to burnout, in the teaching profession. I knew that once I started, I would be consumed by it. Anyone who knows me realizes that although I can be the most indecisive person on the face of the planet, once I decide to do something, I do it. And I refuse to be second best. Perhaps I was unwilling to give up that much of myself, to take that kind of a risk. Ultimately, I wasn’t sure that I was ready.

I thought that by coming here I would be able to learn a little more about myself and what I truly want to accomplish, personally and professionally. I would be able to experience teaching a new subject in a different setting with a new age group, thus narrowing my choices at home. I hoped that, by being removed from the reality of my every day existence, I would be able to distinguish what is important to me, thereby allowing myself to cut out all of the unnecessary baggage that was dragging me down, at times suffocating me.

All this while trying to pay down my student loan. What can I say? I’m ambitious.

By no means have I sorted all of this out in a mere month, however I can honestly say that I am well on my way. The small things have been addressed. I know that elementary students are beyond me. I know that I enjoy ESL, but don’t want to specialize in it. I am still leaning heavily towards teaching at an independent school back in Canada, but after having been here, where private schools abound, I have realized that, even in Ontario, a private school does not necessarily mean a good school. I have therefore resolved to do a significant amount of research before taking a position at such an institution upon my return. I would rather work in a public school for a few years and later find a position at a private school that I respect and where I am well suited than work for the rest of my life in a subpar institution. All of this has been confirmed in a mere 30 days.

Also confirmed is the fact that, for me, travel is better done without actually living and working in the country that I’m visiting. I’ve believed this for a while, but always assumed that I felt this way because I was too much of a chicken to actually make the move. Now that I’ve done it, I realize that isn’t the case at all. As a resident and an employee, it’s so easy to get caught up in the daily grind. I prefer the excitement of a busy vacation filled with daily exploration and long walks through historically significant places. Call me a geek, but that’s where my heart is. I do believe there will be many a trip to the great temples and palaces of the world in the summers of my future.

Ultimately, I’ve come to realize that life is life no matter where you are. Although it was exciting initially, and I have met many new friends, the daily grind continues. I get up and go to work. I make dinner and go grocery shopping. The mundane aspects of life seem to have followed me to the Land of the Morning Calm.

As for the bigger issues, I’m making headway. Time and thought are still required to work those puzzles out.

What does all of this mean for me? I’m more secure in who I am and what I want in life, although I don’t claim to have all of the answers. What does this mean for Korea? I’m not entirely sure. Right now I feel like I need to go home in time to find a job for September, which essentially means that I will have to be back in Ontario for the beginning of May. That being said, it is still early, and I still have a lot to see and do. A lot to... reflect on.

Good Old Snail Mail

Alright, so I've finally realized how people can reach me, seeing as I have no idea what my address is. Apparently that's normal, and I'm not a complete idiot. Solution? Send it to my school! Today I discovered that everyone does this, seeing as today everyone got mail except for me :( So here it is...

Eco Plaza 6F
1188-4
Jook Jeon Dong
Young-In City
Soojee-Goo
GyungGi Do
Korea

Helpful hint: it takes regular mail forever to get here (Caitlyn got a package today that was sent by a friend in August...) so if you are going to send me something (I love letters!!!!) you should consider sending it airmail, provided it's not too expensive.

xxoo

Photo Journal

Seeing as it's been a whole week, I feel obligated to post something but am at bit of a loss for words (shocking, I know). To those of you who creep me regularly on Facebook, you will already have seen these. For those of you who don't, I'm shocked. You can't actually tell me that you have better things to do with your life. I know you better than that. :P

Enjoy!

This is my homeroom class, minus two. Yes I know. They're really cute.

American, eh?

The other night Kyle and Caitlyn took me out for galbi. Galbi is basically real Korean barbeque. Before I tell you about my night, I first have to explain the process of dining in Korea.

It’s actually really cool. You walk into the restaurant, take off your shoes and sit on cushions on the floor. Once you order, your waitress/ waiter brings you about ten different side dishes, one of which is inevitably kimchi (pickled cabbage in a spicy red sauce). They’re all about communal dining here, which is awesome, because it saves you money and you get to try many dishes, in addition to the ten or more side dishes. Granted, it may also be how I contracted the Korean plague (see last post).

