Day 1 - Day 3

Hi there!

My goal was to update this blog daily - keeping it short and sweet with as little commentary as possible for the full 365 days I am contracted to be here...but alas, that just didn't happen and probably won't so here is just the first few days in a nutshell.

First of all...why go back? Wasn't a year more than enough you say? Well, having saved a fair bit of cash last year Lizard and I went traveling around southeast Asia for 6 weeks. We spent a day in Korea before making the long journey back to North America, land of the kimchi-free back in late March. A few weeks after settling at home we then high-tailed it to Europe for another 6 weeks and promptly blew what little money we had left. Liz bought tons of gelato, whereas I bought tons of beer and gelato. Returning home peniless, Lizless (she went back to the States), and lacking a CEO-worthy resume I floundered. Oh, how I floundered.

I drank martinis with my dad, whiskey with my older brother, beer with my twin, and all of the above with my mom (including lots of boggle). I traveled back and forth between Toronto and Michigan on the Greyhound to see Liz and her family and quickly depleted what little money I had left. And so began the handouts; mom paying for all food and life necessities, and my papa paying for dinners and other must-haves (a boy needs manicures). Always ready to accept charity my brothers also took me out for dinners and paid for them (giving me the doggy bags on my insistence).

You could say I looked like Martin Sheen at the beginning of Apocalypse now, but at least he eventually put clothes on and took a shower.

The only reverse culture shock I really experienced was how everything in Canada had stayed exactly the same...sure, I'd changed in my worldview but thats about it. The souvenir I'd brought home with me was one I hadn't expected, this being the absolute refusal to accept a minimum-wage paying job. If I was going to whore myself, I now felt I deserved more for it, as my Asian customers had spoiled me so.

Months later after accepting that procrastination was costing me (and my family) more than just my dignity I made the decision to give it one more year in Korea with the goal of saving cash.

After weeks of delays due to my own laziness and the ineptitude of the Korean embassy in Toronto I got my E2 visa on Thursday Sep. 4 and had a plane ticket booked for the morning of Friday the 5th.

Toronto to Chicago to Seoul to Busan. If all went according to plan (ie- the plane not crashing) it was to take about 23 hours from door to door.

Day 1 - Goodbye, oh Hello.

Having just booked my ticket the day before, I hadn't given my bowels the proper time to go through the 7 stages of "whats going on!!?" diarrhea so it was no surprise that I woke up that morning with cramps similar to having eaten an Indian dinner of Drano Tikka Masala the night prior. With my bags meticulously weighed and packed (thanks Mom!) and Liz holding me upright (I was freaking out) we made it to Pearson airport in time for my bowels to say a fond farewell to regular toilets for the next year (my thighs shuddered at the thought of the infamous squatter potties). Many things freak out a person moments before they are 'shipped out'. Sure I wasn't facing gunfire in Iraq or malarial bugs in Africa but I was willingly putting myself (well, my butthole) in the line of fire of dozens of ddongchimming schoolchildren - and thats scary enough. Bullet wounds eventually heal, but the mental anguish of being ddongchimmed lasts a lifetime. Even buckets soju can't squelch that violating fire.

Anyways, after a US border guard chastised me for writing "Busan" rather than "Pusan" on my destination card, and ignoring my voluntary hangul lesson (as it extended past his 6th grade education) Liz and I sat in the Chicago terminal waiting for the dreaded 13 hour flight on a Korean air jet. If you'll remember last time I took this trip back in Dec.06 I was seated about a foot away from the window (the plane angled right where I was supposed to be able to lean) on what could only be described as an airline folding chair. I vowed never to take economy class again but knew it was as boldfaced a lie as when I weekly announce to 'never touch the drink again'.

Imagine our surprise when we boarded the Koreanair flight only to discover we each had soft plush chairs with individual TVs loaded with 30+ recent movies, games, and TV shows. I clapped my hands excitedly like a special-needs child knocking apple juice on himself and others while settling in for the long flight (undoing my pants and removing my socks). I watched movies, drank the free wine they offered, wore the soft blue airline socks we were given, and got violentally angry at the onboard blackjack game (I tried swiping my VISA on the TV screen to no avail). The friendly airline attendant even offered to teach me how to eat my bibimbap dinner but I smiled smugly and told her there would be no need as I'd already lived and worked in Korea for a year. Before I could put on my corduroy jacket with the teacher armpatches she'd walked off leaving Liz to give me her "you're pathetic" raised-eyebrow look.

We ESL teachers never get the respect we feel we deserve, which is why the majority of us drink, blog, and feign an air of importance.

Long flight short - we made it to Seoul and balked at the familiarity of it all. All around us were the pushy ajummas with wide-brimmed hats and poorly matched clothes, the baby-faced machine-gun toting Korean soldiers who chatted merrily to one another, and the Konglish signs greeting the international travelers ("This is YOU to be happy in Sparkling Korea!").

Arriving late Saturday night in Busan (not Pusan like the fat racist US home security guard belched) we were greeted by Simpson, our friendly maniacally-driving Korean recruiter who welcomed us back with open arms and cigarettes. Moments into the hour-long drive into Ulsan Liz noticed that my eyes had filled with tears yet again. Not knowing whether it was due to the realization of being back for another full year, or if it was the crooning from the latest 'hit' Korean song that would no doubt be played for months on end Liz mouthed "its okay" over and over again. Sensing my fear Simpson regaled us with his continual fight with the Korean consulate in Toronto over the delay of my E2 visa (apparently he went so far as to tell them that he paid their salaries). So thats why they seemed to hate me so much.

