You know, I never considered myself a writer, and probably never will. I’ll leave that to the people who actually do a good job at it. However, there is just too much going on to pass up writing about it. Some of these things must be documented, must be jot down, for as funny and obscure as they seem, I sadly know that they will be forgotten in time. With that said, it all started when. No wait, once upon a time..
I’ll start with the beginning, and trust me, brevity will be my friend on this one (maybe). I don’t want to bore myself out, why do it to you? Trip’s not bad at all. I wake up at 5 a.m. and hop on my first flight at 7:30 from Charlotte to San Francisco. My first trip to California, although I hardly call sitting in a hot airport surrounded by Koreans and my luggage en route to Seoul a “trip to California.” Steve and Malia make it to the terminal about an hour after I do, and soon we are boarding Asiana Airlines, one of two airlines out of South Korea (the other being Korean Air). Since a handy little Korean man insists on taking one of my carry-ons (as it will not fit in overhead bin, he says, and clearly he has no faith in my Tetris-like packing abilities), I end up praising it as I have the most glorious leg room on the 12.5 hour flight to Seoul/Incheon. The flight is honestly one of my best. The in-flight service outstanding, you really gotta hand it to those peeps across the pond. I think they begin serving us stuff as we are taking off, which is awesome but dangerous, right? I guess they have good-enough balance to do it as we are at a 45 degree incline. Let me think…I am not sure if this is the correct order, but we are given hot towels (a first for me, and it’s pleasantly surprising giving the fact that my body and hands are on fire from traveling and sitting for the last 8 hours), slippers to wear for the duration of the flight, headphones, 2 full meals, at least 17 rounds of drinks (which I deny wholeheartedly as anyone who knows me knows of my travel bladder), and several rounds of snacks. Oh yeah, alcohol is free to everyone too (newborns, too), even though I settled for one beer (refer to previous statement).
We arrive after 3 movies and multiple naps in Incheon, an uber large airport that most everyone flies into when visiting Korea. After some luck, we contact our guest house to arrange an airport pick-up and within minutes, we are in our airport guest house, which looks like some strange government building; completely quiet except for a random crying baby somewhere in a distant room (that’s not government-esque, I know), and long hallways with strange-looking gray doors that make odd Star Trek beeps when opening/closing. We settle in for the night after finding an internet café (PC Bang) and grabbing some dinner (spicy pork and weird-but-tasty vegetables).
Our driver arrives at the hotel around 9:15 a.m. Monday, saying nothing but “Hurry up!” (we later discover his vernacular consists mainly of “Hurry up,” “Get out,” and “The traffic is trepid on Mondays”) and shooing us into the miniscule elevator. The ride is not bad, though, considering it was a mostly silent ride with me in shotgun attempting to converse with the driver. I wish I had my camera ready for some scenes, the most memorable being traffic personnel that turned out to be mannequin-like robots with moving-arms to direct traffic, complete with a block head and Lego-style smiley faces. In less than 3 hours, we arrive at my school first, Hyopo Elementary School. I am greeted by a fellow teacher, and since I have yet to know his name, we’ll call him KT1 (Korean Teacher 1, very serious thought went into that name). KT1 helps me in with my luggage, and upon entering, we take our shoes off to put on black sandals. I guess during the madness I completely forgot this is the custom, which is awesome since I will never have to hike around in dress shoes. I meet the Principal, VP, et al, and soon my co-teacher, Park Young Gle (Miss Park). She shows me around the place, which looks really nice and organized. Outside reminds me a little of the Caribbean, complete with a dirt soccer field and houses stacked up on the sides of the mountains. I am shown my classroom, where I will be teaching 3rd-6th grade, and Kindergarten on Fridays. After some delicious lunch (I originally thought was free, but was told via a Korean message board it’s only free for students), I am driven to my apartment by a Mr. Oh, who speaks zilch English, but attempts to act like he does by nodding and laughing to everything I say. My apartment is only 5 minutes from my school (awesome) and pretty nice inside, boasting an extra bedroom , and luckily a good-sized bathroom to rub in RJ’s face (for those of you who do not know, RJ my old roommate got the short end of the straw when it comes to bathroom space). I suppose jet lag is still lingering a teensy bit, as I end up sleeping from a little after 6, finally arising 12 hours later.
Okay, I have come to the realization that this is dragging on, and will take forever. I probably have lost any semblance of an audience by now, and alas am typing to myself, alone, simultaneously staring at this dumb green pig with blue eyes some past tenant ingeniously thought to use as a makeshift piggy bank by cutting an uneven slot on its head. What’s even worse is that I haven’t thrown it out yet, it’s just sitting here staring back at me, and it has absolutely no money in it. He’s even got a bow on his head, although come to think of it, it’s probably a girl pig. It does have some “just-came-from-a-salon” eyelashes. Three of ‘em on each side. Yup.
So I am going to curtail this madness by using simple *dashes* from now on. Bullet points are overdone; the power of *dashes* is underrated.
-First teaching day: Driven to medical center by my Vice Principal in silence (I’m getting used to this) to be screened before I can obtain an Alien Registration Card. For class, I have prepared a presentation of yours truly to get the students familiar with me, and to reciprocate, I have them decorate a card with their English name, their favorite animals, foods, etc. Day goes well, but again I am so tired I pass out before I can eat dinner.
-Second teaching day (Wednesday): No class, as I will eventually be teaching at a different school, which I am driven to by, again, silent Vice Principal. I meet the other school (Taepong Elementary, or something) staff and VP, who reminds me of a Harry Potter character; tall and gangly wearing nothing but black. One of the other wizarding worlds’ headmaster, yeah that’s it. Pretty sure the HP character was English though, small difference.
-Get to play volleyball with my school and another in front of all staff and our students, after being treated to Korean sausage, makkoli (Korean rice wine) and other unusuals. Am pleasantly surprised to see my entire school’s staff plays a great game (VP comes ready with knee pads, whole school dons a nice green polo), and am looking forward to doing this every Wednesday, minus the food and drink (special occasion).
Thursday: First actual day of teaching my lessons, and it goes very well indeed. Students have fun, I learn some things I should and shouldn’t focus on. Good all-around day especially since staff now sees me as a good addition to their volleyball squad as attacker (I quote from one of the administrators…”Eh..yesterday..volleyball……..eh, you are BEST player!”), it’s good to be recognized. Of course now it’s gone to my head, which is so metaphorically big that it’ll get in the way of my playing and probably bounce right off it before I can spike it, causing us to lose points and ultimately, the game. Sigghh, had a good run. Fun while it lasted.
-One last quick note...I had some desk warming time on Wednesday when some kids, I think 3rd or 4th grade, came in to say a few words (and I don’t mean the cliché “to say a few words”, they just only have a few words in their English vocabulary). It dawned on me who some of the younger ones remind me of. For one, there’s no way they’re speaking Korean. It sounds like an utterly, completely, fantastically different language only they understand. These kids are groping my arms, feeling my arm hair, grabbing my watch and copper wristband, drawn to its shiny power like fish in water. These kids are ewoks. They have to be related to ewoks from Star Wars. And their language is a branch of some root language, the same root language ewok language comes from. Like an ewok romance language system, but instead of beautiful French and Spanish stemming from Latin, it’s a guttural nonsensical language spewed out by little aliens. They couldn’t be more ewok unless they had fur-covered, little round bodies and sticks to poke me with (and I bet if they caught me outside, they’d be ready, sticks in hand).
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| Flight to San Fran over the Rockies |
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| My 12.5 hour home |
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| English classroom-and it's alllll mine (Jafar's voice) |
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