Back to the galbi.

Seeing as it was my first galbi experience, they opted to take me for beef galbi. It also comes in pork. Pork is the most common meat here, with beef and chicken being more expensive. So I was getting the good stuff.

We get to the restaurant, take off our shoes, sit on our cushions and order our galbi. And our soju (liquor). And our mekju (beer). Well, Kyle does, seeing as he can do it in Korean. It is then that the side dishes begin to make an appearance. There’s kimchi and soup, corn and salad, this crazy scrambled egg dish (which Caitlyn loves) and several other yummy additions to our meal. And then they bring out crab in a deliciously spicy-looking sauce. Kyle and Caitlyn stare at it in amazement. Apparently this is a new thing. “We must be at one high class galbi place,” someone states. We don’t have much more opportunity to stare at the crab, as it is then that the waitress brings out the galbi. Which is raw beef.

Let me add that in a galbi restaurant, there’s a grill built into your table. I have the Korean plague, not Korean e.coli.

So we’re cooking our galbi and eating our side dishes when Kyle and Caitlyn decide to try the crab. They each pick one up with their chopsticks and Kyle bites in, murmuring “hmmm, softshell” as he’s doing it. Immediately, Caitlyn follows suit. Kyle swallows. Caitlyn swallows. “I think it’s raw,” says Kyle. “Definitely,” replies Caitlyn. Each puts down the remainder of their crab. “I don’t think you’re supposed to eat raw crab. We’re probably going to die.” Kyle suggests trying to kill any possible bacteria by drowning it in soju. It seems like a good idea. I join in.

At this point, I’m laughing pretty hard, secretly gleeful that I’m not into soft shell anything and therefore did not partake in the eating of raw crab. So gleeful, in fact, that as I wonder why I’m having so much trouble grabbing the galbi with my chopsticks (a skill I have recently mastered and been gloating about for days) I look down only to realize that I’m holding them upside down. Out comes the nice waitress with a fork. So much for gloating.

At the same time, the owner has noticed that Caitlyn has put some onions directly on the grill. This, apparently, is a huge “faux pas”, as he quickly gets us a little dish and proceeds to put all of our onions back into it.

Now Kyle starts to laugh, and flail a little (I’m guessing from the soju...) and he knocks the entire bowl of salad off of the table. Along comes the nice waitress to tidy it up. Thankfully, by this point in time, we’re about ready to leave. We pay our bill and, as we leave the restaurant, I proudly state, “Wow! I just can’t wait to get back to New York!”

The Korean Plague

Ok, so it’s not actually the plague. It’s not like I’m walking around covered in buboes or anything. Although to hear me cough, you might think that I should be.

I’ve been sick pretty much since I got here. It started with a runny nose and a head cold. Then progressed to a sore throat. Most recently it’s been a nasty respiratory condition. Similar to the plague. But without the rats and the fleas and the buboes. Or the threat of scurvy or cholera or something. You get the point. I haven’t somehow been transported back to the mid-fourteenth century. I’m just sick.

Apparently it’s quite common to get really, really sick when you first arrive here. Something about Asian “super bugs” and the generally poor air quality of Seoul and the surrounding areas. According to my co-workers, for 10, 000 won I can go to the doctor down the street from the school and get an injection that will have me feeling like Mary Poppins within the hour. I keep telling them that I prefer to build up my immunity naturally. My reluctance has nothing to do with the thought of getting a rather large needle filled with an unknown substance stuck into my ass cheek and subsequently injected into my body. Nor has it anything to do with the fact that that substance may contain penicillin, to which I am allergic, and for which I do not know the Korean word, thereby limiting my ability to inform said doctor of the aforementioned allergy. Natural is the way to go.

Thanks to my plague-that-is-not-the-plague I have had to back out of a hiking trip I was going to go on this weekend with Kyle and a bunch of other people, in favour of bed rest and orange juice. It’s my only holiday until Christmas and I get to spend it with the casts of Flight of the Conchords and Coupling. And the omnipresent mosquitoes that have taken up residence in my apartment. Maybe they have something to do with it. Korean malaria, anyone?