Before the multitudes of neon signs could kickstart my epilepsy we had arrived in Ulsan. We pulled up behind a large white SUV, a similarly expensive car the singer R. Kelly would use time and time again for his portable pee parties and briefly met our new directors - a husband and wife team.

We followed them (too close in my opinion) through side streets and up hills, careening over drunk men and narrowly missing cabbage-toting ajummas. Bright hopeful lights from the 30-story high apartment buildings gradually dimmed as we drove deeper and deeper into the ghetto of Ulsan. Figuring that we were only on a short side trip to teach us the dangers of drugs I was not delighted to stop moments later at a 4 story high building that sat across from a small park with a metal dump next to it...our new home.

We lugged our luggage up the stairs and the stinging sensation from my tears got replaced with a burning in my calves. The smell of my new apartment was strong enough for me to make a quick and likely accurate visualization of the tenant prior to me. He was a lonely old, chain-smoking Korean man who died sadly on his toilet weeping with every inhale and moaning with every exhale. I was his replacement. Sigh.

The directors were nice enough (or non-informed enough) to have purchased some supplies for me which they began to rapidly put away. Simpson walked around the tiny apartment preaching its beauty and splendor with open-arms. He excitedly turned the apartments light switches off and on, marveling aloud at the miraculous invention of the incandescent bulb before he took me by hand to teach me the delicate and fascinating nature of the 'bidet' in the washroom. After what seemed like forever they departed with Simpson still announcing his plans to move into the unit across from mine, and I was alone. I wasted no time in curling into a fetal position and dreaming of a faraway Canada.

DAY 2

Liz and I lazed around all morning and ate the eggs the directors had purchased for us for breakfast. I used the bidet about 9 times too many before we elected to venture out of our maze-like neighborhood with only a vague understanding of where we lived. We almost wept with joy at discovering the local Starbucks and would weep further when browsing through a nearby grocery store, instantly missing the wide selection we had had back in North America. We got into a taxi and mumbled the always trusty "Emartuh ka jew say oh!" hoping that we would find all we would need at this venerable South Korean institution. After buying a few groceries and some hangers we hopped in another cab and tried another department store, hoping that it would get us in the vicinity of our area. 4 cab rides later, drenched with sweat and with several swear words exchanged we made it back home. We made a curry and felt instantly better and gassier.

Day 3

Simpson had explained to us the night we arrived that our director would pick us up for our first day of school on Monday morning, sometime between 8:15 and 9:00 - a nice 45-minute window. Having now gotten re-aquainted with the Korean accent I think he meant 8:50 and 9:00 - oh well. Anywhoo - he drove for a fair bit of time as I frantically tried to remember landmarks for when we tried to make it back solo. Knowing that there was a kimbap place near a cellphone store was useful in theory but anyone who travels here knows that kimbap places and cellphones stores are more plentiful than Tim Hortons in the suburbs of Toronto.

The school itself was created for the wealthy of Ulsan to send their tiny children for the day. Its not actually a hagwon but more an all-day prechool. Walking in the front door my eyes fell to the nearby closet packed several shelves high with hundreds of tiny shoes. A moment later I heard the pitter patter of the hundred or so slippered feet above me punctuated with several shrieks. So many shrieks. Before I could register what was going on a tiny Korean boy magically appeared in front of me. I waved hello to him and he shyly waved back. Turning away from him I had barely begun to walk to the teachers room when 13 or so kids circled around me. Saying "hi there!" and waving pathetically I feebly greeted the tiny children with as much courage as I could muster before high-tailing it to the safety of the teachers room. There, I met the resident teacher and all-around savior Josh who I would later learn was the sole foreign teacher of IPS having been abandoned months before by the two other foreigners. Looking tired but cheerful he tried to explain how the school works and handy survival tips but stopped short after seeing his every word fly clear over my head.

The head teacher Anne explained patiently that each class lasted about 1/2 an hour and that we had about 7 to do a day. We were to eat lunch in the staff room, which is provided to us by the friendly ladies who cook daily for every man, woman, and child in the building. Prep. is a 100% necessity in the school, as I would later learn, so every moment we weren't actually in class was to be spent getting ready for the next week.

Without boring you further I'll just say that although I sweat a fair bit that day and met dozens and dozens of 5-year olds with untapped energy I did survive, and the majority of the kids were far cuter and more pleasant and eager than any of the children I'd taught before. Poor Liz was given the youngest kids (about aged 3-4) so I felt worse for her. I was given the responsibilty and title of "Language Arts" teacher and "Math" teacher, so we'll see if the kids ever learn to count past 10. The children's English is actually better than my prior students at GnB, who would just dribble ramen out of their mouthes and babble incoherently when I greeted them. I was exhausted by the end of the day and felt very guilty with the amount of paper we use daily to keep them entertained but I don't mind sacrificing a tree or 7 if it saves the kids from physically attacking me.

Josh took us out for galbi that night and the taste of cold soju actually felt good. The jetlag was present but not as crippling as it had been last year.

Bedtime was, and remains early as the morning seems to come pretty damn fast.

More later, bedtime now.